There was a certain Chancellor in Ireland who was born a few years after
his father and mother had separated. As he did not like Jerry, he used
to make a great fuss about how he should pronounce his name. At last in
Court one day he burst out:--

'Pray tell me what you wish me to call you--Mr. Kellegher, or Mr.
Kellaire?'

'Call me anything you like, my lud, so long as you call me born in
wedlock.'

The Chancellor did not score that time.

At one time there were grave complaints made about the light-hearted way
in which Jerry handled his cases, and his practice fell off. He was
conversing with a very stupid judge, lately elevated to the Bench, and
observed:--

'It's a very extraordinary world: you have risen by your gravity, and I
have fallen by my levity.'

He had a son who, in my time, had a large practice at the Bar, but I
never came across him, nor did I ever hear that there was anything
remarkable about him, except that he was not so witty as his father,
which was not wonderful.

After all, as Jerry was before my own experience, I must not delay over
him, so I will only give one more tale about him, and pass on.