y drew." Cannot an artist be found to place upon canvas this scene,
which furnishes the student of human nature with an instructive instance
of

"That combination strange--a lawyer and a blush?"

For some days Thurlow's embarrassment and chagrim were very painful. But
a change in the state of the king's health caused a renewal of the
lawyer's attachment to Tory principles and to his sovereign.

The lawyers of what may be termed the cocked hat period seldom
maintained the happy mean between too little and too great care for
personal appearance. For the most part they were either slovenly or
foppish. From the days when as a student he used to slip into Nando's in
a costume that raised the supercilious astonishment of his
contemporaries, Thurlow to the last erred on the side of neglect. Camden
roused the satire of an earlier generation by the miserable condition of
the tiewig which he wore on the bench of Chancery, and by an undignified
and provoking habit of "gartering up his stockings while counsel were
the most strenuous in their eloquence." On the other hand Joseph
Yates--the puisne judge whom Mansfield's jeers and merciless oppressions
drove from the King's Bench to the Common Pleas, where he died within
four months of his retreat--was the finest of fine gentlemen. Before he
had demonstrated his professional capacity, the habitual costliness and
delicacy of his attire roused the distrust of attorneys, and on more
than one occasion wrought him injury. An awkward, crusty, hard-featured
attorney entered the foppish barrister's chambers with a bundle of
papers, and on seeing the young man in a superb and elaborate evening
dress, is said to have inquired, "Can you say, sir, when Mr. Yates will
return?" "Return, my good sir!" answered the barrister, with an air of
surprise, "I am Mr. Yates, and it will give me the greatest pleasure to
talk with you about those papers." Having taken a deliberate survey of
the young Templar, and made a mental inventory of all the fantastic
articles of his apparel, the honest attorney gave an ominous grunt,
replaced the papers in one of the deep pockets of his long-skirted coat,
twice nodded his head with contemptuous significance, and then, without
another word--walked out of the room. It was his first visit to those
chambers, and his last. Joseph Yates lost his client, before he could
even learn his name; but in no way influenced by the occurrence he
maintained his reputation for faultl