"Now, that forward little imp's name, Aubrey, is Putty," whispered the Attorney-General. "He was a glazier by trade; but just as he finished his apprenticeship, an uncle left him a few hundred pounds, with which--would you believe it?--nothing would suit him but decking himself in a wig and gown, and coming to the bar--ah, ha!--The fellow's creeping, however, into a little business, positively! They say he has a cousin who is one of the officers to the sheriff of Middlesex, and puts a good many little things in his way! He's my junior in an action of libel against a newspaper, for charging his father-in-law--a baker who supplies some workhouse with bread--with making it of only one-third flour, one-third rye, and the remainder _saw-dust_--ah, ha, ha!--I dared hardly look at the judges while I moved the Rule for a New Trial, for fear of laughing! This is the case in which we're going to have the consultation he spoke of--but here's Mr. Weasel's." They mounted a narrow, dingy-looking, well-worn staircase--and on the first floor, beheld "MR. WEASEL" painted over the door. On the Attorney-General's knocking, as soon as his clear silvery voice was heard asking for Mr. Weasel, and his dignified figure had been recognized by the clerk, who had one pen in his mouth, and another behind his ear--that humble functionary suddenly bent himself almost double three or four times; and with flustered obsequiousness assured the great man that Mr. Weasel was quite at liberty. The next moment the Attorney-General and Mr. Aubrey were introduced into Mr. Weasel's room--a small dusky apartment wretchedly furnished, the walls being lined with book-shelves, well filled--and the table at which he was writing, and a chair on each side of him, strewed with draft paper, which he was covering at a prodigious rate. He was, in fact, drawing a "Declaration" in an action for a _Breach of promise of Marriage_, (taking a hasty pinch of fiery Welsh snuff every three minutes;) and his task seemed to be rendered very difficult, by the strange conduct of the defendant--surely the most fickle of mankind--who, with an extraordinary inconsistency, not knowing his own mind for a day together, had promised to marry Miss M'Squint, the heart-broken plaintiff, _firstly_, within a reasonable time; _secondly_, on a given day; _thirdly_, on the defendant's return from the Continent; _fourthly_, on the death of his father, (both of which events were averred to have taken place;) _fifthly_, when the defendant should have cut his wise teeth, (which it was averred he had;) and lastly, on "_being requested_" by the lady--which it was averred she had done, and in the most precise and positive manner, that she had been _ready and willing, and then_ [what will the ladies say?] "_tendered and offered herself to marry the said defendant_," who had then wholly neglected and refused to do any such thing. One notable peculiarity of the case was, that all these promises had been made, and all these