THE LOVES OF A CHANCERY LAWYER.

MR. SELWYN BOWLBY was an elderly barrister in good practice. He had a house in Bloomsbury Square, and chambers in Stone Buildings, Lincoln's Inn. By dint of industry, perseverance, and a tolerable share of impudence, he had worked his way from nothing into a considerable practice in the Rolls' Court. Secure of the future, so far as fortune was concerned, he thought it high time to try if he could not enjoy the present a little more than he had hitherto done; and conceiving the fresh sea air would be beneficial to his constitution, Mr. Selwyn Bowlby removed his household gods from Bloomsbury Square for a season, and set them up at Brighton, where having taken a mansion he determined to disport himself during the long vacation.

The season of repose, which annually released Mr. Bowlby from the more active discharge of his professional duties, was not always so welcome to him as to many of his learned brethren, for, unincumbered by wife or children, and arrived at a period of life when lighter pleasures cease to charm, he did not well know in what manner to dispose of his unenvied leisure, and never perhaps had he felt time hang more heavily upon his hands than during the first few weeks of his residence in his marine abode. In all his life before he had seldom been out of London for any period longer than a week at the utmost. He missed his monotonous occupations, his mornings in the Rolls, his lounge to his club in the afternoon, and, above all, the gossip of his old professional associates. In his solitary walks by the sea-shore, up the Cliff and down it again, he felt like a fish out of water, as in point of fact he was. But there is in the air of Brighton a certain something which is admirably adapted to cast out blue devils. In season or out of season, the place has decidedly a joyous aspect. It is pleasant to saunter idly along the Esplanade, although one's reveries are liable to be occasionally disturbed by tarry gentlemen, odorous of bad tobacco, who will observe that the morning would answer well for a sail; and the visitor is rather shocked at first by the graceful abandon and total absence of all prudery, which characterise the frequenters of the bathing-place, where Triton and Nereid float side by side unabashed by the proximity of each other, or by the operaglasses, which, for the better observation of their aquatic gambols, are levelled at them from the crowded shore. Notwithstanding these little désagrémens, the place is charming, it gives one such a tremendous appetite, and has many other things to recommend it, which I cannot stay to

enumerate.

"I find the sea-air suits me admirably," soliloquized Mr. Selwyn Bowlby, as he swallowed his third cup of tea, and cast a glance at the breakfast-table, late so trimly spread, which his ravages had converted into a desert. "But then it seems deuced solitary since I've come down, I have not seen a face-" The lawyer's matin reverie was cut short by the sharp rat-tat at the door of the postman; and he forthwith proceeded by the aid of a double gold eye-glass to investigate the correspondence, which, ranged in due order upon a salver, his domestic had brought into the room and placed upon the table before him.

While Mr. Bowlby is reading his letters I may as well describe him,

VOL. XXXII.

not that it is in the least worth while, but my fair readers may wish to know something of the external appearance of a gentleman who was destined ere long (I use of course a metaphorical expression) to play the devil with so many individuals of their enchanting sex.

My hero was not what is commonly called a handsome man, his appearance was far from prepossessing, with a skin very much resembling parchment in its texture and hue, a mouth not unlike a certain Lord Chancellor's, and a nose of the order denominated snub; he would have been as ugly as John Wilkes himself but for his eyes, which sparkled with a mixture of shrewdness and vivacity under a tolerably capacious brow, the crown whereof was completely bald. His figure was rather stooped; he wore Wellington boots much too large for him, and was always attired carefully in raiment of shining black. He shuffled as he walked, and showed all his teeth as he smiled, and voilà, Mr. Selwyn Bowlby.

Whatever may be the reason, the fair sex at Brighton are in a decided majority; the presence of a cavalry regiment in the neighbourhood may have something to do with it-I cannot say. There are children, too, in immense quantities, as well as ladies but, odd enough, the greater proportion of the latter are elderly and unmarried. The sensation which was caused among the ladies of the Queen of Navarre, by the sudden advent at court of a pair of whiskers, can scarcely have exceeded the agitation produced by the appearance of a strange gentleman at Brighton. Those only who have suffered from the lamentable dearth of "desirables" at such places, can appreciate the sensation excited by the advent of a "new man."

Affectionate mothers who in public never can bring themselves to endure the idea of parting with the dear girls, but who are yet quite willing to foist them upon any one who will take them off their hands in private, and, from behind the muslin of their window-curtains, look upon the new arrival as a species of providential interposition in their favour, and proceed immediately to make such arrangements for the appropriation of the prize, as the position and exigencies of their families demand. Meanwhile, the "arrival" walks forth in profound unconsciousness of the machinations of which he is the object. Such moments as these, could he only enjoy the consciousness of his triumph, are perhaps the proudest in a single gentleman's whole life. It is at such a time he appears to the most advantage; his merits are indisputable. Nor does a malicious whisper disturb the serenity of his repose, save perhaps the anathema of Mrs. Brown levelled at the head of the matron Jones, her neighbour, for making what she calls indelicate advances to the stranger.

The appearance, therefore, of Mr. Selwyn Bowlby had not been unnoticed; managing matrons peeped at him from behind the curtains as he lounged along the King's Road; spinsters cast admiring glances upon him; and the five tall Miss Rockets, with that exemplary but keen old Scotch gentlewoman, their mother, debated in full family conclave how they should manage to inveigle the unwary stranger into their drawing-room in Regency Square, for it had somehow reached them that the man of law was well to do in the world, that he had determined to make Brighton his head-quarters for a time, so the five tall Miss Rockets thought they might easily secure the prize before it became an object of public competition.

Alas, there were other young women at that time quite as keenly alive to the advantages of a comfortable worldly position as the fine Miss Rockets.

Is he not a very gentlemanly-looking person ?" was the remark of Miss Julia Withermay to her friend and confidant, Miss Pybus, as those two young ladies passed near Mr. Selwyn Bowlby, who, with his hands crossed behind him, was enjoying his matutinal ramble by the seashore.

"Who do you mean, dear? not that elderly gentleman in the white tie, with the brown umbrella."

"Yes, but don't call him old; he is anything but that,” replied Miss Julia, in a deprecating tone.

"Why, he's fifty if he's a day; his whiskers are grey, and the end of his nose is red-he's a regular Guy, I do declare!" responded Miss Pybus, who was a young lady of a lively temperament, with a turn for satire.

"He has got three thousand a year, a house in town, drives his carriage, and wants a wife."

"How did you find all that out in so short a time, you dear, sentimental, lack-a-daisical creature; who'd have thought of you taking any interest in such matters?" replied Miss Pybus, tossing her head.

It would unquestionably have been much more prudent, if the sedate Miss Withermay had kept to herself the information thus incautiously imparted, for no sooner did Miss Pybus-who, under a brusque off-hand manner, had a keen eye to business-reach home, than she proceeded to acquaint her mother with what she had heard, adding her assured conviction that the artful Julia had a furtive design against the heart and liberty of the unsuspicious stranger, which it would be a charity to frustrate, "as if an old thing like her had any chance of being married. Why a husband would frighten her out of her senses, she's so nervous," Miss Pybus said, throwing a glance at the mirror, which reflected a not uncomely set of features.

The result of this conversation, as well as of one somewhat similar which had taken place nearly about the same time between Miss Withermay and her august parent, was, that among the letters which we left the lawyer about to inspect, there were two tiny oblong notes, written, with the privity and consent of her respective mamma, by each of the young ladies, in which the company of Mr. Selwyn Bowlby was requested at a small party in the course of the ensuing week.

It was fortunate that the invitations were for different days, or Mr. Bowlby could not have accepted them both, as he did without the least hesitation, congratulating himself the while upon so unexpected a relief to the monotonous routine of his maritime existence.

"Who shall I enounce, sir?" said a page in a green suit eruptive with buttons, receiving the lawyer's hat, and preceding him to the drawingroom door. And Mr. Selwyn Bowlby, having given his name, found himself without further ceremony in the presence of his kind hostess and her graceful, accomplished daughter.

I have used the above epithets advisedly; to have called my heroine lovely, would have been a mistake, she was nothing of the kind; of mature age and a delicate constitution. Miss Withermay was a frailI meant to have said a fragile-creature, devoted to the elegant pursuits

of literature and the fine arts, but not averse to matrimony, provided an eligible opportunity for entering into that condition should present itself; pretensions to beauty she had none whatever, indeed Mr.Selwyn Bowlby, as he threw a glance over the company, thought he had seldom seen assembled in one apartment, so many elderly females of an unprepossess ing exterior (for Julia was by far too wily a tactician to invite any one she considered dangerous), but like a man of sense, as he was, he determined to make the most of it, and enjoy himself as much as it was possible under circumstances apparently so disadvantageous.

I shall not stay to describe the platitudes of a small early-party; which of my readers has not at some period of his existence experienced them? Tea was handed round; Miss Withermay discussed æsthetics with Mr. Selwyn Bowlby as he partook of that refreshment, and talked about Tennyson's poetry, which she understood as much as the distinguished author himself, until it was time to separate, and the lawyer took his leave rather bored than otherwise, although he was too much a man of the world to evince aught but satisfaction at the evening's entertain

ment.

Miss Withermay went to bed under the impression she had made a conquest; she dreamed of orange-flowers, lace veils, and mansions in Bloomsbury Square. Peace to her virgin slumbers!

When the evening arrived, upon which Mr. Bowlby was to participate in the Pybus hospitality, a different scene awaited him. Miss Pybus was a dashing person, verging towards forty. She had had no end of offers; but she set too high a value upon her charms to let them go for nothing; and as no adorer had hitherto been able to satisfy the requirements of Captain Pybus, her father, in regard of settlement, one after another they were dismissed, and she was in the market still ready for anything good that might turn up. Miss Pybus, being what is called a fast young lady, was fond of the society of military men, so that when Mr. Selwyn Bowlby made his entré, he found the drawing-room filled with dragoons. There were none but married ladies present; Miss Pybus had the game altogether in her own hands, and it would have done your heart good, fair reader, to see how dextrously she played it. The tendency of cavalry officers to flirtation is proverbial; their aversion to matrimony is well known. Miss Pybus liked to be flirted with, but she was most anxious to be married, so she threw over Captain Jenkenson, a handsome warrior, six feet high, paid not the slightest attention to his conversation, and monopolized Mr. Selwyn Bowlby, who, poor man, felt himself intensely flattered by a preference so obvious, and thought he had never met with a creature more bewitching than Miss Pybus.

Thus introduced into society, Mr. Bowlby found his time no longer hang heavily on hand. He was frequently present at the æsthetic teas of the demure Miss Withermay, and he was more frequently still a participator in the less intellectual and refined festivities, whereof the lively Miss Pybus was the dispenser.

Happy Mr. Selwyn Bowlby! Was ever chancery lawyer more suddenly in request. Like Lord Byron, he had wakened to find himself famous. So dextrously and with such true feminine tact had the rival belles contrived their proceedings that neither had the most remote idea of the game played by the other. Each thought herself secure of the prize.

"Susan," said Captain Pybus to his daughter one morning at break

fast, "suppose we get up a little picnic party to the Dyke, and ask the Withermays and-"

"Good gracious, papa, you surely are not serious; such weather as this-"

"Never saw finer in all my life," the captain said.

"With such an east wind? why, you'll get your death of rheumatism."

"How careful the gipsy is of her father," thought the old gentleman, as he munched his toast in silence.

"I think our new acquaintance is getting rather particular in his attentions, eh, Julia, my dear?" said Mrs. Withermay.

The fair Julia looked up from her favourite Tennyson, with a look of pleased surprise.

"I'm sure I don't know, mamma; he seems a most agreeable, gentlemanly man.”

"I hope you intend to accept him, Julia; from all I hear the match would be a most advantageous one, and you seem to have the field all to yourself."

"I shall refer him to you, mamma, as a matter of course," was the sage reply.

"He has never said anything to you, my dear, which would lead you to suppose he meditated a proposal, has he, Julia ?"

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Why, no, not exactly. But his looks are eloquent, and I think I heard him sigh twice as he drank his fifth cup of tea last night."

"Well, take care you don't let him slip through your fingers as that great Captain O'Ryan did, who dangled after you so long."

Miss Withermay, uttering a plaintive sigh at this touching recollection, resumed her perusal of " Locksley Hall."

Now there chanced at this period to be resident at Brighton a certain rich merchant, whose name was Podder. This gentleman had a handsome house in Sussex Square, where he resided with his sister, a lady of mature age and fading charms; but who, like the five Miss Rockets, Miss Withermay, and her rival, had no objection whatever to enter upon the holy state of matrimony, provided a favourable opportunity should present itself. Mr. Podder had a brother in London, an eminent solicitor in extensive business, and he, coming down one day to Brighton, in order to consult the chancery barrister, whose client he was, dined, as a matter of course, at the fraternal residence in Sussex Square.

Thus it came to pass that, after the lapse of not many days, Mr. Selwyn Bowlby found himself a cherished guest, with his legs under the Podder mahogany, and by his side a lady, who, although by no means so good looking as his fair friend, Miss Pybus, yet was not surpassed by that young lady in the little delicate attentions which none know how to pay so dextrously as a woman, especially when she has arrived at years of discretion, and thinks of now or never."

Mr. Podder, though an estimable man, was not showy. He would never have been selected by the ladies' patronesses at Almack's to make one in a fancy quadrille'; he was short and stout, with a shiny bald head, little pig-eyes, and a broad nose with nostrils like a pointer. His clothes looked as if they had been put on him by the aid of a pitchfork. His coat was black and roomy, with capacious pockets in the rear, into which, when on Change, it was his custom to thrust his hands. His inexpressibles were very much too short, and his shoes greatly too large for him.