Jack. Defendant never saw plaintiff since the hour he was born; but, notwithstanding, they have three witnesses to prove a consideration and signing the note.

Ser. They have!

Jack. He is puzzled what plea to put in.
Ser. Three witnesses ready you say?
Jack. Yes.

Ser. Tell him, Simple must acknowledge the fote. [JACK starts.] and bid him, against the trial comes on, to procure four persons at least to prove the payment at the Crown and Anchor, the 10th of December.

Jack. But, then, how comes the note to remain in plaintiff's possession?

Ser. Well put, Jack! but we have a salvo for that; plantiff happened not to have the note in his pocket, but promised to deliver it up when called thereunto by defendant.

Jack. That will do rarely.

Ser. Let the defence be a secret; for I see we have able people to deal with. But come, child, not to lose time, have you carefully conned those instructions I gave you?

Jack. Yes, sir.

Ser. Well, that we shall see. How many points are the great object of practice?

Jack. Two.

Ser. Which are they?

Ser. Right, boy! Are you ready in the case of the cow?

Jack. Fretty well, I believe.

Ser. Give it, then.

Jack. First of April, anno seventeen hundred and blank, John a Noakes was indicted by blank, before blank, in the county of blank, for stealing a cow, contra pacem, etcet, and against the statute in that case provided and made, to prevent stealing of cattle.

Ser. Go on.

Jack. Said Noakes was convicted upon the said statute.

Ser. What followed upon ?

Jack. Motion in arrest of judgment made by counsellor Puzzle. First, because the field from whence the cow was conveyed is laid in the indictinent as round, but turned out, upon proof, to be square.

Ser. That's well: a valid objection.

Jack. Secondly, because, in said indictment, the colour of the cow is called red, there being no such things, in rerum natura, as red cows, no more than black lions, spread eagles, flying grif fins, or blue boars.

Ser. Well put.

Jack. Thirdly, Said Noakes has not offended against form of the statute; because stealing of cattle is there provided against: whereas we are

Ser. The second?

Jack. Injunctions, demurrers, sham-pleas, writs of error, rejoinders, sur-rejoinders, rebutters, sur-rebutters, replications, exceptions, essoigns, and imparlance.

Ser. [To himself.] Fine instruments in the hands of a man who knows how to use them! But now, Jack, we come to the point: If an able advocate has his choice in a cause (which if he is in reputation he may readily have), which side should he choose, the right or the wrong? Jack. A great lawyer's business is always to make choice of the wrong.

Ser. And pr'ythee, why so?

Jack. Because a good cause can speak for itself, whilst a bad one demands an able counsellor to give it a colour.

Ser. Very well. But in what respects will this answer to the lawyer himself?

Jack. In a twofold way. First, his fees will be large, in proportion to the dirty work he is to do.

Ser. Secondly?

cattle may be cows, yet it does by no means follow that cows must be cattle.

Ser. Bravo, bravo! buss me, you rogue; you are your father's own son! go on and prosper. I am sorry, dear Jack, I must leave thee. If Providence but sends thee life and health, I prophecy thou wilt wrest as much land from the owners, and save as many thieves from the gallows as any practitioner since the days of king

Alfred.

Jack. I'll do my endeavour. [Exit SERJEANT.] So! father is set off. Now, if I can but lay eyes on our Charlotte, just to deliver this letter, before madam comes home. There she is! Hist, sister Charlotte!

Enter CHARLOTTE.

Char. What have got there, Jack? Jack. Something for you, sister. Char. For me! Pr'ythee what is it? Jack. A thing.

Char. What thing?

Jack. A thing that will please you, I'm sure. Char. Come don't be a boy, let me have it. [JACK gives the letter.] How's this! a letter! from whom?

Jack. Can't you guess?

Char. Not I; I don't know the hand.

Jack. May be not; but you know the inditer. Char. Then tell me his name.

Jack. Break open the seal, and you'll find it. Char. [Opening the letter.] Charles Wood

Jack. Ay, but, sister, you do. Char. How, when, and where?

Jack. Don't you remember about three weeks ago, when you drank tea at our chambers, there was a young gentleman in a blue sattin waistcoat, who wore his own head of hair? Char. Well?

Jack. That letter's from he.

Char. What can be his business with me?
Jack. Read that, and you'll know.

Char. [Reads.] Want words to apologize hum, hum-very first moment I saw you-hum, bum-smothered long in my breast-hum, hum-happiest, or else the most wretched, of men.'-So, sir, you have undertaken a pretty commission! and what do you think my father will

Jack. Why, I hope you won't go for to tell

him?

Char. Indeed, sir, but I shall.

Jack. No, sister, l'am sure you won't be so cross. Besides, what could I do? The poor young lad begged so hard; and there, for this fortnight, he has gone about sighing, and musing, and moping: I am satisfied it would melt you to see him. Do, sister, let me bring him this evening, now father is out.

Char. Upon my word!-The young man has made no bad choice of an agent: you are for pushing matters at once.-But, harkye, sir, who is the spark you are so anxious about? and how long have you known him?

Jack. Oh! a prodigious long while; above a month, I am certain. Don't you think him mighty genteel? I assure you he is vastly liked by the ladies.

Char. He is!

Jack. Yes, indeed. Mrs. Congo, at the Grecian coffee-house, says he's the soberest youth that comes to the house; and all Mrs. Mittens's 'prentices throw down their work, and run to the window every time he goes by.

Char. Upon my word!

Jack. And moreover, besides that, he has several great estates in the country; but only, for the present, he is kept out of them all by the

owners.

Char. Ah! Jack, that's the worst part of the

story.

Jack. Pshaw! that's nothing at all. His guardian, Mr. Fairplay, has been with father today, and says he is certain that he can set all to rights in a trice.

Char. Well, Jack, when that point is determined, it will be time enough to

Jack. Then, Lord of mercy! why, sister Char lotte, it is my private opinion, that if you don't give him some crumbs of comfort, he won't live till midsummer term.

Char. I warrant you. Either Cupid's darts were always but poetical engines, or they have been lately deprived of their points. Love holds no place in the modern bills of mortality. However, Jack, you may tell your friend that I have observed his frequent walks in our

street.

Jack. Walks! Why, one should think he was

appointed to relieve the old watchman; for no sommer one is off, but the other comes on.

Char. And that from his eyes being constantly fixed on my window (for the information of which I presume he is indebted to you,Jack. He, he, he!

Char. I had a pretty shrewd guess at his business; but tell him, that unless my fa-Hush! our tyrant is returned. Don't leave the house till I see you.

Enter MRS. CIRCUIT and BETTY.

Mrs. Cir. So, sir, what makes you loitering from chambers?--I thought I told you, you should never be here but at meals? [Erit JACK.] One spy is enough in a family.-Miss, you may go to your room; and, d'ye bear?-I shall have company, so you need not come down. [Erit CHARLOTTE.]-Betty, no message or letter? Bet. None, madan.

Mrs. Cir. That is amazing!-You know I expect Colonel Secret and Mrs. Simper every stant.

Bet. Yes, madam.

Mrs. Cir. Put the fruit and the wine on the table in the next room.

Bet. Very well, madam.

Mrs. Cir. And, Betty, order the fellow to let nobody in but Sir Lake.

[Erit.

Bet. Madam, I shall take care. Mrs. Cir. [Sits down.] The ballot must be over by this ume. Sure there is nothing so dreadful as a state of suspence: but should they black-ball me!-No, there's no danger of that: Miss Mattadore has insured me success.-Well, this is certainly one of the most useful institutions; it positively supplies the only point of time one does not know how to employ. From twelve, the hour of one's rising, to dinner, is a most horrible chasm; for though teasing the mercers and milliners, by tumbling their wares, is now and then an entetaining amusement, yet, upon repetition, it palls.-But every morning to be sure of a party, and then again at night, after a rout, to have a place to retire to; to be quite free from all pain of providing; not to be pestered at table with the odious company of clients and country cousins; for I am determined to dine and sup at that club every day. I can tell them they'll have but very few forfeits

from me.

Enter BETTY, in haste, with a letter. Bet. By a chairman, madam, from the Thatched House.

Mrs. Cir. Give it me, Betty, this instant!Ay-this is Mattadore's hand. [Opens and reads the letter.] My deur Circuit-it is with the ulmost concern and confusion I find myself obliged to acquaint you, that, notwithstanding all the pains I have taken, the club have thought fit to reject'—Oh! [She faints. Bet. Bless my soul! my lady is gone!-John! Will! Kitty! run hither this instant.

Enter Two Maids, and a Man Servant.

Enter SIR LUKE.

Mrs. Cir. It would not only be against the spirit, but the very letter of their constitution, to choose you a member.

Sir Luke. Ay, madam, how so!

Mrs. Cir. Their statutes are selected from all the codes that ever existed from the days of Lycurgus to the present Czarina.

Sir Luke. Well.

Mrs. Cir. The law that relates to your case they have borrowed from the Roman religion. Sir Luke. As how?

Mrs. Cir. As no man can be admitted a monk, who has the least corporeal spot or defect; so, no candidate can be received as a member, who is deprived of the use of any one of his limbs.

Sir Luke. Nay, then, indeed, I am clearly cut out; that incapacity can never be got over. Mrs. Cir. Indeed, the Serjeant says, if the club the original law would signify nothing.

Sir Luke. My sweet Mrs. Circuit !
Mrs. Cir, Who is that!

Bet. Nobody at all, madam, but only Sir Luke.

Mrs. Cir. Oh, Sir Luke, such a stroke, so fatal, so sudden! it is not in nature I should ever survive it.

Sir Luke. Marry, Heaven forbid! But what cause what could

Mrs. Cir. Leave the room. [To the Servants, who go out.] Only look over that letter. Sir Luke. Hum, hum-[Reuds.]' fit to reject you'-this

Mrs. Cir. There, there, there!

Sir Luke, I own this is the utmost malice of fortune-but let me finish the letter- This calamity, dear Circuit, is of such a nature as baffles all advice or interposition of friends: 1 shall therefore leave you to time and your own good understanding.'-Pretty and sensible.

Yours, &c.' -But let us see, what says the postscript? [Reads.] Perhaps it may give you some comfort to know, that you had sixteen almonds, and but two raisins against you.'

Mrs. Cir. But two!

Sir Luke. No more.

Mrs. Cir. This must be Kitty Cribbage's doing; she has been tattling about the paltry trifle I owe her.

Sir Luke. Not unlikely: but come, bear up, my dear madam, and consider, that two

Mrs. Cir. Is as bad as two thousand.

Sir Luke. Granted; but perhaps it may not be too late to repair. Gadso! I have thought of a scheme-I'll be elected myself, and then I

warrant we manage

Mrs. Cir. You, Sir Luke? than never can be. Sir Luke. No, madam; and why not?-Why, you don't suppose that they would venture to

sure of

you.

Mrs. Cir. Never fear; I know a little tod much of the world not to turn this defeat to my credit.

Enter COLONEL SECRET and MRS. SIMPER. Mrs. Sim. Your servant, Sir Luke. My dear Circuit, I am frightened to death-your people tell me you are but just recovered from a

Mrs. Cir. Oh! nothing at all! a faintness, a kind of swimming-but those people are ever swelling mole-hills to mountains.

Mrs. Sim. I protest I was afraid that you had suffered your late disappointment to lay hold of your spirits?

Mrs. Cir. What disappointment, my dear? Col. Mrs. Simper hints at the little mistake made this morning at the Thatched House.

Mrs. Cir. That! ridiculous! I could have told you that a fortnight ago, child-all my own doing.

Mrs. Sim. How! Sir Luke. Entirely.