aring through that well-known
archway which Morley was on the point of reaching. The gentleman
indeed was still in sight, descending the way, when Morley entered, who
observed him drop a letter. Morley hailed him, but in vain; and fearing
the stranger might disappear in one of the many inextricable courts, and
so lose his letter, he ran forward, picked up the paper, and then pushed
on to the person who dropped it, calling out so frequently that the
stranger at length began to suspect that he himself might be the object
of the salute, and stopped and looked round. Morley almost mechanically
glanced at the outside of the letter, the seal of which was broken,
and which was however addressed to a name that immediately fixed his
interest. The direction was to "Baptist Hatton, Esq., Inner Temple."

"This letter is I believe addressed to you, Sir," said Morley, looking
very intently upon the person to whom he spoke--a portly man and a
comely; florid, gentleman-like, but with as little of the expression
which Morley in imagination had associated with that Hatton over whom he
once pondered, as can easily be imagined.

"Sir, I am extremely obliged to you," said the strange gentleman; "the
letter belongs to me, though it is not addressed to me. I must have this
moment dropped it. My name, Sir, is Firebrace--Sir Vavasour Firebrace,
and this letter is addressed to a--a--not exactly my lawyer, but
a gentleman--a professional gentleman--whom I am in the habit of
frequently seeing; daily, I may say. He is employed in a great question
in which I am deeply interested. Sir, I am vastly obliged to you, and I
trust that you are satisfied."

"Oh I perfectly, Sir Vavasour;" and Morley bowed; and going in different
directions, they separated.

"Do you happen to know a lawyer by name Hatton in this Inn?" inquired
Morley of his friend the journalist, when, having transacted their
business, the occasion served.

"No lawyer of that name; but the famous Hatton lives here," was the
reply.

"The famous Hatton! And what is he famous for? You forget I am a
provincial."

"He has made more peers of the realm than our gracious Sovereign," said
the journalist. "And since the reform of parliament the only chance of
a tory becoming a peer is the favour of Baptist Hatton; though who he is
no one knows, and what he is no one can describe."

"You speak in conundrums," said Morley; "I wish I could guess them. Try
to adapt yourself to my somewhat simple