course, listened to with particular attention by the younger aspirants to forensic fame. Attorneys, too, are there, peering about with a subdued and almost modest look, responding with a half respectful, half familiar, inclination of the head, to such recognitory observations as, "How do you do," &c; "Ah! is that you, Muggleton ?" which the seniors bestow upon them " en passant," accompanying the expression of the like brief courtesies with a significant look that seemed to say, "I suppose we shall meet again at Maidstone."

Our friend Tresham had partially intended to fall into the plan designed by his companion of dining on board the packet, but when called upon by the ringing of the steward's bell to descend for that purpose into the cabin, he finds every table so closely filled, the heat of the place so suffocating, and the mingled odours of steaming cabbage and British brandy so insupportable, that he instinctively rushes back on deck and gets into conversation with two seniors, in whose project of having a fish dinner at Gravesend, and proceeding on their journey in the evening, he obtains leave to become included. This new arrangement will separate him for a few hours from his travelling associate, but they will meet again at night in the lodgings prepared for their mutual reception. Two hours have scarcely elapsed, and thanks to the combined powers of wind, steam, and tide, the Topaz is disgorging her living freight upon the terrace pier, and Mr. Tresham has much ado to rescue himself from the importunities of a whole swarm of clamorous watermen, who, for some reason or other, appear to have settled it in their minds that he requires a boat to take him immediately on board the John Robinson, bound and sailing that very evening for Bombay. More cares now devolve upon him than attach to the mere personal surveillance of his own chattels, for in his capacity of "junior," he has received an intimation that to superintend the safe transport of the effects of the two senior friends, whom he has joined, to the hotel where they propose to dine, falls strictly within his province, a degree of additional responsibility which compels him to "look alive," as it is familiarly termed. A quarrel with a brace of sturdy porters, who demand a most exorbitant sum for conveying the luggage from the pier to the " Falcon," somewhat ruffles the temper of Mr. Tresham, which is not restored to its wonted serenity, until he finds himself, half an hour afterwards, snugly seated at a bow window, looking out on the Thames, discussing stewed eels and mutton chops with his elder brethren of the bar, and passing an opinion upon the merits of a bottle of Pallister's "soi-disant" old port.

A dinner to which, at least, the relish of appetite has not been lacking, a few extra glasses of the above mentioned most deceptive compound, and a deal of lively, desultory, chit-chat-who, that has ever had opportunities of enjoying the familiar colloquy of rising men at the bar, but appreciates its sparkling properties and fascinations ?--place our hero upon a footing of perfectly good understanding with himself, every thing, and everybody. He calls rather authoritatively for the bill, and defrays it: all such matters of pecuniary detail falling, of course, to the junior's department; orders a post-chaise, and inspects the stowage of the luggage in and about it, and, all being ready for a start, mechanically slides into his legitimate seat, that of bodkin, the two corners being amply occupied by the older and more experienced counsellors. Gracious nods are made by the trio, in acknowledgment of the respectful bows with which the innkeeper and other attendants salute them as the chaise drives away, and Mr. Tresham really fancies himself on the high-road to professional fame and fortune. His daydreams are soon broken in upon by a bye conversation which establishes itself between the two seniors, and to which he cannot help listening with a fixed attention. The subject of it is a sort of jocular comparison of each other's recent and prospective gains. The salient features of the dialogue are in Tresham's estimation, such remarks and rejoinders as these.

A. Well, what sort of a session did you make of it?

B. Why, not so bad an one after all: I got about a hundred guineas out of it.

A. Pretty well. I was agreeably surprised at Slinkum's paying my fees at last. I never expected to sack so much coin from that quarter.

B. The devil! I must look after mine! why, the fellow has not booked up with me for these two years.

A. Incessant dunning is your only chance of ever getting paid. What prospects at Maidstone?

B. Middling; I'm with the Attorney General in the great tithe case, and for the defence in the Isle of Sheppy murder; or I doubt whether it had been worth my while to leave town at all.

A. Ah, by the bye, that Sheppy murder; the parish of Minster retained me for the prosecution three months ago. Are you in Plump

ton v. Scroggins? the breach of promise case.

B. Muggleton said something to me about it. By the bye, you and I are together in Gobblebury v. Hitchcock.

A. I don't remember the names: no matter. Apropos, are not you for the defendant in Piggeridge v. Wiggins?

B. Yes; and that is a case in which we must prevail on the parties to compromise, for it will take us two days if it be allowed to come to a hearing.

A. That will never do: I have a consultation in London Friday night.

B. And I an arbitration Friday morning.

It is impossible to describe the kind of whet which the overhearing of the like conversational scraps, creates in the ardent mind of Octavius Harvey Tresham, Esq. for a participation in similar good things. By the time our travellers reach Rochester, evening begins to close in. Horses and post-boy being paid by the junior, and fresh ones put to, the rest of the journey is performed in darkness and comparative silence, their route, by the bye, from Rochester to Maidstone, lying through one of the most beautiful districts in England, were there daylight to survey the wide and fertile valley of the Medway, whereof the view is commanded by the heights, along which, the road partly winds. It is between nine and ten o'clock before the chaise and its forensic freight rattle into the gas-illumined streets of Maidstone. The two seniors are deposited at their respective lodgings, and Mr. Tresham finds his way to those which he is to share with the friend whom he had rather unceremoniously left to his fate on board the Gravesend steamer. They happen to be at a butcher's, and consist of a small sitting, and two bedrooms, of which the floors and ceilings approximate in a remarkable degree.

Mr. Tresham is received with the most obsequious respect and politeness by host, hostess, and servants; and being informed by them that "the other gentleman," who arrived about two hours before, has gone out to join a whist party and will not return home till late; thus giving Tresham the slip he had himself received,—our friend has full leisure to contemplate his new locality over a solitary cup of tea and poached eggs, served up with a promptitude and deference that tend to impress him with the idea, that a barrister-at-law is somebody, during the Assize-week of a county town. Everything, indeed, seems prepared and intended to minister to his comfort; the cheerfully blazing fire, the brightly plated candlesticks and snuffer-stand, the nosegay of wall flowers on the side-board, a couple of scent bottles on the chimney-piece, brimful of very questionable perfumes, paper, pens,

ink, and sealing wax, as invitingly set forth as in the letter-writing room of a club, all bespeak a previous minute attention to the possible wants and wishes of the learned inmates of the butcher's lodging, which is exceedingly gratifying.

Tresham retires to rest in a state of mental complacency. It is Monday-night, and the Commission has been opened that day, the real business of the Assize, therefore, only commences next morning; so he is in ample time for it. He goes to sleep, and dreams that two attornies are simultaneously enquiring for him, and quarrelling for prior admission. So fierce is the dispute between the imaginary men-of-law, that our hero awakens with a start, and then finds that the noise which disturbed his slumbers was caused by the butcher's opening the shop-door to re-admit his other lodger, on the latter's return from the whist party, at two o'clock, A.M.

The friends are reunited at breakfast next morning. The circuit porter has called, and taken a note of their address. Tresham's law books are ostentatiously set forth upon a sideboard; and a second cup of tea having been swallowed, the trampling of horses and a sound resembling that of a penny trumpet are heard. It is the high sheriff, escorted by a number of horsemen in blue, called javelin men, going in state to fetch the judges from their lodgings to the court-house. In a few minutes, those eminent personages are observed ensconced on the front seat of the sheriff's carriage, while the latter distinguished functionary, in full court dress, is sitting opposite to them, with his countenance dressed in blandest smiles. The mimic blast of the trumpet again marks the advance of the procession; and is, it appears, the invariable accompaniment of the goings forth and comings back of judges at assize time, as if an antithetical contrast were intended between the solemnity of such judicial progresses, and the Punch-and-Judy-like music that announces them. It is time, however, for Mr. Tresham and his friend to wend their way to the court-house too; and an avant-courier having been dispatched thither, laden with the paraphernalia of both, and two or three cumbrous volumes belonging to the former gentleman, they sally forth arm in arm; Tresham's reflexions on the gravity of the occasion being slightly disturbed by the circumstance of his companion's stopping on the way at a circulating library, to load his coat-pockets with new novels. "Does he expect to have time for light reading?" is perhaps the thought which flits across his mind, were it to clothe itself in language; but he withholds its expression. Arrived at the court-house, the friends make their way to a small room set apart for the accommo

dation of counsel, and crowded with wigs and gowns, in which, for the trifling consideration of one shilling, Mr. Tresham is privileged to hunt out his own robe and wig among a hundred others, and adjust his milkwhite cravat and well-starched bands before a looking-glass about two inches square. Equipped at length, he stalks into the civil court, and there, alas! any preconceived notions of self-importance which Mr. Tresham may have unconsciously indulged, are speedily reduced to perhaps even below their proper level, as he surveys the crowds of colleagues in the race for distinction, that surround and jostle him on all sides, and gulps down, as it were, whether he would or not, the withering feeling and conviction of his own utter personal insignificance.

The Grand Jury are not yet charged, so that at present the whole bar are concentrated in the Nisi Prius Court,―a circumstance which gives an absolutely imposing air to that forest of wigged heads emulously clustering towards the bench, upon which, in seeming unconsciousness of the confusion that reigns around, reposes the judge,-a very model of calm, undisturbed dignity. Some undefended causes commence the business of the day, conducted in a fluttering and inaudible tone of voice, by various bashful men of dubious standing, who, for the briefs they have received in them for the plaintiffs, are mainly indebted to the very fact that no counsel has been retained for the defendant. These being disposed of, and every man having duly provided himself with a printed cause list, upon which he thinks it proper or pleasant to scratch out the name of each case as it is successively heard, annexing a brief memorandum of its result, the more important trials are entered upon, and Mr. Tresham, perseveringly edging himself into a seat, enjoys the opportunity of listening to the speeches and cross-examinations of the leading men of the circuit. Once during the course of the morning he is in a friendly manner accosted by a young barrister, and asked if he be not a member of the circuit mess. Upon his rather self-complacent reply in the affirmative to this question, he is requested to disburse the sum of one sovereign, which he does of course readily enough, without exactly understanding the rationale of the demand. He soon finds out that the gentleman who had so mulcted him is, "par excellence," the junior of the circuit, having been called to the bar a term or two subsequently to Tresham; and that, as such, he has a host of duties to perform, among which is the collection from each member of the circuit mess of £1, to defray sundry inevitable but no very plainly specified expenses. While on the subject of pecuniary contribution, it may be as well to notice the scrupulous fidelity with which Tresham receives