turned in no very good humour, and finding two large pigs in my garden, made a boy, whom I had just hired, drive them instantly to the pound, and in the evening in came Richard with one of his looks, and asked for money to get the pigs out of the pound. "Out I get them out

I did not know; it was provoking-I looked like a fool. The man I had bought of, relieved me by pointing out my purchase, and Richard was for a time too busy to notice me. "These are pretty lightfoots," said he then, with his arch look, "where shall I take 'em, sir?" "Why," said I, “ know very well, to the field." "Oh, ay," quoth he, "but may be they won't like the field." I could not in the least tell what he meant, never having heard of consulting their liking. "Well," said he, " I will drive them there, but if they don't like it they won't stop." "What do you mean?" said I. "Why, them sheep be all greyhounds." Shortly after, I met a neighbour, and told him what a purchase I had made" And where are they?" replied he. "In the field above the house," said I. "No, they are not," says he, "for I have just seen about that number break over hedges, and away with 'em, as fast as they could scamper if those are yours you had better send after them" and going off-"When you've caught 'em, sell 'em." This was, in deed, a bad beginning. I went for my man he looked this time in my face as I told my story-and told him to go after them. "Oh! there's not much use in going after them," said he, "at least not without a dog-and away he went on the run. I, like a fool, I am ashamed to confess it, little dreaming he was gone to borrow a sheep dog, let loose my large Newfoundland, and away I went along the road, as fast as my legs could carry me. About a mile on I found the sheep; that is, I came in sight of them, and pointed them out to the dog. Off went Neptune, and off went the sheep; I saw him plunge into the midst of them he had brought down one, and the rest went farther than ever. He had, indeed, brought down one, and, by the time I came up, had made a good hole in its side. The poor thing was killed sure enough. Now I didn't mind the loss of the sheep, but was in dismay at Richard's up-look, which I knew awaited me. I met it, and was humbled" Your honour," said he, "had better keep a hunter, and a pack of hounds, for them deer's capital sport, and I see your honour's in at the death." After much time, trouble, and cost, the sheep were recovered, and as my friend advised, sold, at a loss. It was amusing enough to Richard the day of the disaster. I re

"Not

of the pound! - why I've had'em put in." "Then your honour," quoth Richard, "will be sure to get 'em out." I!" said I, indignantly; "let those get 'em out that own them." The fellow gave a double screw, and slightly curled his thin lips, and, affecting great submission, replied in a low and slow voice, "Them is your honour's own pigs." This took me by surprise, effectually dissipated my bile, I threw myself back in my chair, and laughed out most heartily. Richard put his hand to his mouth, made antics with his knees to suppress his mirth; but it would not do. He gave way to his humour, laughed louder than I, and then as suddenly stoppedasked my pardon, adding-" Sure your honour knows best; but I think we'd better get 'em out this time, and punish them (with a marked emphasis) next."

My second purchase was still more unfortunate. This time I did not trust to my own judgment, but requested a neighbour farmer, who was going to a fair, to buy me six sheep. "Six sheep!" said Richard, who was present, looking up now at me and now at Farmer L-, "six ewes in lamb this time." He looked again at me, as much as to say, " I doubt yet if measter knows one from t'other." The six ewes were bought-twentyfive shillings a-piece. I had heard that a good shepherd knows every sheep in his large flock. I had the curiosity to study the physiognomy of mine: -in vain, I never could tell one from the other, and judging from the intenseness of my observation, I much doubt the fact. Well, I now had six ewes in lamb. These will produce me at least a lamb each; that will be twelve - twelve sheep-twice twelve, twentyfour-and so I went on counting, till (upon my fingers) I was master of a tolerable flock. In the morning before breakfast, if any met me and asked where I had been, the answer was, "To look at my sheep"-after breakfast, "to look at my sheep"-before dinner, " to look at my sheep"-after dinner, the same. I was looking at my sheep all day, and "wool-gather ing all night." I dreamed of themI was Jason going after the golden fleece I was a shepherd king. Great things, they say, arise from small beginnings; so it was with me, wonderful speculations arose out of my six ewes in lamb. I did Richard the justice to tell him, one day, that he was as watchful of my six sheep as I was. He gave one of his looks, and said, suddenly dropping his speech into great gravity, "They must be look'd arter, for I question if 'twouldn't be best to send 'em to the butcher!" Send my six ewes in lamb to a butcher! Why send them to a butcher? thought I. Not long after, seeing Richard, I said, for something to say, "Well, Richard, have you seen my six sheep this morning?" "No, sir," quoth Richard, and then screw. ing up some, and unscrewing others of his features, " I have seen five, for t'other's mutton, and mutton your honour wont like to eat." One of my sheep was dead. The week following, another. I had now but four sheep out of six.-" Bad work, Richard," said I, "four out of six." "Four sheep and two skins, your honour will please to count them," quoth the scrutinizing Richard. To make the best of it, and be beforehand with my joke to my friend Richard, I said to him, "Well, we have four sheep and two treasures of skins."" No, your honour, excuse me, you're wrong there, four sheep only, the skins were stolen last night." There was no standing this it was The day after came the saddest news of all-Richard called me from my bed." " Them as took the skins," said he, " have come for the sheepthey're gone." "Gone!" said I, "where?" "Most likely," replied he, "to Fair." "The fairthat's twelve miles off, Richard." "Yes, sir, and them as took 'em must have took 'em in a light cart, for two of 'em never could have gone there a-foot, and be sure they're at the fair at L- by this time." Thus of my six ewes in lamb, I had not even a skin. I thought it right to send after them, and accordingly Richard went, and returned the night following with my four sheep. The thief, either finding them not marketable, or from fear or other cause, had abandoned them, and they were found

about a mile from the town. "I've brought 'em back," said he, " but I doubt if two of 'em be worth the fetching!" The following day another died, and within a few days another. My six sheep were now reduced to two. Richard had no confidence in their looks, and said if one would lamb it would be lucky. After a time they did lamb, and here was a circumstance I thought very odd, one lambed a day or two before the other. "Well, Richard," said I, jokingly, "we have now three of 'em!" "Your honour won't have 'em long," was the reply, and ere many hours the lamb died. In a day or two the other ewe lambed -two lambs. One was taken from her, and put to the ewe that had lost her lamb. She smelled at it, and kicked it away. It was then taken back to its own mother, but she would have nothing to do with it, butted at it, and sent it packing. They were all of them put into a small orchard; it was quite curious and sad to see the poor little thing run first to one then to the other, and be rejected by both. Here Richard showed his knowledge. He made a sort of coat of the dead one's skin, and put it on the rejected living on the "Disown'd." The creature took to it immediately. I had now two sheep and two lambs, for my purchase of six; then one of the sheep and one of the lambs got bad heads, and Richard pronounced their doom, and advised me to send them to the next fair-the lambs by this time were grown up to look as big nearly as their mothersI took his advice, and to the fair he went with them, and brought me back £1, 3s. 8d.; a pretty business this was keep thrown away-nearly all the purchase-money thrown away-all my looking at the sheep thrown awaynothing left but the remembrance of Richard's looks, sayings, and doings, which I doubt not, you, Eusebius, will think well worth the cost. I need not go on to tell you how the cow got staked, the horse wounded by a pick run into him at hay-making, how the sow devoured her young-these are minor annoyances. There were others much more serious, so that erelong I found my spirits flag; the love of farming, like most forced loves, departed from me, a general ennui came upon me. The "Majorque videri" came upon every trouble. I saw nothing in a pleasant light, for, as yet, I could not return to my former pursuits. The worst of care is, that it makes a man see, as it were, quite through the layer of pleasure and delight, that like a kindly atmosphere envelopes the world, down to the bare skeleton of things, and presents to the intellectual eye nothing but deformity. We become disenchanted, ungifted. As in the fabulous times, when gods mingled in the battles of men, there was a cloud removed from before the eyes of the heroes to enable them to see deities; so is it now removed by care to enable us to see devils. So much, Eusebius, are we deteriorated from the golden age. We are even beyond the iron-we live in an age of mud and ditch-water, which is continually stirred into horrible commotion and restlessness, by the tempests of our own wilful passions.

After that splenetic burst, let me shortly tell you how I came to give up the whole concern. I had no sooner bought my land, than the agitation of the corn-laws began. If successful, my land, I found, would inevitably go out of cultivation, perhaps the best thing that could befall it, while I continued to farm. The agitation would not be successful, said one, because the Premier thinks it madness and folly. "Very well," said I, "but he thinks the people's follies must be given into, and that modern ministers are not to govern, but be governed." "They wont ruin your land," said another-" but they

are going to do it," said I. "There will be a revolution, if they do," said he. There was a man once, said I, condemned contrary to the opinion of his lawyer. They are going to hang me, said the unfortunate. No, they wont, said the lawyer. But they have condemned me, said the unfortunate criminal, and I am to be hanged on Monday. They dare not, said the lawyer. But they will, I tell you, said the condemned. Let me see them do it, said the lawyer; I wish they would, that's all. Some such satisfactory result generally ended these discussions. I was like the man that said, if he had been bred a hatter, men would have come into the world without heads. I determined, therefore, to give up farming, before it gave me up. I determined to dispose of my foolish speculation, and have done so; yet, I cannot but tell you the last farming conversation between me and Richard. You know what a horrible season we have had. One day, as it was pouring rain, Richard said there was no help for it, but the-what shall we call it, what ought to have been hay, must be drawn into the yard, it was good for nothing but muck. "It's terribly wet," says he" and them oats is wet." "Ay, ay," said I, in disgust, "It's all wet, Richard, all wet, wet, wet." "No, your honour, quoth Richard, with his most exquisite look, "It ain't all wet, the cow's dry!"

My dear Eusebius, ever yours

MY DEAR SIR,

Your former kindness in admitting into Maga an humble attempt of mine to correct and illustrate literature by a reference to legal principles, emboldens me, after a considerable interval, to address you again, and on a somewhat similar topic. I am not without a persuasion that my zealous though feeble efforts in that article, have had a beneficial effect on literary composition; and when I see the universal success of a member of the legal profession in fictitious narrative, I sometimes ask myself whe

ther Leguleius has not contributed to inspire the public with a better taste for that union of imaginative invention and technical accuracy which so often distinguishes the pages of Dickens. I think also I see, though I am not entitled to say, that the very able contributor of "Ten Thousand aYear" must have studied in the same school. The greatest compliment, however, which I consider to have been paid to my views, is to be found in your own recent notice of Mr Moyle's State Trials, which, allow me to say, displays a taste for legal discussion that would have done credit to a silk gown.

Various circumstances, which it would be painful to particularize, have tended to disincline me for actual professional practice, which, although attended with its advantages, is on the whole, I believe, not worth desiring, and greatly beneath the level of a man of true genius. Not but what I should be willing enough to undertake the business of any of your friends or others, if particularly pressed upon me, and made worth my while; but, generally speaking, I feel quite indifferent as to either employment or emolument. I will not, however, yield to any member of the profession in a sense of its dignity, or a zeal for its advancement, and it is from these motives that I at present take up the pen. The legal profession, Mr North, has for ages been shamefully calumniated; in public or in private, in books or in conversation, on the stage or at the hustings, no jest is generally so ready or so acceptable as a wipe at the lawyers. They are denounced as the most mercenary, while in truth they are the most liberal, of mankind; as the most impudent, while they are the most modest; as the most tricky and treacherous, while they are the most fair and upright. Of their modesty and disinterestedness I may take another opportunity to speak; I propose at present to confine myself to their vindication in reference to the third charge that I have noticed.

It must be confessed, that the prac tice of the law leads occasionally to a good deal of verbal criticism and nice analysis. But it is utterly unjust to lay these faults, if faults they be, at the door of the lawyers, when they are in truth the legitimate progeny of human nature in general, and not of our profession in particular. In every town and hamlet in the kingdom, in all conditions and situations, innumerable persons are to be found, of every age and either sex, who possess the whole faculty of quirking and quibbling in the most consummate perfection. The same thing exists, and has existed in all ages and countries, civilized or savage; and, if these qualities are to be considered in any way characteristic of the legal profession, there are innumerable people in the world who have every thing of the

They go to the grave unheard of."

But, in truth, the propensities to which I refer are, as I have said, neither a product nor a peculiarity of forensic pursuits. The lawyer may reduce them into method and system; he may give names to his tools, and acquire a readier facility of finding and of handling them when they are wanted. But he does not invent or make them; and common life furnishes daily instances of those who, by the force of native genius, can cast all his rules into the shade, and "snatch a grace beyond the reach of art." The lawyer and the fencing-master have a near resemblance to each other; both of them acquire a technical facility which surpasses the average power of uninstructed talent; both of them invent a vocabulary of their own, to express the operations with which they are familiar; but both of them merely improve upon nature, and it is just as inherent in humanity to quibble and equivocate, as it is to thump or thrust. Let me add, that the legal profession ought to complete the parallel by chiefly performing its functions as a science of self-defence, by means of which the natural devices and subtleties of men may be parried and returned upon themselves, and the crafty foiled at their own weapons.

I propose in this paper to take a pretty comprehensive review of human history and manners, in order to demonstrate the universal prevalence of verbal frauds and evasions among all classes of laymen, to a degree far exceeding what is known or imagined among lawyers; and to establish incidentally, at the same time, that the science of the law, instead of suggesting or promoting such deceptions, is chiefly occupied in extirpating or retrenching them. I shall not here trouble myself to reduce my examples to distinct categories, but shall give them as they come to hand. I begin with some striking instances from ancient history, where the "prisca fides" appears often to have been of the most unprincipled description in ages and countries in which lawyers had never been heard of.

There is some propriety, perhaps, in beginning the list with a Carthaginian anecdote; though the Punic faith of later times seems generally to have been content with an open violation of fair dealing, without even the cloak of an equivocation to cover it. The foundress of Carthage, however, com. menced on a different plan. Virgil, who, with all his Italian prejudices, intended undoubtedly to represent Dido in an amiable light, has only slightly touched upon her purchase of the site for Carthage in these general words,

fact, bought, for a small price, as much land as could be enclosed with a bull's hide, (in the terms, we presume, mentioned by Virgil,) had the ingenuity to cut the medium of measurement into slender thongs, and thus acquired a very large tract of country for an old song, contrary to the manifest good faith of the transaction. Ancient writers have much puzzled themselves about the origin and etymology of the name of Dido, which appears to have been superadded to the lady's earlier appellation of Eliza, some assigning one explanation of it and some another. An ingenious philological friend has happily suggested to me that it may have referred to the transaction we have above noticed, and may be closely connected with the English word "diddle" -a phrase so appropriate to the true character of that proceeding. He also observes, that the story may have led to the old English term of a hide of land.

Having mentioned the name of Virgil, I am naturally induced to notice a very unworthy quibble to which that great poet has descended in his immortal Epic. I allude to the terms and fulfilment of the prediction of the Harpies, denounced against Æneas on occasion of his unwarrantable attack upon their property and persons.

ÆN. III. 254-257.