Laurent Milliadon and the millionaire John McDonough were litigious in their characters; and their names occur in the report of the Supreme Court decisions more frequently than those of any ten other men in the State.  Grymes was the attorney for both of them for many years.  They were both men of great shrewdness, and both speculative in their characters, and both had accumulated large fortunes.  Without any assignable cause, McDonough ceased to employ Grymes, and intrusted his business to other counsel, who did not value their services so extravagantly.  Mentioning the fact upon one occasion to Grymes, “Ah! yes,” said he, “I can explain to your satisfaction the cause.  In a certain case of his, in which he had law and justice with him, he suddenly became very uneasy.  ‘I shall certainly lose it, Grymes,’ he said excitedly to me.  I told him it was impossible; he had never had so sure a thing since I had been his attorney.  In his dogmatical manner, which you know, he still persisted in saying, he was no great lawyer as I was, but some things he knew better than any lawyer, and ‘I shall lose that case.’  At the same time he significantly touched his pocket and then his palm, signifying that money had been paid by his adversary to the court, or some member of it.  ‘Ah!’ said I, ’are you sure—­very sure?’ ’Very sure—­I know it; and you will see I shall lose this suit.’  He was not wont to speak so positively, without the best evidence of any fact.  ‘Well, Mac,’ said I, jestingly, ’if that is the game, who can play it better than you can—­you have a larger stake than any of them, and of course better ability?’ Well, sir, he did lose one of the plainest cases I ever presented to a court.  From that day forward I have not received a fee from him:  and now the secret is before the world.  He has been detected in bribing one of the judges of the Supreme Court.”

As an orator, Grymes was among the first of the country.  All he wanted, to have been exceedingly eloquent, was earnestness and feeling; of this he was devoid.  His manner was always collected and cool; his style chaste and beautiful, with but little ornament; he spoke only from the brain—­there was nothing from the heart.  In argument he was exceedingly cogent and lucid, and when the subject seemed most complicated, the acuteness of his analytical mind seemed to unravel and lay bare the true features of the case, with an ease and power that required scarce an effort.  His powers of ratiocination were very great, and this was the forte of his mind; his conclusions were clearly deduced from arguments always logical.

There were times when he would be serious—­and then there was a grandeur about him very striking.  At such times, bursts of passionate feeling would break from him that seemed like volcanic eruptions.  They appeared to come from a deep and intense tenderness of heart.  These were momentary—­the lightning’s flash illuminating the gloom and darkness of its parent cloud.  I have thought this