“That beats you, O’Shaughnessy,” roared a reefer, almost suffocated with laughter, from the foot of the table. “Bravo!” said I; “you made a good escape, Westbrook, when you gave up pleading before such Shallows—but you haven’t yet told us what happened to you to embarrass you so at your _début_.” “Oh, no! I had forgot. I was just admitted, you must know, and all my friends advised me to make my maiden speech on one of the cases coming up at the next Oyer and Terminer. I looked around for some burglar, horse-thief, or other sort of rascal, for a client, but not a sinner of a one could I find willing to trust himself in my hands. I began to despair, thinking I should never have the chance to figure so again, for the celebrated Judge Traskey himself had come down special, to try a desperate case of murder, and the whole bar were itching to show off before him. He was said to be as sharp as a north-easter, and every other word was either an opinion, a growl, or a witticism. You may judge my joy, when, on walking down to the court-house, and looking very imposing in my own opinion, but scarcely daring to hope for such a God-send as a client, I heard the sheriff tell me that there was a poverty-struck sheep-stealer in the dock, who was in want of a lawyer, and would be glad to get a brisk hand for a trifle of a fee. Such a chance of making a speech wasn’t to be lost, and, thinking all the time what a sensation I should create, I asked to see the prisoner. As the sheriff couldn’t bring him out into the bar, I went into the dock. Well, I heard through the poor rascal’s story—and a long one it was—and I was just about to leave him, when I found that the sheriff had gone, in the mean time, to bring in the judge in procession, and, forgetting all about me, had left me locked in. Here was a scrape with a vengeance. To wait till the judge entered, and then sneak out of the dock, the laughing stock of the bar, was not to be thought of. What was to be done? The railing around the dock was high, and guarded by iron spikes, but over it was my only outlet, and springing up at once, I began to clamber out of the hole. At that very instant his honor entered the court-room, and the first thing that caught his eye was a man leaping the dock. ‘Sheriff, look to your prisoner,’ said he. ‘May it please your honor,’ said I, attempting to explain, and essaying to leap down, in which endeavor the spikes caught in the skirts of my coat, and I hung fast—‘may it please your honor—’ ‘It doesn’t please me, you rascal,’ said the judge, waxing angry, ‘to be bearded by a prisoner.’ ‘It’s all a mistake,’ said I, struggling to get loose, while the perspiration rolled off me, and I heard the suppressed tittering around. ‘So says every thief,’ retorted the judge, in a towering passion. ‘But I’m an attorney!’ I answered. ‘All the worse for you,’ roared his honor. ‘I’m counsel in the case!’ said I, ‘Then, if you defend yourself, you have a