“A leddy!”—said the dyer, staring at me with his rainbow countenance. "Mr Alan, what takes you out, rinning like daft, without your hat ?"

"The devil take my hat !" answered I, running back, however, in quest of it; snatched it up, and again sallied forth. But as I reached the head of the close once more, I had sense enough to recollect that all pursuit would be now in vain. Besides, I saw my friend, the journeyman dyer, in close confabulation with a pea-green personage of his own profession, and was conscious, like Scrub, that they talked of me, because they laughed consumedly. I had no mind, by a second sudden appearance, to confirm the report that Advocate Fairford was 66 gaen daft," which had probably spread from Campbell's close-foot to the Mealmarket Stairs; and so slunk back within my own hole again.

My first employment was to remove all traces of that elegant and fanciful disposition of my effects, from which I had hoped for so much credit; for I was now ashamed and angry at having thought an instant about the mode of re

ceiving a visit which had commenced so agreeably, but terminated in a manner so unsatisfactory. I put my folios in their places-threw the foils into the dressing-closet-tormenting myself all the while with the fruitless doubt, whether I had missed an opportunity or escaped a stratagem, or whether the young person had been really startled, as she seemed to intimate, by the extreme youth of her intended legal adviser. The mirror was not unnaturally called in to aid ; and that cabinet-counsellor pronounced me rather short, thick-set, with a cast of features fitter, I trust, for the bar than the ball-not handsome enough for blushing virgins to pine for my sake, or even to invent sham cases to bring them to my chambers—yet not ugly enough either to scare those away. who came on real business-dark, to be sure, but-nigri sunt hyacinthi—there are pretty things to be said in favour of that complexion.

At length--as common sense will get the better in all cases, when a man will but give it fair play-I began to stand convicted in my own mind, as an ass before the interview, for having expect

for

ed too much-an ass during the interview, having failed to extract the lady's real purposeand an especial ass, now that it was over, for thinking so much about it. But I can think of nothing else, and therefore I am determined to think of this to some good purpose.

You remember Murtough O'Hara's defence of the Catholic doctrine of confession; because, " by his soul, his sins were always a great burthen to his mind, till he had told them to the priest; and once confessed, he never thought more about them." I have tried his receipt, therefore; and having poured my secret mortification into thy trusty ear, I will think no more about this maid of the mist,

Who, with no face, as 'twere, outfaced me.

four o clock.

Plague on her green mantle, she can be nothing better than a fairy; she keeps possession of my head yet! All during dinner time I was terribly absent; but, luckily, my father gave the whole credit of my reverie to the abstract nature

of the doctrine, Vinco vincentem, ergo vinco te; upon which brocard of law the Professor this morning lectured. So I got an early dismissal to my own crib, and here am I studying, in one sense, vincere vincentem, to get the better of the silly passion of curiosity-I think—I think it amounts to nothing else-which has taken such possession of my imagination, and is perpetually worrying me with the question-will she write or no? She will not-she will not! So says Reason, and adds, Why should she take the trouble to enter into correspondence with one, who, instead of a bold, alert, prompt gallant, proved a chicken-hearted boy, and left her the whole awkwardness of explanation, which he should have met half-way? But then, says Fancy, she will write, for she was not a bit that sort of person whom you, Mr Reason, in your wisdom, take her to be. She was disconcerted enough, without my adding to her distress by any impudent conduct on my part. And she will write, for By Heaven, she HAS written, Darsie, and with a vengeance !-Here is her letter, thrown into the kitchen by a cadie, too faithful to be

bribed, either by money or whiskey, to say more than that he received it, with sixpence, from an ordinary-looking woman, as he was plying on his station near the Cross.

"FOR ALAN FAIRFORD, ESQUIRE, BARRISTER.

“SIR,

"Excuse my mistake of to-day. I had accidentally learned that Mr Darsie Latimer had an intimate friend and associate in a Mr A. Fairford. When I inquired for such a person, he was pointed out to me at the Cross, (as, I think, the Exchange of your city is called,) in the character of a respectable elderly man-your father, as I now understand. On inquiry at Brown's Square, where I understood he resided, I used the full name of Alan, which naturally occasioned you the trouble of this day's visit. Upon further inquiry, I am led to believe that you will be the person most active in the matter to which I am now about to direct your attention; and I regret much that circumstances, arising out of my