"I do not wish to make a joke," Mr. Inderwick, Q.C., is reported to have observed in the course of examining the plaintiff in a divorce case, but, in spite of this pathetic announcement, which passed without any comment from the Judge, the ruling passion was too strong for him, and he continued, "but Artists' models are not always models of virtue, are they?" Not new, not by any means new, of course, but he had apologised beforehand, and he couldn't help it; as the weak heroine, who yields to strong temptation in a French novel or play, usually acknowledges "C'Était plus fort que moi." The inflammable materials being in close contact, there was nothing to 'inder-wick from catching fire when in proximity to a spark of genius. Yet so powerfully had the eminent Queen's Counsel's prefatial apology affected the court and the audience, that his saucy sally—(for there is life in the old sally yet, whether in our alley or in this Court)—was not followed by the usually reported "laughter." How was it received? Doubtless with decorous silence and downcast eyes, expressive of sweet memories of dear old jokes made long ago, in happier and brighter times, "when all the world was young."

When a good old joke is again brought into Court with or without apology, instead of its being received with respectful silence, we should like to read that it was greeted with "tears" or "sobs." It would, indeed, not be unbecoming on the part of the Judge if, unable to control his emotion, he had immediately arisen, and, in broken judicial utterances, had adjourned the Court for the day, out of respect to the memory (for old jokes) of the Leader or Junior who had apologetically perpetrated one. Should Mr. Inderwick try this again, the new effect, as above suggested, may be obtained to the satisfaction of all parties, except, maybe, those to the suit, "whom," as one learned brother might say with another, and still profounder apology, "such a proceeding would not suit at all."