Gaylord Boswell Peterkin (and if there is any familiarity in the name of this first person narrator it is surely intentional) replies, in a series of essays, about the qualifications of his old classmate, Richard K. Billingsley, also a lawyer, for an Honorary Degree of Doctor of Law from their old school, State University. They are barbed, funny, and have an eye towards human -- accent on the man -- fallibility, and we see the subject in question at poker, with a hunting dog, during the war, at the office, at home, with an unwanted client, at a shooting party, in the matter of a horse. etc., etc. It all goes to show just how -- and just how unwittingly -- Billingsley has achieved prominence. This is very good deadpan stuff -- of which caricatures, acidly etched, are drawn -- for which practically all the men in anyone's acquaintance will fall for, legal preciousness et al. Two previous books, I And Claudie (1951) and Claudie's Kinfolks (1954) (both Little, Brown publications) may be remembered for their unsophisticated fun; this is sharper by far.