and at the end of his Ave Maryes he stopt at St. Michel's altar, where he layd hold of the Divill, under St. Michel's feet, and cryd out, this is our Saint; let him be our Patron. So being unblindfolded, and seeing what a Patron he had chosen, he went to his lodgings so dejected, that in a few months after he dyed, and coming to heaven's gates, knockt hard. Whereupon St. Peter asked who it was that knockt so bouldly. He replied that he was St. Evona the advocate. Away, away, said St. Peter; here is but one Advocate in heaven; here is no room for you lawyers. O but, said St. Evona, I am that honest lawyer who never tooke fees on both sides, or pleaded in a bad cause; nor did I ever set my naibours together by the eares, or lived by the sins of the people. Well, then, said St. Peter, come in. This newes coming down to Rome, a witty poet writ on St. Evona's tomb these words:

'St. Evona, un Briton,
Advocat non Larron,
Haleluiah.'

ST. PETER v. A LAWYER.

The following lines are printed on a sheet of foolscap; and at the head is a cut representing St. Peter opening the gates of heaven to a lawyer demanding an entrance, but whom the saint, on recognizing his profession, refuses to admit. There is no date or author's name:

"Professions will abuse each other;

The priest won't call the lawyer brother;
While Salkeld still beknaves the parson,
And says he cants to keep the farce on.

Yet will I readily suppose

They are not truly bitter foes,

But only have their pleasant jokes,
And banter, just like other folks.
As thus, for so they quiz the Law,
Once on a time, the attorney, Flaw,
A man, to tell you as the fact is,

Of vast chicane, of course, of practice,
(But what profession can we trace
Where some will not the corps disgrace?
Seduc'd, perhaps, by roguish client,
Who tempts him to become more pliant),
A notice had to quit the world,

And from his desk at length was hurl'd.
Observe, I pray, the plain narration:
'Twas in a hot and long vacation,
When time he had, but no assistance,

Though great from courts of law the distance,
To reach the court of truth and justice
(Where, I confess, my only trust is);
Though here below the learned pleader
Shows talents worthy of a leader,
Yet his own fame he must support,
Be sometimes witty with the court,
Or work the passions of a jury
By tender strains, or full of fury,
Mislead them all, tho' twelve apostles:
While with new law the judge he jostles,
And makes them all give up their pow'rs
To speeches of at least three hours.
But we have left our little man,
And wander'd from our purpos'd plan:
'Tis said (without ill-natured leaven),
If lawyers ever get to heaven,
It surely is by slow degrees

(Perhaps 'tis slow they take their fees),

The case, then, now I'll fairly state:
Flaw reach'd at last to heaven's high gate;
Quite spent, he rapp'd, none did it neater.
The gate was open'd by St. Peter,
Who look'd astonish'd when he saw,
All black, the little man of law:
But Charity was Peter's guide;
For having once himself denied
His Master, he would not o'erpass
The penitent of any class:
Yet having never heard there enter'd
A lawyer, nay, nor one that ventur'd
Within the realms of peace and love,
He told him, mildly, to remove,

And would have clos'd the gate of day,
Had not old Flaw, in suppliant way,
Demurring to so hard a fate,

Begg'd but a look, tho' through the gate.
St. Peter, rather off his guard,
Unwilling to be thought too hard,
Opens the gate to let him peep in.
What did the lawyer? Did he creep in?
Or dash at once to take possession?
Oh, no! he knew his own profession:
He took his hat off with respect,
And would no gentle means neglect,
But finding it was all in vain

For him admittance to obtain,
Thought it were best, let come what will,
To gain an entry by his skill.

So while St. Peter stood aside
To let the door be open'd wide,

He skimm'd his hat with all his strength
Within the gates to no small length:
St. Peter star'd; the lawyer asked him,
'Only to fetch his hat,' and pass'd him:

But when he reach'd the jack he'd thrown,
Oh! then was all the lawyer shown;

He clapp'd it on, and arms a-kembo

(As if he'd been the gallant Bembo),
Cry'd out, 'What think you of my plan?
Eject me, Peter, if you can.

"THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK"

is the title of a little volume, published anonymously in London in 1831, with illustrations by Cruikshank. The story is of two young men, English and French respectively, who, having run through their fortunes by dissipation, enter severally into a contract with the Devil, by which they are to have an unlimited supply of money on demand, provided they would sin one second the first year, two seconds the next, double that the third, and so on during life. All the sins committed before and after, over and above the stipulated amount, were to be taken into account. "So that you see," said Lucifer, “not even a hermit need live more immaculately." The scene is laid in the time of the French Revolution. The Englishman, ignorant of the Frenchman's compact, accidentally falls in with his confrère in iniquity; and on discovering the similarity of their circumstances, they are as naturally bound together as Dr. Rappaccini's daughter and the young medical student, in Hawthorne's fascinating tale (which see). A jolly time they have for twentyeight years, when the Devil reminds them that they are in arrears; and it becomes apparent on calculation, that in order to transact the stipulated amount of wickedness for that year, it would require, reckoning sixteen hours to the day, some twenty-three hundred and thirty days.

Looking ahead one or two years added to their perplexity. Right here the Englishman called into requisition the services of old Bagsby, a lawyer, who, after proposing a compromise which the G. in B was not inclined to accept, threatened to throw the business into chancery. "Into where?' cried the gentleman in black, starting upon his legs, upsetting his black snuff-box and blackguard, letting fall his black smelling-bottle, oversetting his black bag, and disarranging his black-edged papers; while his black hair stood erect upon his head, and his black Geneva cloak swelled out rigidly behind, as though thrust forth and supported by a mop-stick. 'Into chancery,' repeated old Bagsby gravely: 'Mr. Ledger will pay the money into court.'-'From whence it will never come out in my time,' roared the gentleman in black, like a lion taken in the toils. 'No, no: I accept the merchant's offer.'" Cruikshank's illustration of this scene is very amusing.

Perhaps if the Devil (or the author) had known how strongly courts have always leaned toward the enforcement of contracts similar to the one in question, he would have had less horror of chancery. There is the great leading case of James v. Morgan, Levinz, 111, which was an action in special assumpsit, on an agreement to pay for a horse a barleycorn for the first nail in his shoes, and double every other nail, which, as there were thirtytwo nails, amounted to five hundred quarters of barley: under the instructions of the court the jury gave as damages the full value of the horse, eight pounds; and it is inferred that the contract was considered valid, from the fact, that on a motion in arrest of judgment, the verdict was affirmed. I know Mr. Story, in his work on Con