clergyrnan for his Latin lessons, hurried back
almost heartbroken at the accident to his
beloved horse, and his father hastened with
him to the help of the poor animal, and
dressed the foot; but though our gallant
Hotspur was tended with every care, first
for some weeks where the hurt occurred, and
afterwards for months at home, and bandages,
splints, leather stockings, and every possible
device tried for his benefit, and although,
contrary to the opinion of the learned in
such matters, the sinews apparently re-united,
and the leg recovered its strength, the joint
still remains stiff, and the beautiful horse
irrecoverably injured and blemished. I am
now accustomed to look out for glass bottles
as keenly as for snakes; and we often stop,
when riding or driving, to dismount and stow
some vicious-looking green glass horror safely
away in a hollow log, or mash it up with
stones, to prevent any other luckless
creature suffering like our poor horse. Our
dogs are continually getting their feet cut,
and I believe generally by the same
means.

CHIP.

THE LAWYER'S BEST FRIENDS.

I AM a lawyer, and therefore, (after
incontrovertible popular opinion) a Rogue. It is in
vain that I attempt to solace myself with the
fact that the very highest authority in the
realm has professed to entertain a different
estimate of my moral character, as appears
by a precious roll of parchment in my possession,
bearing the inscription, "To our well-
beloved Titus Weasel, Gentleman, Greeting,
know ye, that we, very much confiding in
your fidelity, industry, and provident
circumspection, assign you, &c." The arbitrary vox
populi, against which there is no Court of
Appeal, rules it otherwise. Witness the
Honourable Augustus Fastly, who in the
smoking-room of the Megatherium, asserts
that "the Incorpowated Law Society's Hall in
Chancewy Lane, is the gweatest manufactowy
of Wogues in the kingdom;" witness Huggins,
who in the tap-room of the Cat and Bagpipes,
with more conciseness, says that "them
lawyers is the most infernal rogues going."
The popular dramatists of all ages—who
hold the mirror up to nature—have invariably
introduced members of my profession amongst
their dramatis personæ,in this capacity:
sometimes as ferrety, vivacious, impudent rogues:
occasionally as heavy, solemn, oleaginous
specimens of the class: invariably with some
sinister design upon the happiness of the
hero and heroine of the piece.

It happens, however, that we, though
rogues, are not banished without the pale of
friendship, but participate in the amenities of
life, in common with the exciseman, the
sexton, and even Jack Ketch. I am happy, for
example, to own a friend in the parson. In
the greater part of the disputed will cases
which come before me in my roguish capacity,
I recognise the kind hand of my clerical
friend. The delightful ambiguity which exists
in his mind with respect to such phrases as
heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns;
tenants in common, joint tenants, tenants in
tail, &c., together with his insuperable partiality
for making the will of a parishioner,
which he commences—This is the last Will
and Testament, &c., and burdens with legal
phrases, until it presents much the appearance
of an Act of Parliament in convulsions, are
esteemed by me as evidences of the sincerity
of his affection. That he may long continue
thus to attend to the temporal as well as
spiritual concerns of his flock, is the sincere
desire of—Weasel.

For reasons very similar I possess a friend
in the doctor. True, that both he and the
parson might be looked upon as poachers
upon my manor, but I scorn to allow so
trifling a circumstance to interfere with the
current of my friendship,

I will make no particular mention of the
large circle of friends I am proud to own
amongst that portion (and it is not a small
one) of the landed gentry; who, being in the
receipt of five hundred a-year, think it
incumbent upon them to spend a thousand:
because they have been so long my friends,
and so notoriously known as such, that to
do more than thank them (which I now do),
would be to occupy valuable space for no
purpose. Neither will I do more than allude
to my friend, the ex-clerk (of whom we find
a counterpart in every town and village in
the kingdom), who in virtue of having
received the reflected light of the law in
that character, during his youth, is looked
upon as the general adviser and popular
authority, upon all legal questions in the
district, and lays down the law nightly, over
his beer, with the emphasis of a Lord Chief
Justice.

I will rather pass on to my friends, the
High Priests of the Mysteries, whose business
it is to frame the laws of which I am
an humble expositor. On the members of
the legislature of this happy country I look
advisedly as my best friends. Their
persevering ingenuity—only to be acquired by
the most diligent study of precedent—in
burying all simple facts designed for the
public guidance, beneath a dense medley of
verbiage, tautology, reiteration, and verbal
mysticism, that puts the legal acumen of
the most consummate rogue (as myself for
example), to a severe test to disentangle
one single thread of any practical utility
from the mass; their constant passing of
Acts to amend Acts of which nobody (save
themselves and the Queen's printer), has
been aware of the existence; their incessant
passing of other Acts to repeal other
Acts still, until it requires the most gimblet-
eyed clairvoyance to discover which are Acts