west, between the valleys which are formed by the hills of this
smaller range of the same mountains, is seen the plain of Vienna, in
the midst of which can be distinguished in a clear day the tall spire
of St Stephen, rising as if from the bosom of the imperial park which
conceals the capital. Beyond this towers the Neu-klosterberg, with its
vast monastery; and further to the left, like white broken clouds in
the blue horizon, are the snow-clad mountains of Steyer-mark (Styria.)

MY FIRST BRIEF.

I had been at Westminster, and was slowly returning to my 'parlour
near the sky,' in Plowden Buildings, in no very enviable frame of
mind. Another added to the long catalogue of unemployed days and
sleepless nights. It was now four years since my call to the bar, and
notwithstanding a constant attendance in the courts, I had hitherto
failed in gaining business. God knows, it was not my fault! During my
pupilage, I had read hard, and devoted every energy to the mastery of
a difficult profession, and ever since that period I had pursued a
rigid course of study. And this was the result, that at the age of
thirty I was still wholly dependent for my livelihood on the somewhat
slender means of a widowed mother. Ah! reader, if as you ramble
through the pleasant Temple Gardens, on some fine summer evening,
enjoying the cool river breeze, and looking up at those half-monastic
retreats, in which life would seem to glide along so calmly, if you
could prevail upon some good-natured Asmodeus to shew you the secrets
of the place, how your mind would shudder at the long silent suffering
endured within its precincts. What blighted hopes and crushed
aspirations, what absolute privation and heart-rending sorrow, what
genius killed and health utterly broken down! Could the private
history of the Temple be written, it would prove one of the most
interesting, but, at the same time, one of the most mournful books
ever given to the public.

I was returning, as I said, from Westminster, and wearily enough I
paced along the busy streets, exhausted by the stifling heat of the
Vice-Chancellor's court, in which I had been patiently sitting since
ten o'clock, vainly waiting for that 'occasion sudden' of which our
old law-writers are so full. Moodily, too, I was revolving in my mind
our narrow circumstances, and the poor hopes I had of mending them; so
that it was with no hearty relish I turned into the Cock Tavern, in
order to partake of my usu