Jarndyce and Jarndyce has passed into a joke. That is the only good that has ever come of it. It has been death to many, but it is a joke in the profession. Every master in Chancery has had a reference out of it. Every Chancellor was "in it," for somebody or other, when he was counsel at the bar. Good things have been said about it by blue-nosed, bulbous-shoed old benchers in select port-wine committee after dinner in hall. Articled clerks have been in the habit of fleshing their legal wit upon it. The last Lord Chancellor handled it neatly, when, correcting Mr. Blowers, the eminent silk gown who said that such a thing might happen when the sky rained potatoes, he observed, "or when we get through Jarndyce and Jarndyce, Mr. Blowers"--a pleasantry that particularly tickled the maces, bags, and purses.

Jarndyce and Jarndyce has become a joke. That is the only good that has ever come of it. Every master in Chancery has made a reference to it after dinner. Articled clerks have practised their legal wit upon it. The last Lord Chancellor said that getting through Jarndyce and Jarndyce was as likely as the sky raining potatoes - a pleasantry that particularly tickled the juniors in court.
