LAW AND LOVE.

OR GAINING A CASE.

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BY ICHABOD JONES.

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“So, Oliver, you have a case with which to commence your career at the bar?”

“Yes, thanks to Uncle Scott, I have.”

“And will you allow me to ask what it is?”

“Well, to tell you that, I must first know myself. I believe it to be in relation to a contested will, but as to the particulars you are as wise as I.”

“A will case, eh! I have heard old lawyers say they were the best of cases, as far as fee is concerned.”

“To-morrow I am to have an interview with my client. My uncle gave such a glowing description of her that he has quite raised my curiosity.”

“A lady for a client! why that’s better yet. By the bye, Oliver, you seem somewhat indifferent to the divine sex; and yet you have a warm heart.”

“For friendship, James, but how can I think of love, the owner of the six chairs, book-case and table you see, and nothing but my profession to rely on for the future. Love never flourishes in so stern a climate.”

“We have the best authority for knowing that it lives through the fiercest tempest, as well as under the beautiful skies of Italy. What do you think, Oliver, of a rich wife?”

“I think such advice comes very badly from you. Let me ask in turn why you are about to connect yourself with a penniless girl, when you might win the greatest fortune in town.”

This question came to the point, but it received no other answer than a light laugh as the young man turned on his heel to go.

“Well, Oliver, I wish you great success in the cause of this lovely client. Good day,” said he, in the gleeful tone of a heart free from care. And, indeed, if this could be the condition of any mortal in this care-worn world, it was that of James Ashly. Thus far in life his path had been strewn with flowers, and in the horizon of the future no clouds were visible. The son of an opulent merchant, endowed by nature with a good mind, and possessing in a rare degree that animation only to be acquired by intercourse with gay society, he was an unusual favorite with those in whose company he mingled, especially the fairer portion, whose gentle hearts are ever gracious, to that easy air and manner, too much neglected by their fancied lords and superiors. But he joined with these superficial graces of address, a cultivated intellect, stored with much useful information, which are so seldom united as to be deemed inconsistent, if not antagonistical. By the latter he retained all the good will and esteem which by the former he gained.

In his extensive acquaintance no friend was more valued than Oliver Barton, a young lawyer, in whose office the above conversation occurred, and whose fortune consisted of little more than a well-furnished mind and generous heart—a kind of wealth little appreciated in this matter-of-fact world. He had been educated by a maternal uncle, who rejoiced in the name of Scott, and having made choice of the legal profession, was fitted in due course for the bar. In the maiden speech he delivered, shortly after his admission, he gave promise of future eminence and distinction. Unlike his friend, he was reserved and somewhat diffident, but his intrinsic worth and handsome form won favor and respect by less striking, but equally certain means. It was only when well known that those nice shades of merit, which so permanently recommend their possessor, could be discovered in his character. His prominent forehead and rather heavy brow gave a slight shade of melancholy to his countenance, but their intellectual expression, increased by the steady light of a dark eye, commanded admiration. When he smiled a row of glistening teeth revealed themselves, and his features were lit up with a life and joy rendered more striking by their usual thoughtful repose.

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