Leaves from an English Solicitors Note Book.

the identity of the manor, or of the beauti ful widow who thus became the lady of it; surpassingly beautiful she appeared to me in her widow's cap, and deep mourning attire; I was young and susceptible in those days, and I candidly confess that her beauty, and the calm grace of her demeanor, made an in delible impression upon me, as my chief and I sat at her hospitable board in the diningroom of the old manor house, previously to the holding of the court. I must not dwell on the amusing incidents attendant on the holding of the court, the beautiful simplicity with which the homage found all the facts which the steward directed them to find (I hope correctly) upon the most insufficient evidence. I remember there was one wit ness whom I had to examine as to a claim of heirship; when I asked him what was his oc cupation or calling in life, he answered gran diosely, " I call myself a publicity agent," and, on my pressing for a rather more definite answer, his son enlightened my ignorance by calling out, "the old 'un is a bill poster." After the holding of the court I was de serted by my chief, who had accepted an in vitation to dine with the lady of the manor, (happy man! ) and I was left to preside as his substitute at the tenants' dinner held in the village inn. This was a trying ordeal for a young man unaccustomed to such a func tion, for on me devolved the duty of propos ing the customary after-dinner toasts, "the Queen," "the Church" (responded to by the courtly old rector of the parish, who sat at my right hand and prompted me in the dis charge of my duties). I proposed the health of the lady of the manor, with all the elo quence I had at my command (pray remem ber, reader, I was at a very susceptible age), after which the old rector retired, other toasts followed, and many songs, and the fun became fast and furious. My neighbor on my right hand now was the undertaker of the nearest county town, who had a small holding in the manor, and who regaled me

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with various grim stories incident to his call ing in life. When I rose to go the undertaker insisted on walking with me to the railway station, where, as he told me he had to meet a corpse coming up from Bath, and he must not keep it waiting. Our conversation as we paced up and down the platform of the railway station waiting for the arrival of the train bearing his corpse up from Bath, left a vivid impres sion on my memory. I must try to repro duce it verbatim. "Well, sir, you did propose the lady's health, fine sir; could not have done it bet ter if you had been a hauctioneer selling the manor, sir." "Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Mould. Lady B. is certainly a very beautiful woman, and one could not but be touched by the sight of such beauty stricken down with so heavy a sorrow so early in life." "Sorrow—ahem—well you see sir, you're very young yet; but when you come to my years, and see all the ins and outs of life as I do, you will come to know that there are widows and widows. Lord, sir, there are some of them as thinks nothing of it, but just as to how they will look the first time they have to goto church in their new mourn ing. Not that I'd presume to say one word against Lady B. who paid for the funeral right down handsome, but she do seem to me a cool 'un." "Cool, what do you mean by cool, Mr. Mould? I own that her calm self-possession so soon after the sad event seemed to me marvellous, but I should hardly like to use the word 'cool.'" "Ah! sir, you're but a very young man yet, sir; now we as have to go into houses at times of bereavejnent, we gets to see be hind the scenes, like, and comes to know the world. Now, would you believe it, sir, I am quite prepared to bet you a pair of black kid gloves that by this day twelve months she'll not be Lady B. at all but Lady D. instead."