ticiary bodies,—my Lords, the Parliament House is Peebles's place of dwelling, says he-being commune forum, and commune forum est commune domicilium-Lass, fetch another glass of whisky, and score it-time to gae hame-by the practiques, I cannot find the jug—yet there's twa of them, I think. By the Regiam, Fairford-Daddie Fairford -lend us twal pennies to buy sneeshing, mine is done-Macer, call another cause.

The box fell from his hands, and his body would at the same time have fallen from the chair, had I not supported him.

"This is intolerable," said my father—“ Call a chairman, James Wilkinson, to carry this degraded, worthless, drunken beast home."

When Peter Peebles was removed from this memorable consultation, under the care of an ablebodied Celt, my father hastily bundled up the papers, as a showman, whose exhibition has miscarried, hastes to remove his booth. "Here are

my memoranda, Alan,” he said, in a hurried way; “look them carefully over-compare them with the processes, and turn it in your head before Tuesday. Many a good speech has been made for a beast of a client; and hark ye, lad, hark ye-I never intended to cheat you of your fee when all was done, though I would have liked to have heard the speech first; but there is nothing like corning the horse before the journey. Here are five goud guineas in a silk purse of your poor mother's netting, Alan-she would have been a blithe woman to have seen her

young son with a gown on his back-but no more of
that—be a good boy, and to the work like a tiger."

I did set to work, Darsie; for who could resist
such motives? With my father's assistance, I have
mastered the details, confused as they are; and on
Tuesday, I shall plead as well for Peter Peebles, as
I could for a duke. Indeed, I feel my head so clear
on the subject, as to be able to write this long letter
to you; into which, however, Peter and his law-
suit have insinuated themselves so far, as to show
you how much they at present occupy my thoughts.
Once more, be careful of yourself, and mindful of
me, who am ever thine, while

ALAN FAIRford.

From circumstances, to be hereafter mentioned, it was long ere this letter reached the person to whom it was addressed.

NOTE TO LETTER XIII.

Note, p. 227.-PETER PEEBLES.

This unfortunate litigant (for a person named Peter Peebles actually flourished) frequented the courts of justice in Scotland about the year 1792, and the sketch of his appearance is given from recollection. The author is of opinion that he himself had at one time the honour to be counsel for Peter Peebles, whose voluminous course of litigation served as a sort of assaypieces to most young men who were called to the bar. The scene of the consultation is entirely imaginary.

CHAPTER I.

NARRATIVE.

THE advantage of laying before the reader, in the words of the actors themselves, the adventures which we must otherwise have narrated in our own, has given great popularity to the publication of epistolary correspondence, as practised by various great authors, and by ourselves in the preceding chapters. Nevertheless, a genuine correspondence of this kind (and Heaven forbid it should be in any respect sophisticated by interpolations of our own!) can seldom be found to contain all in which it is necessary to instruct the reader for his full comprehension of the story. Also it must often happen that various prolixities and redundancies occur in the course of an interchange of letters, which must hang as a dead weight on the progress of the narrative. To avoid this dilemma, some biographers have used the letters of the personages concerned, or liberal extracts from them, to describe particular incidents, or express the sentiments which they entertained; while they connect them occasionally with such portions of narrative, as may serve to carry on the thread of the story.

It is thus that the adventurous travellers who

explore the summit of Mont Blanc, now move on through the crumbling snow-drift so slowly, that their progress is almost imperceptible, and anon abridge their journey by springing over the intervening chasms which cross their path, with the assistance of their pilgrim-staves. Or, to make a briefer simile, the course of story-telling which we have for the present adopted, resembles the original discipline of the dragoons, who were trained to serve either on foot or horseback, as the emergencies of the service required. With this explanation, we shall proceed to narrate some circumstances which Alan Fairford did not, and could not, write to his correspondent.

Our reader, we trust, has formed somewhat approaching to a distinct idea of the principal characters who have appeared before him during our narrative; but in case our good opinion of his sagacity has been exaggerated, and in order to satisfy such as are addicted to the laudable practice of skipping, (with whom we have at times a strong fellow-feeling,) the following particulars may not be superfluous.

Mr Saunders Fairford, as he was usually called, was a man of business of the old school, moderate in his charges, economical and even niggardly in his expenditure, strictly honest in conducting his own affairs, and those of his clients, but taught by long experience to be wary and suspicious in observing the motions of others. Punctual as the clock of Saint Giles tolled nine, the neat dapper form of the little hale old gentleman was seen at the thresh