en: there, he considered the moments as precious
for work; here, they were only precious for enjoyment: there, he
governed them; here, he yielded to them. A shade of impatience might
be detected in his manner at chambers; nothing ruffled him at home.
And Mrs. Winter, accustomed as she had always been to see only the
sunny side of things, ministered admirably to the happiness of all
around her, and particularly of her husband. They and their eldest
daughter Emily, a blue-eyed girl with light hair, were in the
drawing-room, when Randolph and Helen arrived. Before dinner was
announced, the orphans had forgotten all their solicitude.

And except that they talked with rather too much preciseness, too much
like a book as people say, they acquitted themselves very well in the
gentle stream of conversation which their host kept tranquilly
flowing. And by the time that Mrs. Winter rose to retire, they felt
that they had been introduced to a new pleasure, that of agreeable
society.

"So, Mr. Morton," the lawyer then said, "you wish to prepare yourself
for our English forum: as honourable an arena as the Roman, although
our advocates do accept of fees. Are you acquainted with the mysteries
of initiation?"

Randolph referred to the old editions of Blackstone and Burn. Mr.
Winter apprehended, but did not say, that there might be something to
unlearn.

"Faith," said he, "the process has more to do with beef than with
Blackstone; you eat your way, rather than read it. True, the
sign-posts and mile-stones are not to be neglected, but you may arrive
at the full dignity of wig and gown, without having turned a leaf. I
don't say that is the way to turn a penny."

"It is with the last purpose that I aspire to the dignity," Randolph
said, "and very much obliged to you shall I be for any advice which
may further it."

"And happy I shall be to give the best I can, Mr. Morton," observed
Winter. "The first step is to enter at an Inn of Court. There are
four. Divers bits of doggerel describe their respective merits. Have
you any predilection?"

"No, Mr. Winter," Randolph answered, "none: I am ignorant of their
distinguishing peculiarities."

"Lincoln's Inn is the largest, Gray's the smallest of the societies,"
said Winter. "The Temples are intermediate. The Middle famous for its
fine hall, the Inner for its fine garden. No well-defined professional
advantages attaching to any one. It is a matter of whim. What say
you?"

"One of the