"Well, sir," continued he, "but that was not the hull of the conversation. I was a'telling her about that ere young lawyer, the young feller that gave the advice for Josh Jones (I declare it makes me bile over while I think on it), and she listened quite attentif and took great consarn in it, and said she was sure I would get justice, as Mr. Lawson was an honest lawyer, (and between you and me, Mr. Agent, that's more'n can be said of most of 'em)." "You are rather severe on the legal profession, sir," ventured a voice from the other side of the room. Mr. Spriggins having confided his affairs, and seeing that business absorbed the attention of his audience, finally took leave, with the parting injunction to give him a call if they happened his way. It did, indeed, seem a strange coincidence that while Mr. Moses Spriggins drew Miss Marguerite's Verne's attention to his legal proceedings that Phillip Lawson should be turning over certain facts in his memory in order to elucidate some important problems as regards his relation to this fair being. Could he then have seen the respectful manner with which Marguerite greeted the son of toil, he would feel more deeply impressed with the beauty of her character, and could he have heard her modest eulogium upon himself, an emotional chord would have vibrated to the musical tones of her soft and well-modulated voice. But our young friend was not to be thus gratified. It is contrary to the laws which govern the order of the universe that an eternal fitness should adapt itself to our circumstances. Ah, no, my young dreamer, much as we would wish it otherwise, we must sit patiently and see you suffer much mental agony in trying to discipline your mind for the trying ordeal through which you must irrevocably pass. Nor did the sweet-faced Marguerite, as she chatted in her quiet happy way, for one moment dream that the brawny and muscular hand of Moses Spriggins should be yet held in friendly grasp, and that she would ever cherish this sturdy son of toil in grateful memory. Standing there on that uneventful morn with the rays of sunshine playing hide and seek through her silken hair, could she have looked beyond the surrounding of the present, and cast her eye along the dim and shadowy perspective, what sorrow might have been averted; what heart-throes might have been quieted! But let us not be carried away by such thoughts. Let us not seek to penetrate beyond the airy nothings of every-day life. Marguerite Verne went back into the presence of the other members of the family. She chatted, laughed and sang blithe as a bird carolling