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INDEX.

ADVENTURER, THE, 52, 95.

Bristol, 204.

Chapter on Floral Superstitions, 19.

Chess Exercises, 59, 125, 187, 251, 316, 377.

Courier to the East, The, 105,

Dark Lady, The, 370.

Dr. Oliver's Maid, by Silverpen, 148, 193, 257, 321. Failings of Friends, 374.

Glimpses of Great Britain in 1748, 43.

Harry Coverdale's Courtship, and all that came of it, 35, 113, 184, 241, 365.

Helps's History of Spanish Conquest in America, 221.

Impressions of New Orleans, by M. A. S., 285.
Literary Notes, 60, 127, 189, 252, 317, 378.
Lock Controversy, The, 31.

Lorimer Littlegood, Esq., a young Gentleman who

wished to see Life, and saw it accordingly, 1, 65, 129, 206, 276, 342.

Midnight Adventure on the North Cape of
Lapland, 170.

Minor Inventions and Improvements, 217.
My First and Last Turkey Hunt, 230.

Navarino, a Landmark of Modern European
History, 119

Newcomes, The, A Missing Chapter from, 167.
Our Little Line, 351.

Our Institution, 75.
POETRY:-

To a Lady I know, aged One, 313.
My Boyish Days, 314.

Queer World, A, 79.
School Studies, 311.

Schoolmaster, The, in China, by John Leaf, 12. Smith, Rev. Sidney, Life and Correspondence of, 84. Spanish Father's Justice, A, 305.

Stewpan, The, at Aldershott, 23.

Street Boys: The Contemplative Man's Irritation, 339.

Tea Table Talk, 142.

Two Mendicants of Valencia, 233.
Versified Irishman, The, 110.

Visit to the Granite City, A, 159.

Yachting Adventures beyond the Arctic Circle,

291.

Zouaves, The, 268.

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SHARPE'S

LONDON MAGAZINE.

LORIMER LITTLEGOOD, ESQ.,

A YOUNG GENTLEMAN WHO WISHED TO SEE LIFE, AND SAW IT ACCORDINGLY.

BY ALFRED W. COLE.

ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.

CHAPTER I.

WHEREIN OUR HERO MAKES HIS BOW AND COMES INTO HIS PROPERTY.

"AND all the rest, residue, and remainder of my real and personal estate, whatsoever and wheresoever, I give, devise, and bequeath unto my dear son, Lorimer, his heirs, executors, and administrators, for ever."

Such were the words which Mr. Bosher, attorney-at-law, read out with due solemnity in the little drawing-room of Verbena Cottage, near the well-known town of Muddleford, in the county of Surrey. Mr. Bosher always threw extraordinary emphasis into the reading of a will, especially when the document had been drawn by himself. When he announced a large legacy, the words were very slowly and distinctly drawn out, and a little tremulousness of the voice at the same time thrown in, to impress you with the deep respect he entertained for the benevolence of the departed. A bequest to himself produced a slight huskiness, and the necessity of pulling out a very white and voluminous pocket handkerchief to be applied to the corners of his eyes. The cutting off of any scapegrace or offending relation with a shilling, was delivered with thrilling severity of tone. provision for "my dear wife" brought forth a tenderness of utterance almost unprofessional; and the final wind-up of all "the rest and residue" came with a force and dignity of manner that nothing but long practice could have produced.

The

Mr. Bosher was a florid and stout gentleman with a bald head, which shone as bril

VOL. VII. N. S.

liantly as if carefully polished every morning with a furniture brush. He was always dressed in black, and on important occasions like the present he wore a white neckcloth several inches high, and swathed round his neck in a manner that seemed to threaten suffocation. Such watch-seals and keys as dangled from Mr. Bosher's fob are rarely seen in these degenerate days, which is to be lamented, seeing that they are wonderfully imposing.

In character, Mr. Bosher was unassailable. Everybody (that is, the everybody of Muddleford and its vicinity) knew him and trusted him. His private office was, from floor to roof, all round the four walls, crowded with japanned tin boxes holding clients' papers and title-deeds, and labelled "Jonathan Podgers, Esq.," "The Pumpkin Estates," "Tomkins's Trustees," &c., &c. Everybody-the everybody aforesaid left a legacy, large or small, to "My friend John Bosher, Esq., as a slight token of my esteem for him, and my appreciation of his professional services." Everybody employed Mr. Bosher as his attorney; Mr. Bosher knew everybody's affairs much better than everybody himself did, and Mr. Bosher kept his knowledge locked in his own breast as safely as his clients' papers were locked in the tin boxes.

Such was the gentleman who had just read the concluding sentences of the will of the late Mr. Littlegood, a mild quiet man who, having an independence, and being fond of botany and geology, fishing and floriculture, had retired to Verbena Cottage, near Muddleford, some three-and-twenty years previously, im

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mediately after his marriage. He had been dead a week when our tale opens, leaving a widow and two children-a daughter aged 19, and named Jessie; and a son just 21, who was christened Lorimer. Mr. Littlegood had first of all provided for his wife; then left £2,000 to his daughter; and the rest of his property to his son.

The widowed mother and her two children were the only persons present in the little drawing-room besides the attorney. Mr. Bosher had told them that no one else need attend; and of course Mr. Bosher knew all about it, for he had drawn the will himself, and kept it in one of the before-mentioned tin boxes, labelled "Thomas Littlegood, Esq.,' till death carried the testator off.

Gentleness seemed to be the prominent characteristic of Mrs. Littlegood, judging from her appearance. Facility of temper and a kind of bodily and mental inactivity, which is considered highly virtuous in people who are above the reach of want, made her a weak character. Energy was as foreign to her as courage to a hare; while anything absolutely wrong she knew nothing about except from hearsay. She was an amiable negative.

Mrs. Littlegood wept as the attorney concluded his task; wept placidly and gently, and yet sincerely.

"He was so good," she murmured.

"Excellent man, my dear madam," assented the attorney-"excellent man; a great consolation to know that."

Mrs. Littlegood sighed.

"He was the best of husbands and of fathers, and I hope," she continued, "Lorimer 'll be exactly like him."

Mr. Bosher always wished to assent to a proposition when he could; but whether in this instance he found it difficult to indulge in the hope expressed, or impossible to believe in its realization, it is not for us to deeide. Certain it is that he only cleared his throat and said, "Ahem!"

Lorimer Littlegood looked at Mr. Bosher, and then looked at his mother, and then looked at his sister, and lastly took a slight glance at the mantlepiece-glass. Apparently, Mr. Lorimer Littlegood was not quite certain whether he was expected to say anything, or whether he could decently tell such a fib as to join in the maternal hope. He had liked his father very much; few men had such an indulgent "governor;" he respected the old gentleman's goodness of heart, serenity of temper, and innocence of pursuits; but he did not exactly desire to give up his own

tastes for those of his departed parent; he did not wish to become what Sydney Smith calls a "kind of holy vegetable" any more than to exchange his own luxuriant curls and bright blue eyes for the scratch wig and silver-rimmed spectacles of his father.

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Mr. Lorimer will no doubt have all the steadiness and sobriety of character that we admired so much in his father," said the lawyer, to fill up the pause; though he felt anything but satisfied with himself for telling such an untruth; for Mr. Bosher entertained strong suspicions that Lorimer was likely to be the very reverse of his father in those important points. Considering that Lorimer had been once rusticated while at Oxford, and had usually spent five times his allowance, the lawyer may perhaps be pardoned for his suspicions.

Lorimer muttered something about "doing his best," but looked fidgetty; Mrs. Littlegood glanced fondly and trustfully at her son; the attorney again cleared his throat, and, swallowing the remains of a glass of sherry which he had been sipping, he proceeded to make his bow, shake each of the three inmates of the room by the hand, and take his departure from Verbena Cottage.

We have said something about Mrs. Littlegood and her son, but nothing about her daughter. And yet Jessie deserves a little description, though we feel some diffidence in attempting it; for Jessie Littlegood was not one of those every-day persons of whom you can say that they are pretty or plain, clever or stupid, amiable or ill-tempered. There were so many apparently conflicting elements in her character, that it required some power of analysis to determine their relative proportions and strike the balance between-not the good and evil, for of positive evil she had perhaps none-but of the truly loveable and the less amiable qualities. Pope, for whose opinions we have the highest respect, was nevertheless a bad judge (because a prejudiced one) of women, and never wrote so silly a line as

"Most women have no characters at all."

Our own experience and study of human nature teach us the very reverse-that there is more variety of character among women than in our own sex. But as we may be at variance on this point with some philosophers, and perhaps many of our readers, we will not attempt to enter into a disquisition on the subject. We may at least record the fact that Jessie was a girl of decidedly original

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