Another witness got the better of his cross-questioner in a simple way. The question in dispute turned upon the identity of a particular box, and this witness was called to prove that the nails in the box had been made by him. The advocate for the other side ridiculed the idea that any man could recognise his own made nails, and badgered the man into desperation. The poor fellow at last leant across the witness-box and asked his tormentor if he would allow him to look at a sheet of paper lying in front of the counsel, who had been making some jottings on it. Having got the paper into his hands, the man turned to the advocate and asked, ‘Is that your hand o’ vrite?’ ‘Yes, it is,’ was the reply. ‘But hoo can you prove it’s yours? Could you swear to it anywhere?’ ‘Of course I could.’ ‘Weel, then, if you can swear to your hand o’ vrite, hoo the deevil should I no’ swear to my ain nails?’ One of the last of the old race of Scottish judges was Lord Neaves, an excellent lawyer and accomplished scholar, with so much humour, wit and bonhommie that he generally became the centre of any company where he might be. One of his favourite diversions was to write songs, which he sang at convivial gatherings, such as the Royal Society Club in Edinburgh. Many of these appeared first in print among the pages of _Blackwood’s Magazine_, to which he was for many years a valued contributor, and he collected them into a little volume entitled _Songs and Verses, Social and Scientific, by an Old Contributor to ‘Maga.’_ Some of these were inimitably clever, and as sung or chanted by him in his cracked, unmusical voice, with appropriate gesticulations and modulations, they were irresistibly droll. Some of the scientific ditties, dashed off in the intervals of work in court, and sung the same evening at the club, were brimful of fun and wit, hitting off points in theory or in dispute with great acumen. Among these may be mentioned ‘The Origin of Species,’ a versified account of Darwin’s views; ‘Stuart Mill on Mind and Matter’; and ‘The Origin of Language.’ Some of the social ditties were likewise delightful, such as ‘I’m very fond of water,’ ‘The Permissive Bill,’ ‘Let us all be unhappy on Sunday’ (which has already been cited), and the ‘Sheriffs life at sea.’ A verse of one or two of these may be quoted here. Pray what is this Permissive Bill That some folks rave about? I can’t with all my pains and skill Its meaning quite make out. ‘O! it’s a little simple Bill That seeks to pass _incog._ To _permit_ ME--to _prevent_ YOU-- From having a glass of grog!’ When appointed Sheriff of Orkney and Shetland, Neaves had at stated times to proceed by steamboat from Granton to these northern isles, and in one of the songs above enumerated he gives a humorous account of his experiences, which shows that he was not always a good sailor.