government progressive; and to make the wisdom of centuries ago
override the wisdom, or overshadow the light of the present, is a
paradox peculiar to our system of jurisprudence. There are lawyers and
judges, who enjoy a high reputation, whose fame rests upon their
profound research among the worm-eaten tomes of black-letter law, and
whose glory consists in their familiarity with the opinions and axioms
of men who lived and died so long ago that their very tombs are
forgotten. This class of lawyers and jurists hold in contempt all the
learning, the philosophy, the practical wisdom of the present
--rejecting everything that is not bearded and hoary with age.
Seated in their libraries, in the midst of their ponderous octavos,
their Roman and black-letter volumes, they reject with disdain the
commentators, the opinions of the jurists of the present century; and
brushing away the cobwebs and dust from the covers of their treasured
relics of bygone ages, they clasp them in a loving embrace close to
their hearts, exclaiming, 'These are my jewels.' Whatever has not the
sanction of ancient authority, is folly to them--worse than folly, for
it is innovation, and that is rank impiety.

"I remember an anecdote of the celebrated William Wirt, related to
show how ready his mind was, how instant in activity, and how suddenly
it would flash with an eloquence, superior to that exhibited by the
most elaborate preparation. He was arguing a cause before the Supreme
Court of the United States, and laid down, as the basis of his
argument, a principle to which he desired to call the particular
attention of the judges. The opposing counsel interrupted him,
calling for the authority sustaining his principle,--'The book--the
book!' demanded his adversary. 'Sir, and your honors,' said Wirt,
straightening himself up to his full height, 'I am not bound to grope
my way among the ruins of antiquity, to stumble over obsolete