“The strawberry grows underneath the nettle; And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, Neighbour’d by fruit of baser quality.” _King Henry V._ There stood a very pretty pavilion in one of the groves of Rattletrap, overhanging the water, with the rock of the river-shore for its foundation. It had two small apartments, in one of which Dunscomb had caused a book-case, a table, a rocking-chair and a lounge to be placed. The other was furnished more like an ordinary summer-house, and was at all times accessible to the inmates of the family. The sanctum, or office, was kept locked; and here its owner often brought his papers, and passed whole days, during the warm months, when it is the usage to be out of town, in preparing his cases. To this spot, then, the counsellor now held his way, attended by Timms, having ordered a servant to bring a light and some segars; smoking being one of the regular occupations of the office. In a few minutes, each of the two men of the law had a segar in his mouth, and was seated at a little window that commanded a fine view of the Hudson, its fleet of sloops, steamers, tow-boats and colliers, and its high, rocky western shore, which has obtained the not inappropriate name of the Palisades. The segars, the glass, and the pleasant scenery, teeming as was the last with movement and life, appeared, for the moment, to drive from the minds of the two men of the law the business on which they had met. It was a proof of the effect of habit that a person like Dunscomb, who was really a good man, and one who loved his fellow-creatures, could just then forget that a human life was, in some measure, dependent on the decisions of this very interview, and permit his thoughts to wander from so important an interest. So it was, however; and the first topic that arose in this consultation had no reference whatever to Mary Monson or her approaching trial, though it soon led the colloquists round to her situation, as it might be without their intending it. “This is a charming retreat, ’Squire Dunscomb,” commenced Timms, settling himself with some method in a very commodious arm-chair; “and one that I should often frequent, did I own it.” “I hope you will live to be master of one quite as pleasant, Timms, some time or other. They tell me your practice, now, is one of the best in Duke’s; some two or three thousand a year, I dare say, if the truth were known.” “It’s as good as anybody’s on our circuit, unless you count the bigwigs from York. I won’t name the sum, even to as old a friend as yourself, ’Squire; for the man who lets the world peep into his purse, will soon find it footing him up, like a sum in arithmetic. You’ve gentlemen in town, however, who sometimes get more for a single case, than I can ’arn in a twelvemonth.”