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truth, you mus'n't complain if you are left to drown there a martyr.” This said, the attorney addressed himself to some papers before him: Jack, however, could not silently assent to the position of the legalist.
“ No, Mr. Candidus; no, sir ; even were a man -an Englishman so to perish, the verdict of the world would be "
“Suicide, under temporary derangement,” continued the cool Mr. Candidus, finishing the sen
The generous spirit of Runnymede shrunk from further contest with a mind incapable of elevated sentiment; and returning the fatal gazette to his pocket, he bade a frozen “good day” to the lawyer, who, with an eloquent shake of the head acknowledged the civility, and again fell to his papers.
Runnymede walked with the stride of an injured man towards his lodgings. He had expected “loud applause and aves vehement” from his legal friend, who, on the contrary, to the mind of the sufferer, had read a homily on the profitableness of falsehood. Jack had knocked at his own door, and had his foot upon the scraper, when he was addressed by a thin young man, with a yellow face, in very brown black.-“ I believe, sir, your name is Runnymede ?"
6. It is,” and Jack seemed to speak with new pride.
“ John Runnymede ?” asked the circumstantial stranger.
“ John Runnymede,” replied Jack very sonorously.
* Then, sir—"
Mr. Candidus was a true prophet-Allwork had not lost an hour in the pursuit of a remedy for his bleeding reputation. The stranger at the lodging door of Jack had, in a manner not to be misunderstood, made known to him that Allwork would appeal to the laws of his country for vengeance on his slanderer.
“ The sooner the better,” exclaimed Jack with a radiant smile_6 for thank heaven! I can then make known the truth-yes, thank heaven! I shall then feel what it is to be an Englishman."
JACK RUNNYMEDE sat in the office of Gregory Bricks, Furnival's-Inn, a skilful and, upon his own showing, a pious attorney at law, concerned for Jack in his coming trial with Allwork. The chivalrous defendant had disdained the mean advice of the conscientious Candidus who had counselled, if it were possible, an arrangement with the vilified party. Hence, in great disgust, Jack sought another Mentor.
“ And when—when, Mr. Bricks, shall we get into court ?”—asked the impatient Runnymede.
Bricks had opened his mouth to reply, when he was called into the outer office, to meet a client who, swelling like a frog, awaited the coming of the summoned attorney.
“ Mr. Bricks," said the stout stranger~" this is shameful, sir; there's that Pierrepoint-just dashed by me on horseback- on an Arab mare, sir; an Arab mare.
The saddle—the saddle for what I know would pay my bill."
“ Well, sir, and-heaven illumine me! what can I do?” asked Bricks.
“ Do, sir? why, serve the writ-do!”
“ It's mighty well” replied Bricks with ineffable composure “to say, serve the writ; but we can't do impossibilities. The bailiffs--heaven illumine them !”—
“ Heaven !” echoed the visitor, in a voice sounding of the other place.
“ What I mean to say is this, sir ; no lawyer can do more than issue a writ; the rest—and Bricks turned up his eyes towards a portrait of Coke" the rest is in the hands of the Lord.” The visitor looked an irreligious doubt.
6. He should pay me, if he pays anybody."
“ To be sure; but if he doesn't pay anybodyheaven turn his heart !--you can't complain of partiality.” Thus spoke Bricks, .
“ Some debts,” said the doggerl creditor, “ are nothing more than book accompts. Some tradesmen if they're never paid can't be wronged: they're safe from loss : now it's very difficult”—and there was a tone of experience in the dictum—“it's very difficult to cheat a tailor, or nine times out of ten, a wine-merchant."
“I can't say—I never tried,” said Bricks languidly. “But you don't call a wine-merchant safe?”
“ Yes I do-that is, very often-if you return the bottles. In fact, bad debts are only bad in any trade but mine. A man can't pay his tailor, his bootmaker, his hatter, and there's an end of itit's a simple contract, and he can't meet it. But, sir, in an accompt for walking-sticks, there's what I call a moral obligation.”
“ An article of luxury, to be sure," said the lawyer.
“ Especially when a man rides on horseback," added the tradesman.
“ Let me see. Heaven direct us !-I am afraid” -and Bricks spoke with a sigh_“I am afraid, we can't make him a bankrupt !”
“ He doesn't owe me quite enough,” suggested the creditor.
“ That's a pity,” rejoined the attorney.
66 And then he's a gentleman-ha! the Lord have mercy upon us !—those gentlemen give us a great deal of trouble.”
“ He'd a stick a week for two months,” roared the creditor. “I shouldn't have cared for the mounted dragon's-blood—nor the pheasant-nor the partridge-eye—nor the iron—nor the ivorynor the green-ebony,—but—but,” and the poor man seemed softening into tears—" but the unicorn I can't swallow." Indeed, it was too much to expect of
any man. We know that Vincent de Beauvais assures that in his time unicorns were commonly to be caught by chaste virgins, devoted to the sport. Now, whether in latter days, there are fewer ladies qualified to take out the needful licence, or whether they prefer to hunt other animals, or whether unicorns themselves are become scarce, we shall not here linger to enquire. Certain it isand the most superficial observer must have remarked it—a unicorn is not every day devoted to the bucks of London. And thus, when our tradesman had possessed himself of that, which the temporising scepticism of modern times consents to call a unicorn's horn—and thus when exquisitely mounted, it was yearned for by fifty opening purses,—it was unkind, it was unprincipled of Henry Pierrepoint