A DAY'S RIDE, A LAW'S ROMANCE.
(A Story of the Long Vacation.)
"Mr. Briefless," said an eminent solicitor to me the other day, "I want you to go to East Babbleton, in Guiltshire, to see if the Great Gooseberry Will case is still open. It is a matter of vital importance, and I shall be glad if you can attend to it to-morrow."
Referring to Portington, I found that my diary was clear for the day specified, and I expressed my willingness to carry out my client's instructions.
"I must know at once," continued the gentleman, "because I desire to bring the matter before the Vacation Judge on an originating summons. I need scarcely add, that you will get the fullest particulars from the parish clerk."
Although rather imperfectly instructed, I determined to visit East Babbleton. The usual sources of railway information led me to believe that the place was six or seven miles distant from Nearvices in Guiltshire. I determined to go to Nearvices, taking with me my two lads (home for the holidays), George Lewis Herschell and Edward Clarke Russell. Before now I have explained that my sons' Christian names have been selected with a view to assisting (in after years) their professional advancement. We had to start at an unusually early hour from London, and after enjoying the companionship of some sportsmen, who talked about "duck" and "roots" for a quarter of a day, arrived at Nearvices at eleven o'clock. I made at once for the Red Lion, the principal hotel in the town. My sons followed me, eager for breakfast. Until then, they had satisfied their appetite by the stealthy consumption of about half-a-pound of a sweetmeat that is, I believe, known as Japanese Almond Rock.
The "Red Lion" was in a state of great commotion. There were people in high hats at the door, people in high hats looking out of the coffee-room window, people in high hats thronging the hall. With some trouble my lads and I got our breakfast, then I asked for the ostler. He came to me after a pause and awaited my orders.
"I want a trap to take me over to East Babbleton," I said; "and should like to know how much it will cost."
"Very sorry, Sir, but, I can't do it for you. All the carriages in the house are hired. You know, Sir, Miss Smith is going to be married, and consequently you can't get a conveyance for love or money."
I was seriously annoyed, as the instructions of my client were explicit.