presided at many important political criminal trials about the year 1793-4, such as those of Muir, Palmer, Skirving, Margarot, Gerrold, etc.  He conducted these trials with much ability and great firmness, occasionally, no doubt, with more appearance of severity and personal prejudice than is usual with the judges who in later times are called on to preside on similar occasions.  The disturbed temper of the times and the daring spirit of the political offenders seemed, he thought, to call for a bold and fearless front on the part of the judge, and Braxfield was the man to show it, both on the bench and in common life.  He met, however, sometimes with a spirit as bold as his own from the prisoners before him.  When Skirving was on trial for sedition, he thought Braxfield was threatening him, and by gesture endeavouring to intimidate him; accordingly, he boldly addressed the Bench:—­“It is altogether unavailing for your Lordship to menace me, for I have long learnt not to fear the face of man.”  I have observed that he adhered to the broadest Scottish dialect.  “Hae ye ony coonsel, man?” he said to Maurice Margarot (who, I believe, was an Englishman).  “No,” was the reply.  “Div ye want to hae ony appinted?” “No,” replied Margarot; “I only want an interpreter to make me understand what your Lordship says.”  A prisoner, accused of stealing some linen garments, was one day brought up for trial before the old judge, but was acquitted because the prosecutor had charged him with stealing shirts, whereas the articles stolen were found to be shifts—­female apparel.  Braxfield indignantly remarked that the Crown Counsel should have called them by the Scottish name of sarks, which applied to both sexes.

Braxfield had much humour, and enjoyed wit in others.  He was immensely delighted at a reply by Dr. M’Cubbin, the minister of Bothwell.  Braxfield, when Justice-Clerk, was dining at Lord Douglas’s, and observed there was only port upon the table.  In his usual off-hand brusque manner, he demanded of the noble host if “there was nae claret i’ the castle.”  “Yes,” said Lord Douglas; “but my butler tells me it is not good.”  “Let’s pree’t,” said Braxfield in his favourite dialect.  A bottle was produced, and declared by all present to be quite excellent.  “Noo, minister,” said the old judge, addressing Dr. M’Cubbin, who was celebrated as a wit in his day, “as a fama clamosa has gone forth against this wine, I propose that you absolve it,”—­playing upon the terms made use of in the Scottish Church Courts.  “Ay, my Lord,” said the minister, “you are first-rate authority for a case of civil or criminal law, but you do not quite understand our Church Court practice.  We never absolve till after three several appearances.”  The wit and the condition of absolution were alike relished by the judge.  Lord Braxfield closed a long and useful life in 1799.