The Scots Bench and Bar have long been famous for their humours. Our northern environment seems to be peculiarly favourable to the growth and development of "characters." Within the last few months certain monthly periodicals have published reminiscences of the English and Irish Bench and Bar, and this has prompted the appearance in our Scots press of similar reminiscences illustrating the legal' wit and humour of the old Parliament House of Edinburgh, where now the Court of Session holds its sittings. The anecdotes are' all racy of our soil, not a few of them of quite a different flavour to those narrated South of the Tweed, and some. of the more characteristic about the late Lord Deas may be "waked" for the delactation of Scots who are "furth Lord Deas was a great lawyer, and an ornament of the Scots Bench, but in his later years he developed an uncertainty of temper, Macers, trumpeters, advocates. depute, even the usually somnolent clerks "of Court, trembled at his nod. "It is a most extraordinary thing," he once shouted to the maitre-d'hétel at one of the official dinners, "that although I have been coming on circuit to this place for the last 15 years, I cannot get a hot potato served at my table!" Whereupon the functionary, who was obviously prepared for the emergency, popped the desired vegetable on his Lordship's plate. "Do you call that a hot potato?" demanded Lord Deas indignantly. "I can assure your Lordship," was the reply, "that I myself. brought it in a napkin straight from thie kitchen." But the irate Judge refused to be molified, end grumbled, "Well, it's a very small one!"
One of the last of the circuit Judges to insist on the attendance of the Advocate-Depute at his breakfast table, Lord Deas' invariable complaint was that he could not get his tea sufficiently strong. A waggish and greatly daring counsel for the Crown hit upon the expedient wf preparing the beverage overnight and allowing to stew on the hob till mornin Then he poured into his Lordship's breakfast cup a_forbidding-looking brown compound, with the cheerful remark that he thought he had made it sufficiently strong at last. The old Judge's eye twinkled, but he said not a word for a minute or two. Then, passing his cup he grimly asked that some hot water should be added. "I thought I had made it too strong," the Advocate chuckled gleefully. It's not too strong," was the indignant reply, "It's growing cold!"
Between Lord Deas and Lord Kincairney, while the latter still practised at the Bar as Mr, Gloag, there used to be frequent passages of arms. In an action between relatives about the division of some heritable property, the Judge suggested that Mr.' Gloag's clients could make all right by "putting up & partition." "Your Lordship might as well put up a prayer!" was the snapping retort, On another occasion counsel observed that "The field in dispute is entirely surrounded by a fence." "Stop, stop! that canna be!" interpolated Lord Deas; "I see delineated in the plan a ' gate at th nor-west corner." "And what is a gate but a piece of a fence that opens?" was the unexpected counter-thrust. For once the old Judge was left with no word of reply. a business exhibition recently held in London and in the presence of several hundred people a record jor high-speed typing in Great Britain was made by A.G. Curtis. of the Dictaphone Company, who maintained an average of 133 words per minute for a half hour. Mr. Edgar Wallace, the novelist, who acted as judge, used as a test matter a highly religious subject with which Curtis was unacquaint-
ASTHMA, INFLUENZA, NASAL CATARRH,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.