Bench as they sate at supper in the Hall on Monday following, wishinge them to cause 4 or 5 of those gentlemen who came up to the Bench in that disorderly manner to bee warned to appeare before his Lordship and some other of the Judges at Serjeant's Inn in Fleete Streete on Wednesday followinge in the afternoone." The result was that the ringleaders in this rebellion, including Mr. Heron, Mr. Coe and Mr. Garland, were committed to the prison of the King's Bench till they should find baile for their good behavior.

THE STAR CHAMBER MESSENGER.

This Mr. Edward Heron had only a short time before, August, 1629, figured in another disorderly scene by laying violent hands with some others on a messenger of the Privy Council, who, according to the version of the Benchers, endeavored to make an arrest in the House and was therefore disgracefully handled. The Attorney General's account in writing to the King was rather different. It was this: The messenger, who had been sent to make the arrest, "not knowinge the gentelman, found him in Lincoln's Inn Walks, and ther the party was shewed unto him, but out of respect to the place he then there forboare to attach him. Notwithstanding when the Messenger was quietly gone out of there gates into the street, about thirty gentelmen fett him into the House violently, pumpt him, shaved him and disgracefully used him, after they sawe his warrant and otherwise carried themselves rudely and unworthily. I propose, goes on the Attorney General, to proceed as roundly as I may against the offenders, to let them and others. see theire error; but I thought it my duty to acquaint your Majesty with the truth thereof." Nothing more, however, is heard of the matter. The probability is that the messenger's story was wrong and that he

was attempting to execute the Star Chamber process within the Inn. If so, it was a clear invasion of the privileges of which the members were justly jealous.

THE "REVELS.”

Chaucer in describing his "yonge Squier" among the Canterbury pilgrims says:"He caudé songés make and well indite Just and eke dance and well portray and write."

Dancing in those days was deemed one of the necessary accomplishments of a gentleman, and it formed an important part of the Revels of the Inns, not only of Lincoln's Inn, but of the two Temples and Gray's Inn. Was it not Sir Christopher Hatton's graceful dancing at the Christmas revels of the Inner Temple which won, as everyone knows, the heart of the Virgin Queen and laid the foundation of that lucky gentleman's fortunes? The word "Revels" is apt, however, to mislead. It conveys the idea that the Inns of Court were much addicted to feasting and revelry, or as John Evelyn calls it, "dancing and fooling." In truth the Revels were but part of the system of education of the Inns of Court, designed to form the complete gentleman. "There is," says Fortescue, "both in the Inns of Court and the Inns of Chancery, a sort of an Academy or Gymnasium fit for persons of their station, where they learn singing and all kinds of music, dancing, and such other accomplishments and Diversions (which are called Revels) as are suitable to their quality and such as are usually practised at Court." So the Inns danced. and masqued, and sang, and generally cultivated the Muses, as well as the stern Goddess Themis.

THE MASQUE OF 1613.-DANCING BY THE LAWYERS.

Here is an account of the grand Masque given by the Middle Temple and Lincoln's

admitted with a verdingale (farthingale-a hooped petticoat).

On one of these festive occasions, it was Candlemas Day, and the Judges were present, an unfortunate contretemps occurred. The whole Bar refused to dance, much to the mortification of the Benchers who had to do the dancing themselves, and "for example sake" they, the Bar, were put out of commons with a threat that "yf the like fault be committed herehence they shall be fyned or disbarred." The dances most affected were the Galliard and the Coranto. On these occasions of revelling the fair sex, at Lincoln's Inn at all events, were severely excluded, except as spectators. The Chief Butler is ordered "to keepe lockt the stayre foot doore leading to the gallery where they stoode."

THE NEW CHAPEL.

In 1518 the Society had built the great Gateway which still forms the most interesting portion of the Inn. A hundred years later on the strength of its increasing prosperity the Benchers determined to build a new chapel. It was to be a "fair large chapel" with double chambers under it, afterwards abandoned in favor of cloisters. It was to cost £2000 and to be designed by Mr. "Indicho" (Inigo) Jones. We have the result before us today. Such was the throng of noblemen and gentlemen at the consecration, May 22, 1623, that several were "taken up dead for the time with the extreme press and thronging." The opening sermon was preached by Dr. Donne, the Dean of St. Paul's, whilom a valued member of the Society, a master of poetical conceits, a distinguished civilian, a great divine and preacher. To his contemporaries Donne was a much greater man than Shakespeare, and today-so the whirligig of time brings about its revenges-who knows anything of the learned and eloquent Dean except as the subject of one of old

Isaak Walton's charming biographies? The Bible in 6 volumes, with a Latin inscription presented to the Society by Dr. Donne and gratefully acknowledged by the Benchers, may still be seen in the Library.

Of these and many other matters we may read in his quaint commentary on the times: how frequent were the visitations of the Plague in London and how the Benchers had to "take to flight" to escape them, how Queen Elizabeth went to St. Paul's to return thanks for the defeat of the Spanish Armada; how "slack" some of the gentlemen of the Inn were in "receiving of the Communion," and how that slackness caused them to incur the suspicion of being Popish recusants and to have interrogatories administered to them by Lord Burleigh; how Prynne, the intrepid author of the "Histrio-Mastix,"-dedicated by the way to the Benchers-was "utterly expelled out of the Societie," after the Star Chamber's sentence; how Sir Matthew Hale began his career in a half chamber in the Garden Court, "in the third staircase, three stories high;" how the Society tried to get the learned Selden's library on his death, but had to give it up, owing to "soe many difficultyes;" how Mr. Speaker Lenthall would not return the Society its "three dripping pans" lent to him; how Mr. William Ashley, the Chapel Reader, was allowed twenty nobles in addition to his stipend "by reason of his great chardge of his dyett in the vacacyon tyme and for the furnishinge of his chamber and to supply himselfe with books to enable him for the due performance of the wighty charge that lyeth uppon him;" of these and many other matters equally instructive and amusing we may read in these pages. Not the least delightful part of them, to the modern eye, weary of sameness, is the refreshing unconventionality of the spelling, inexhaustible in its variety.

H

E was a red-headed, freckle-faced little fellow of thirteen, with an inquisitive nose, and eyes bright as new-minted pennies. He lived on his father's farm near the drowsy village of Breakerton, spending his time principally in instigating sparring matches between turkey-cocks and game roosters, with occasional persecution of a bob-tailed cur dog by way of refreshment.

The neighbors at first agreed that the boy would develop into a prize-fighter, but a shrewd J. P., who had spent many years of his judicial life in watching the wily ways of the country lawyers, declared that Aaron Burr Bird had in him the mettle and making of a lawyer.

"Jist look at thet thar boy," the J. P. observed to the elder Bird one morning as Aaron Burr Bird triumphantly paused at the foot of a cherry tree, up which he had sent a

stray tom-cat in a swift streak of yellow terror, "jist look how he likes ter git er critter up er tree. That's er lawyer up 'n down-I mean down 'n up-allus er gittin' er poor divil in trouble up er tree. Whar, ef he cums down, he gits the hide tore off 'n him; er ef he jumps out he breaks his neck; er ef he stays up thar he'll starve. Thet boy's er born lawyer, I sez, an' when thet sort uv er humor's (an' I declare ter grashus them lawyers does sometimes tickle er body half ter death) in the blood you caint fairly git it out."

Aaron Burr turned his attention from the tom-cat a moment to gaze quizically into the visitor's face, and as he did so the cat slid down the tree. Aaron Burr, however, had caught a glimpse of him out of the tail of his eye, and wheeling suddenly, gave him a resounding slap with a shingle.

"See thet!" chuckled the J. P., "you cain't

fairly fool er born lawyer. He allus knows whar, when an' whicher way er cat's goin' ter jump. Tawk erbout er lawyer hangin' out his shingle! Thet's jist er blind-the shingle stays right in hand ready fer ter kiver er ter kill."

Aaron Burr was now gazing eagerly into the old J. P.'s blue-goggled visage. The squire represented to his mind the entire law of the county-one big, fat folio of justice journeying from place to place like a traveling library.

"Do I look like er man thet's been picked by sharp-tongued lawyers, son?" queried the J. P. at length. He had removed his hat to wipe the perspiration from his bald head with a red bandanna handkerchief.

"No, but yer head does," snickered the boy, unaware that he was committing a breach of propriety.

"What'd I tell yer erbout respectin' you' elders?" cried Aaron Burr's father, catching up a brush. "Ain't yer never goin' ter larn no sense. You ain't been no manner er count since I bought thet last almanac."

"Let him erlone, Robey," interposed the kindly old J. P. "I axed him er pinted question an' he giv me er pinted answer. Thet told me stronger than ever thet he'd be ekal to ther courthouse tricks. Er lawyer, Robey Bird, er lawyer must be quick on ther trigger er he won't fire his gun.

"Gimme thet boy fer erwhile an' I'll carry him through ther acts uv the last legislatur (ef they don't ruin him by showin' him gimlet-holes fer rascals ter crawl out uv payin' ther debts), an' portions uv Blackstone (who must hev dried up an' blowed away), with a taste uv Bancroft's history. You needn't laugh. I studied law an' wuz admitted ter ther bar before I wuz permoted ter er J. P.” The portly J. P. adjusted his blue goggles and gazed with supreme dignity into the farmer's face. "What say you?" he continued. "I'm gettin' up er law school. Can I have Aaron Burr er not?"

"Wal, he's no count fer nothin' else. Ef you don't git him I reckin the divil will. He kin go."

"You hear that, A. B. Bundle up an' let's be goin'," said the J. P., triumphantly.

Aaron Burr, being highly elated, dashed toward the house, and soon reappeared with the necessary paraphernalia; to wit, a few hickory shirts and extra breeches, with a plentiful sprinkling of hooks, pins, jackknives and a long spear to torture flies.

"Red-headed, all wool an' er yard wide!" exclaimed the J. P., as he patted Aaron Burr on the head. "Jist the stuff ter weave inter er slick an' shiny piece uv lawyer goods."

Then the preceptor and pupil drove off toward Breakertown.

Something like seven years managed to get up and go off from the honorable J. P. of Breakerton, leaving him grimmer, grayer and lamer in the joint, but not a whit less discerning in his cases. He still looked at the world through his big blue goggles. He had done his part in stocking the State with lawyers, sending them off with heads full of Blackstone and "Bankrupt" history, as he now called it.

Aaron Burr Bird had evoluted from a legal tadpole to a full-grown frog with big bass voice and swelling shirt front before the jury, though his legal associates called him "Red Bird." He had won many important cow and hog cases at the "Breakerton Bar," notably one in which he represented the plaintiff in a suit to recover damages for a "yearling" calf which had tried to butt the local freight off the track. The railroad people claimed self-defence. But Aaron Burr got them "up a tree" by developing on the crossexamination that the engineer had boasted to the fireman that he didn't propose to be "bull-dozed, any longer."

Old J. P.'s face beamed with pride when the jury brought in a verdict for the plaintiff. He smiled broadly, reminiscently, at the consternation of the railroad attorneys. "Up a