"Let that be noted by the stenographer," remarked the lawyer. "Now, if your Honors please," he continued, addressing the three judges of the Special Sessions, "you all know how interested I am to see these young lawyers growing up. I like to help 'em along--give 'em a chance--teach 'em a thing or two. I trust it may not be out of place for me to say that I like my young friend here and think he tried his case very well. But he has a great deal to learn. I'm always glad, as I said, to give the boys a chance--to give 'em a little experience. I shall not put my client upon the stand. It is not necessary. The fact is," turning suddenly to the unfortunate assistant district attorney--"my client has a license." He drew from his pocket a folded paper and handed it to the paralyzed young attorney with the harsh demand: "What do you say to that?" The assistant took the paper in trembling fingers and perused it as well as he could in his unnerved condition. "Mr. District Attorney," remarked the presiding justice dryly (which did not lessen the confusion of the young lawyer), "is this a fact? Has the defendant a license?" "Yes, your Honors," replied the assistant; "this paper seems to be a license." "Defendant discharged!" remarked the court briefly. The prisoner stepped from the bar and rapidly disappeared though the door of the court-room. After enough time had elapsed to give him a good start and while another case was being called, the old lawyer leaned over to the assistant and remarked with a chuckle "I am always glad to give the boys a chance--help 'em along--teach 'em a little. That license was a beer license!" BEFORE TRIAL