Another, for the truth of which I _believe_ I may vouch, because I had it, I think, from the lawyer himself, may serve to show that such faithfulness to clients may sometimes meet with an appropriate reward. A member of the Down East bar was called upon to save a man charged with passing a large amount of counterfeit money. After a long and severely contested trial, our “learned, eloquent, and ingenious” brother got him clear—chiefly by dint of protestation, coupled with a personal knowledge of the jury. On being discharged, the accused tipped him a wink in passing out, and our learned brother followed him to the lobby. There they stopped—the liberated man overwhelmed with thankfulness, and speechless with emotion; being a father, perhaps, with a large family, or a man of hitherto irreproachable character, who never knew how much he was to be pitied till he heard the speech of his lawyer. Unable to speak—he seized his hand—slipped something into it—and turned away, with a word or two, almost inaudible, about the inadequacy of the acknowledgment, and disappeared forever. Whereupon, our eloquent, able, and most ingenious friend, who was a little shy of opening the parcel in the presence of a bystander, withdrew to another part of the house, and ascertained—perfectly to his own satisfaction, he would have you believe—that he had been paid in the same sort of money which he had been laboring all day to show that the accused never had any thing to do with. And now, on the whole—was not this a capital joke?—a just retribution, and exceedingly well calculated to make a lawyer insist upon being paid before-hand, whatever might be the “contingent fee” afterward. Once more—for I do not like being misrepresented in the newspapers upon this particular point—being sensitive perhaps about Joe Miller; and, for that reason, always acknowledging my indebtedness to him and to his fellow-laborers, the newspaper people, who never tell a story without spoiling it, or making it look strange: there is a story told in England, upon which a play has been founded, to this effect. A lawyer was called to see a man charged with sheep-stealing. After a brief consultation, he saw clearly that, upon the evidence before him, there was no possibility of escape. And then, too—probably—the wretch was very poor, being only a sheep-stealer, and not a murderer, nor forger, nor house-breaker, nor highwayman, and of course, would have to be satisfied with poor counsel. Whereupon the learned gentleman thought proper to ask him if he had ever been deranged. “_Deranged?_” “Flighty—you understand?” “Oh—yes—to be sure: all my family on my father’s side have been very _flighty_—very.” “That’ll do, my friend; that’s enough. You are charged with stealing sheep—you know.” The fellow began to roll his eyes and look savage. “When you are called upon to plead—you know what that is?” “To be sure I do.” “Well, then, just plead to the indictment by saying _baa-aa_!”