"When I was young, and began the practice of law, there were lawyers at the bar in this State and real Judges occupied the bench. There was Clay and Crittenden and Judge Robinson and Judge Underwood. Now who have we? Such lawyers as John Calhoun Saylor and such judges as Saylor will make when elected;--The Lord save us!" * * * * * At the November election Colonel Saylor was elected; but by a very small majority. He ran more than five thousand votes behind the head of the ticket, and in a district where little scratching is done. The State ticket pulled him through. When the returns came in Searcy Chilton, commenting on the race, concluded his remarks by saying; "Next time we must throw that Jonah overboard." A day or two before he qualified, Judge Saylor came to Frankfort, and visited the courtroom a few minutes after adjournment; he even went up and tried the chair of the Chief Justice, and found the seat was none too large. No one was present but Jake, the negro janitor. "Jake, what do the lawyers and judges have to say about my election?" "They don't say nothin, Boss; they jest laff." NIRVANA. We are told that at one time the British Isles were connected with the mainland of Europe; that Italy was at least within sight of the African coast; and that westward from Gibraltar, there was a continent which ultimately sank beneath the waves, leaving isolated mountain peaks, now islands and shoals, to mark its submerged position. The Egyptian priesthood told Solon of the greatness of the civilization of this submerged land, Atlantis or Kami, even then, as of an ancient past; and Homer, Horace and Plato have whispered of its greatness. The soul of one of its ancient inhabitants, yet wandering upon this earth, may through transmigration have become in part your own, and you, in reverie at odd hours and in company with it, live again a few scenes of those old days. * * * * * Near Winchester, Kentucky, driving out the Lexington turnpike you pass an old brick farmhouse of ante-bellum days; flanked on the one side by an old stone springhouse under two spreading elms and on the other by a large tobacco barn that looks extremely modern and out of place. Behind the house is an orchard of ancient apple and pear trees, all dead at the top, a negro cabin beside which are two black heart cherry trees, higher than the farmhouse and more than three feet through; and yet farther back, hemp and tobacco fields and a woodland pasture of oak and walnut trees. At least this was a description of my home thirty years ago. I had just graduated from Center College, and having in mind to practice law in Lexington, had during the summer formed the habit of going down to the springhouse and under the shade of its eaves and the overhanging elms, sit and read Kent's Commentaries.