"He is deserving of your sympathy," said Toney. "Look! he is now approaching her with the awe and timidity of a man about to converse with a goddess, such as we used to read of in the classic hexameters of Ovid or Virgil. _Oh, dea certa!_ It won't do, Tom! it won't do!" "What won't do?" "For a man to let a woman see that he is dead in love with her. 'What careth she for hearts when once possessed?' Not a fig, Tom! not a fig. Carry your love about you like a concealed weapon. Don't let her know anything about it until you pop the question. Pop it at her when she don't expect it, and she will fall into your arms as if she had received a pistol-shot,-- Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes, But not too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes, and, turning her back on you, as Imogen has done now on Harry Vincent, will walk off on the arm of some fellow like Sam Perch." "Sam Perch? Do you mean the tall youth with a freckled face and a head of hair so fiery red that it looks like a small edition of a burning bush? What a remarkable head!" "It is a celebrated head. There was once a lawsuit about that head, and I was counsel for the defendant." "A lawsuit about the young man's head?" "Yes, a very extraordinary forensic controversy, which attracted much attention, and in which I established my professional reputation by defeating my distinguished friend M. T. Pate, who appeared as the plaintiff's counsel." "Toney, do you pretend to tell me that anybody ever went to law about that fellow's head? How did such a suit originate?" "Why, you must know, Tom, that there is a curious tale attached to that young man's head." "So there is to the head of a Chinaman." "No punning on people's cocoanuts, Mr. Seddon! But hear the history of this very remarkable lawsuit. On a cold evening in December, Perch was in a certain house in Mapleton, making himself agreeable to some young ladies, when they commenced tittering to such a degree that he was at first highly flattered, supposing that their merriment was produced by his numerous attempts at witticisms. At length these demonstrations of mirth became uncontrollable, and Perch, glancing at a large mirror opposite, was suddenly struck dumb with confusion." "At the image of his handsome self?" "A mischief-loving young girl had taken her station behind him and was holding her hands over his red head, and rubbing them, as if she were enjoying the warmth of a blazing fire." "It would hardly be necessary to invoke the aid of imagination for that purpose. This room begins to feel hotter with that fellow's red head carried about in it like a brasier of live coals. But go on." "Perch was horrified at the revelations of the mirror. He rushed from the house in a fit of desperation." "To put his burning bush under a pump?"