fort, he soon reached the rack before his
door, and dismounted. The rack was crooked and quailed--the house was
old and dingy--the very knocker on the door frowned grimly at the
wayfarer who paused before it. One would have said that Mr. Rushton's
manners, house, and general surrounding, would have repelled the
community, and made him a thousand enemies, so grim were they. Not at
all. No lawyer in the town was nearly so popular--none had as much
business of importance entrusted to them. It had happened in his
case as in a thousand others, which every one's experience must have
furnished. His neighbors had discovered that his rude and surly
manners concealed a powerful intellect and an excellent heart--and
even this rudeness had grown interesting from the cynical dry humor
not unfrequently mingled with it.

A huge table, littered with old dingy volumes, and with dusty rolls
of papers tied with red tape--a tall desk, with a faded and
ink-bespattered covering of brown cloth--a lofty set of "pigeon
holes," nearly filled with documents of every description--and a set
of chairs and stools in every state of dilapidation:--there was the
ante-room of Joseph Rushton, Esq., Attorney-at-Law and Solicitor in
Chancery.

No window panes ever had been seen so dirty as those which graced the
windows--no rag-carpet so nearly resolved into its component elements,
had ever decorated human dwelling--and perhaps no legal den, from
the commencement of the world to that time, had ever diffused so
unmistakeable an odor of parchment, law-calf, and ancient dust!

The apartment within the first was much smaller, and here Mr. Rushton
held his more confidential interviews. Few persons entered it,
however; and even Roundjacket would tap at the door before entering,
and generally content himself with thrusting his head through the
opening, and then retiring. Such was the lawyer's office.

CHAPTER VI.

IN WHICH MR. ROUNDJACKET FLOURISHES HIS RULER.

Roundjacket was Mr. Rushton's clerk--his "ancient clerk"--though the
gentleman was not old. The reader has heard the lawyer say as much.
Behold Mr. Roundjacket now, with his short, crisp hair, his cynical,
yet authoritative face, his tight pantaloons, and his spotless shirt
bosom--seated on his tall stool, and gesticulating persuasively. He
brandishes a ruler in his right hand, his left holds a bundle of
manuscript; he recites.

Mr. Rushton's entrance does not attract his attention; he cont