"P'raps you're a hextra clever man?"

"I hope so; it's my business to be clever."

"P'raps you know more nor there is to know?"

"Oh no, no!" laughed the lawyer, as though much tickled with Mr Finney's humour; "but I assure you we know nothing that isn't to your credit."

"Don't you, now?"

"No, indeed, we don't. You've had your misfortunes, of course." "Of coorse, of coorse.'

"But you've got over them all." "There's no more a-comin', then, I s'pose?"

"My dear sir, let us be serious; I am here as a lawyer."

"That's one misfortin I aint got over, then."

"Ah! Mr Finney, I see you're an incorrigible joker, like all you dramatic gentlemen. Will you answer an honest man a plain question, joking apart, now ?"

I

Finney took a pull at his beer, and replied, "Oos a-jokin'? aint, nor this 'ere gent, as I knows on, and I'm not aweer as you've said nuffink hextray comic. I aint larfed, as I knows on. 'Oos a jokin'?"

"Will you answer a question, then ?"

I

"I aint on my hoath, I s'pose?" Certainly not; it's a private question-all among friends. only want to see if you can tell me something I know all about already," said the lawyer, rather out diplomatising himself.

"Ah! I see-it's a k'nundrum; but I give it up-never could make nuffink of them."

The lawyer looked at me in despair.

"I think you had better ask the question straightforwardly," I said; "there is no reason why Mr Finney should object to answer it."

Mr Finney looked perfectly wooden and placid, and browsed away at his bread and cheese.

"Well, then, straightforwardly,

"You don't know ?"

"I don't know, and I don't bruise my hoats, and I aint a-goin' to Rosherville, and I don't know who's Griffiths, and, wot's more, I don't care; and now, please to tell me wot all this 'ere lark is? Wot are you comin' a-nigglin' and anagglin' at me for, and disturbin' me at my wittles? 'Oo are you, you white-faced cuss?" The manner was as calm as ever, though the words were strong. "I aint a-goin' to sit hargle-barglin' with you all night; my time's hup-it is. 'Oo are you?"-and he rose.

"My good sir, in the cause of law and justice and humanity, answer me a question. I'm a lawyer -Mr Wilkin, of Saville Row. I'm employed in a matrimonial cause. A person is suspected of having committed bigamy; I believe the proof lies with you. Were you

married in 1853 to a woman known by the name of Carlotta Seymour?"

The man's face blazed into sudden animation. "Married to her? Yes, I was married to her, the thief the villain!" and he went on to apply to his spouse a string of epithets of more force than refinement. "And she's committed biggermee, has she? "Taint a 'angin' bus'ness, I believe-more's the pity. I'd go a 'undred mile on a donkey to see her 'ung."

"No, it's not a hanging business; but you were married to her, and could identify her, could you?"

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Couldn't I, and wouldn't I? But wot will you do to her?something hextra salt, eh?"

"Oh yes! of course; but our main object, in the first place, is to free a gentleman from his marriage

with her; and, by the by, this will enable you to get a divorce, and marry again. You must marry an heiress this time, Mr Finney, eh? Ha! ha!"

"Thankin' you graciously, Tom Finney's billycock covers T. F.'s family and k'neckshuns for the fewchure."

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Could you come and assist us to identify her to-morrow?"

"Come? Slippy. I'm your man, hanny time and hannyware."

"To-morrow at twelve. Will you come to the Grosvenor Hotel?" "See if I don't. But why 'n thunder, Mr Lawyer, coodn't you hout with this at fust, instead of hagitatin' a feller at his wittles? I thought you was a depitation from John Bright or the People's William to get me to make a speech in the Squeer. But I'll come; see if I don't."

"Eureka!" cried the lawyer, as we left Mr Finney's door-" eureka! the case is virtually complete, and Captain Burridge is a free man. The identification is a certainty, of course, and I only go on with it to satisfy Captain Burridge's mind, and enable him to make his arrangements in advance of the legal formalities that may be necessary. I shall be at the hotel before noon to-morrow, and will bring the lady's address. Then we can go and visit her in a body, and give her an opportunity of comparing the merits of her two husbands -ha! ha!"

"Adolphus, my boy, you're free!" I said, on entering the room, where I found my friend, now fairly done up with anxiety and excitement, lying prostrate on a sofa. He stared at me in a confused way, as if he had been sleeping.

"What d'ye mean? You've not really found the husband?" "Really found him.”

"And he admits the marriage?" "Of course he does, and will go with us to-morrow and identify the woman; you're free!"

Burridge rose slowly. "Donald,"

he gasped, "I-bless you-you're my good ang- Holloa! what's this? It's dark-I'm choking; and down he fell with a bang on the floor, senseless and motionless, in a dead faint.

Now, here was a fellow I had once looked upon as a mere 66 natusconsumere-fruges," - incapable of emotion, good-natured from laziness, born blaze, né fatigué". here was this large physical man conducting himself in the most appropriately sensational way, disclosing nerves, feelings, affections, and a power of becoming unconscious at the fitting crisis, that would have delighted a dramatic artist. I had, indeed, fathomed Adolphus before, but this last, this fainting phase, brought painfully to my mind the sufferings the simple patient fellow had undergone, not unmingled with a thrill of admiration for the manly Anglo-Saxon nature disdaining to hoist a flag of distress to the world, and only betraying, when relief arrived, how stern had been the ordeal passed through.

He soon came to himself. "I say, Donald, what the deuce do you go knocking a fellow about for?" was his first question on opening his eyes. "A joke's a

joke, but eh? Why? Oh yes! I remember now-ah!--" and with a long gasp of relief he closed his eyes and lay back again. I did not disturb him.

It was a happy evening for both of us, though little was said on either side.

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Adolphus sat plunged in meditation, but every now and then a ray of joy like a sunbeam flashed across his face, and he would rise and grasp my hand, and "God-bless" me, not so much for my own sake, old fellow," he would say "not so much for myself as for her. A man is stronger he goes about the world, and has distractions; but a woman —what has a woman got to do but brood over her troubles? Poor Mary! what lines she's had! God bless you, Donald, for her!"