“In ‘The Travelling Law School,’ as the name implies, the reader is invited to accompany a party of young students in a tour through several of the Atlantic States, the incidents of the journey suggesting succinct accounts of the main features of Federal, State, and municipal law.  A much larger sum of information can be thus informally conveyed in about a hundred pages than would at first sight be deemed possible; and notwithstanding the suspicion with which lawyers are apt to regard the transmission of knowledge through such a pleasant medium, we are able to vouch in this instance for its accuracy.  We have been particularly struck by the light which the author manages to throw, in a quick, unaffected way, on the characteristic features of the American Constitution.  This he does by illustrations drawn from the organic laws of other countries possessing parliamentary institutions, and his references, on the whole, are singularly exact, though he might perhaps have laid more stress on the centralizing tendencies which survive in the executive branch of the French republican Government.

“The plan followed in ‘Famous Trials’ is to take a given topic, like forgery, confessions, mistaken identity or circumstantial evidence and to illustrate the points best worth remembering by some actual and interesting case in which they were strikingly brought out.

“The instance of mistaken identity described by Mr. Abbott at some length is really much more curious than the Tichborne case, though the affair, having taken place many years ago in France, has been almost totally forgotten.  The true husband’s name was Martin Guerre, a man of fair social position and some property, who, after living happily with his wife Bertrande for about a dozen years, disappeared suddenly, and nothing was heard of him for eight years.  At the end of that time the same Martin Guerre, as all the town people supposed, came back, recognizing his old neighbors and friends, and looking just as he used, except that he had grown stouter and sunburned.  His wife also recognized him as readily as did his neighbors, and gave him an affectionate welcome.  To innumerable questions about occurrences in old times, he returned satisfactory and explicit answers.  To his wife, in particular, he rehearsed incidents of past years that had completely faded from her memory.  When they awoke, for instance, on the morning after his arrival, he asked her to ’Bring me my white breeches trimmed with white silk; you will find them at the bottom of the large beech chest under the linen.’  She had long forgotten the breeches and even the box, but she found them just as he had described.  In the face of such evidence it seemed impossible to doubt that this man was the genuine Martin Guerre.  Yet he proved after all to be an impostor, whose real name was Arnauld Du Tilh.  Yet strange as it may seem, on the impostor’s trial, although confronted with the man whom he was personating, he was able to