Fables are handed down from age to age.
When my older brother grows out of his clothes, he hands them down to me, which later in turn I hand down to my little brother, if they're not ripped apart by then. We fall over a lot, this family of ours. And grow fast. Either way, my little brother ends up with tonnes of third-hand scruffy clothes. Maybe that's why he gets picked on so much.
The Clerk of the Court of Appeals handed down its decision.