the wonderment of a mystified peasant replying
to a conjuror.

"Exactly; and no doubt they have already
proceeded against you; for Wrinkle and Clip
are what we call in the profession, 'no-
quarter men.' However, if you will leave
the papers with me, I will send one of our
clerks to Clifford's Inn, to see what can be
done. Good morning, Mr. Crample."

Mr. Blindle's time was worth about sixty
shillings an hour, and he could not afford to
waste many minutes on a clergyman in
difficulties. Having bowed Mr. Crample out, he
thrust half his head into the clerk's office,
and exclaimed," Peggs!—look over this gentleman's
papers, and try whether you can do
anything with Wrinkle and Clip!" He then
shut himself in again.

Mr. Peggs turned over the letters (Mr.
Crample had carefully folded and docketed
them); and, having without much ado,
recapitulated everything that had happened to Mr.
Crample, concluded with the query, "Ain't
I right, sir?"

"Wonderfully correct!" said Mr. Crample,
holding up his hands in amazement. He had
made up his mind that the fatal bill
transaction was one of a most extraordinary and
unheard-of character; the like of which had
never happened before. By what divination
had the wonderful attorney and his more
wonderful clerk come to a knowledge of the
minutest circumstances?

The interview in Clifford's Inn is short
and decisive. Mr. Peggs went in alone. He
pushed open a faded green-baize door, which
shut upon him like a rat-trap; and
addressed himself to a dirty man, behind a row
of rails, who answered to the name of Clip.
A dirtier individual, at a side-desk, took a
slip of parchment from a pigeon-hole, and
began to rub a dirty roll of cloth over it.

Mr. Peggs stated his business:—

"Come to pay?" asked Clip.

"Oh, no; merely to see about an arrangement!"
said Peggs.

"Debt and costs in full im-mediately are the
only terms," rejoined Clip.

"It's a clear case of bill-stealing," insinuated
Peggs.

"My client is an innocent holder," replied
Clip.

"Very!" said Peggs.

"You accept service for defendant? "
inquired Clip.

"We do," responded Peggs.

"Now then, Smudge, go it! " said Clip to
his clerk; and, before Mr. Peggs was out of
the trap, Mr. Smudge had made him the
bearer of a parchment command to
Carmichael Crample, clerk, to appear before our
Lady the Queen, at Westminster, to answer
Oloman l'Evy, upon promises, &c.

Meantime, the clergyman had paced the
flags of Clifford's Inn Passage, his mind
oscillating between anxiety and hope.
Despite all that had been told him, he flattered
himself that Messrs. Wrinkle and Clip would
rectify the "mistake," when they were fully
convinced that he had not received the
money they had applied to him for. When
Mr. Peggs appeared, he hastily joined him,
with the sanguine inquiry,

"Are they convinced of the error? Will
they forego"—

"Nothing."

"Peradventure they will wait?"

"Not five minutes," replied Peggs. "They
have commenced their action already. Here
is a copy of the writ! When they declare, we
shall plead—our defence is, no consideration,
and fraud, eh?"

Mr. Crample gave a stupefied assent. Peggs
walked to the end of Fetter Lane, with the
bewildered defendant, and then, wishing him
good day, cast him adrift on the ocean of
London, without rudder or compass.

The next morning, when Mr. Crample had
slept upon his misfortunes, Hope, as was her
wont in his case, returned to him with
undiminished brightness. All would be right.
Messrs. Blindle and Blob would, doubtless,
do all that was necessary; and he would
return to Crookenden to await the result.

The curate dreams on; and the creditors wait
with exemplary patience. Sugar and butter are
banned the parsonage; domestic prayers, read
by Jane, have been established on Sundays,
for the benefit of the younger branches, and
for the want of Sunday attire fit for
exhibition at church. At length the day of trial
approaches; and, when it arrives, the
defendant takes another expensive journey to
London. He smilingly paces Westminster
Hall; for he feels confident of a verdict in the
cause of l'Evy v. Crample, clerk. He knows
that great efforts have been made by Blindle
and Blob to secure that issue; for, on making
a modest application to Dr. Recumber to
guarantee their costs, the Doctor declined;
and, as Oloman l'Evy was reputed to be
wealthy, a verdict for the defendant was a
matter of moment to "the office." One
favourable circumstance had occurred: Messrs.
St. John Clare, Thompson, and Company, had
been tried at the Central Criminal Court, in
the name of Higgs (with an appendix of six
aliases) in respect of another bill of exchange;
across which, he (Higgs) had—quite
accidentally, as he averred—written a wrong name.
The finding of the jury implied forgery, and the
sentence of the judge was transportation.

The matter of l'Evy v. Crample, clerk, did
not occupy her Majesty, sitting by proxy in
her Court of Common Pleas, much time.

The plaintiff's counsel, in opening the case,
made a playful allusion to the misfortune of
Messrs. St. John Clare, Thompson, and
Company (alias Higgs); but, indignantly repudiated
any connexion, on the part of his unimpeachable
client, with that atrocious convict. The
acceptance had, he asserted, passed through
several hands; and plaintiff—who was a highly