Have for a considerable time past been "eating dinners," preparatory to
being "called" to the Bar. Understand now what people mean when they
talk of a "_Digest_ of the Law."
Find myself (on dining for the first time this Term) in a mess with a
highly-intelligent native of India, another man up from Oxford, and an
African law-student. Latter black and curly, but good-natured. Says
there is a great demand for English-made barristers on the Gambia, and
he's going to supply the demand.
Have wild and momentary idea of going to the Gambia myself.
"Why," I ask this enterprising negro, "why don't English
barristers--white ones, I mean--go and practise there?" Feel that
reference to colour is not felicitous; still, difficult to express the
idea otherwise.
African doesn't mind. Shows all his teeth in a broad grin, and says,
"Inglis men die, die like flies, on the Gambia."
Curious to see the Hindoo law-student looking contemptuously at African
ditto. Hindoo a shrewd fellow. Talks English perfectly. Rather given to
gesticulate. Waves his arms, and incidentally knocks over a bottle of
the claret--at twelve shillings a dozen--which the Inn kindly supplies
to wash down the mutton and baked potatoes at our two-shilling meal.
Hindoo laughs. Tells me, confidentially, that he has practised as a
"Vakeel" (whatever that is) in some small country town in Bengal. Why
has he come over here? Oh, to be called. Will get more work and more
pay, when a full-fledged barrister. Gather that there are rival
"Vakeels" in Bengal whom he wants to cut out. He intends "cutting
out"--to India--directly he _is_ called.
Oxford man tells me in a whisper that "he believes he's a Baboo."
Indeed! Don't feel much wiser for the information.
African getting jealous of Baboo's fluent talk. Rather a sportive negro,
it appears. Says he goes to theatre nearly every night. Has a regular
and rather festive programme for each day.
"Lecture, morning," he says; "afternoon, walk in Park, sometimes ride.
Night, theatre or music-hall." He grins like an amiable gargoyle. In his
own country African law-student must be quite a lady-killer--a sort of
Gambia masher.
Incidentally mention to Hindoo difficulty of law of Real Property,
especially "Rule in SHELLEY'S Case."
It seems Hindoo understands matter perfectly. Begins to explain the
"Rule in SHELLEY'S Case." Does it by aid of two salt-cellars (to
represent the parties) and a few knives (to represent collateral
relatives).
African masher more jealous. Laughs at Baboo's explanation. He and Baboo
exchange glances of hatred. African, who is carving, brandishes knife.
Is he going to plunge it into heart of Baboo just as he's got through
his explanation? Looks like it, as the shilling claret seems to have got
into place where we may suppose African's brain to be. However, dinner
ends without a catastrophe.
After attending the usual amount of legal lectures, the "Final" Exam.
approaches.
Get through the papers pretty well. Thank goodness, no question asked so
far about that "Rule in SHELLEY'S Case," which is my "_Pons Asinorum_!"
It's a "rule" to which I take great exception.
There's a "_Vivâ Voce_" to come, however. Hate _vivâ voce._ Two
examiners sit at end of Hall--students called up in batches of
half-a-dozen at a time. Very nervous work. Find, when my turn comes,
that the intelligent Baboo is in the same lot! Appears to like the
position. From his manner I should judge that he'd been doing nothing
all his life but being examined by fifties in a cave, like this.
Examiner who tackles me has an eye-glass.
"Now, Mr. JOYNSON," he remarks, putting it up to survey me better, "if
you were a trustee, &c., &c., _what would you do?_"
Flattered at the supposition. Answer in a way which seems to partly
satisfy Examiner, who passes on to next man with a new question. In a
minute or two my turn comes round again.
"Now, Mr. JOYNSON," Examiner again observes cheerfully, "let me ask you
quite an elementary question in Real Property. Just give me a brief, a
very brief, explanation of what you understand by the Rule in SHELLEY'S
Case!"
But I don't understand anything by it! It's a piece of hopeless legal
gibberish to me. I stammer out some attempt at an answer, and see Baboo
looking at me with a pitying, almost reproachful, glance. "Didn't I," he
seems to say, "explain it all to you once at dinner? Do you really mean
to say that you've forgotten the way in which I arranged the
salt-cellars and the table-knives, and how I turned the whole case
inside out for your benefit?"
I admit the offence. Examiner seems surprised at my ignorance--informs
me that "it's as easy as A.B.C." It may be--to him and the Baboo.
Baboo, being asked the same question, at once explains the whole matter,
this time without the aid of the salt-cellars and cutlery.
A few days later go to look at result of examination. Result, for me--a
Plough!
Walking away dejectedly--("homeward the Plough-man wends his legal
way"--as GRAY sympathetically put it)--meet African law-student, who
grins insanely. _He_ doesn't sympathise in my defeat. Shows his fine set
of ivories and says:--
"Me failed too. Me go back Gambia. You come back with me!"
Tell him I'm not "called" yet: certainly not called to Gambia.
"Then come to Alhambra!" he suggests, as a sort of alternative to a
visit to the tropics.
African student evidently still a masher. Decline his invitation with
thanks. Wouldn't be seen with him at a theatre for worlds! Depressed.
Don't even look in at Gaiety Bar. No Gaiety for _me_--and no "Bar"
either, it seems.
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[Illustration: SOME NEW YEAR'S PROBLEMS.]
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