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Shapes of Clay

THE BROTHERS.

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Scene—A lawyer's dreadful den. Enter stall-fed citizen.

LAWYER.—'Mornin'. How-de-do?

CITIZEN.—Sir, same to you. Called as counsel to retain you In a case that I'll explain you. Sad, so sad! Heart almost broke. Hang it! where's my kerchief? Smoke? Brother, sir, and I, of late, Came into a large estate. Brother's—h'm, ha,—rather queer Sometimes (tapping forehead) here. What he needs—you know—a "writ"— Something, eh? that will permit Me to manage, sir, in fine, His estate, as well as mine. 'Course he'll kick; 't will break, I fear, His loving heart—excuse this tear.

LAWYER.—Have you nothing more? All of this you said before— When last night I took your case.

CITIZEN.—Why, sir, your face Ne'er before has met my view!

LAWYER.—Eh? The devil! True: My mistake—it was your brother. But you're very like each other.

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