to nis case,' informed him that Mr. Croker had appointed five o'clock the same afternoon for a consultation, and that he would meet him there, at that hour.

The Chambers of that eminent Counsel were besieged from morning till night with a throng of anxious clients waiting to bespeak five minutes with him, but so entirely was his time engaged, that many were forced to go away without the desired interview, and to resort to the advice of some inferior oracle. A very fortune was on Mr. Croker's row of tables. Had one counted up the sum total of the fees marked on the papers which covered them, they would have made, in a single day, a pretty little year's income for any moderate man. The only marvel was how any one head could take in, and digest, the volumes of facts and points of Law, which each history gave rise to, and which had already made that head prematurely bald with thought. In his new wig and gown, as the clock struck the appointed hour, came Harold to his first consultation; paper and books in hand.

Mr. Croker bowed to Harold and Harold to Mr. Croker, who tapping his snuff-box, (as though to lay in a store of inspiration) remarked good-naturedly, "Could never get on without it, Mr. St. Just. But what is all this about?What do you think of it?"

Harold with the due obedience of a Junior' was proceeding to give him an outline of the case, when his leader singled out of a hundred papers the one to which his mind was now to be directed, and without appearing to expect a reply to his enquiry, proceeded to glance through it (as Harold could not fail to perceive) for the first time. So he remained silent, watching with interest the broad brow, and piercing eye, which were grappling with the intricate compound of law and fact.

In nearly as short a time as Harold could have explained it to him in, Mr. Croker had extracted the pith from their 'case,' and laying the papers down, again tapped his snuff-box, and appeared to have sufficiently made up his mind about the matter.

He now repeated his question, "what Mr. St. Just thought of the 'case?'"

Harold replied modestly that it "seemed to him one of considerable doubt, but that he had thought it was not one for an 'Equity' man to advise on; and that he had therefore recommended his client to go to some' Common Law' barrister."

“Quite right, St. Just, I think so too. It is impossible we can go into all this. It is a question of 'Law.' Be good enough to write our joint opinion, and send it to me to sign."

The consultation was at an end. The bell was rung, the clerk informed that his Master was ready for the next, and Harold retired.

His mind was infinitely relieved by the concurrence of Mr. Croker in his opinion, though the effect on both Plowden and his client was evidently the reverse, who had not only expended time and money to no purpose in referring to the two Chancery barristers; but had now to go over the whole matter again, and lay it before a distinct set of minds, imbued with dif

ferent principles of right and wrong, in the rival regions of Paper Buildings.

The morrow came, and with it the "Consent" in which Harold was retained. Three guineas was the stimulus to tempt him to it. How precious to the love-sick barrister is a first brief! How slender the toil which is consecrated to affection!

A first brief! Now for the first time he seemed to take a positive part in the great chain of human affairs which he had so long gazed on from afar, as an indifferent spectator. Now for the first time he was actually concerned in the administration of Justice! and he felt exalted by the metamorphosis. Hitherto he had only looked on sages of the forum as Deities of mythology, and on the arcana of a Law Suit as the uninitiated did on the mysteries of Eleusis. Now he stood erect among his fellow-labourers, with a feeling of equality. His long robes fitted

him with a better grace.

He was not careful

to conceal the red-taped bundle which was his credential with the multitude. Importantly he

left word with his clerk, "if any one called, to tell them he was gone to Westminster."

The Court was crowded to overflowing. It was in the parlance of the profession a "Consent" day; that is, it was one of those rare occasions when Counsel abstain from gainsaying all their colleagues wish. It was no easy work, such was the crowd, to make his way, so as to get within either sight or sound of the Judge. A perpetual hubbub ran through the Court, which rendered it impossible to hear what was going on. The thermometer over the Judge's head stood at 80°. At last he contrived with considerable muscular exertion, during which his new gown was nearly stripped off him, to squeeze past a regiment of corpulent barristers, and to condense himself into a space between two lean ones, in much the same sort of way in which the thirteenth passenger settles himself into an omnibus with only room for twelve.

He looked right and he looked left for his 'leader,' but among the mass of wigs could not