constant advice to a consulting client. He seemed to look upon a tradesman as Columbus looked upon an egg: to make him stand the firmer, it was with Bricks indispensable that he should first be broken.

CHAPTER IV.

MEN, falling asleep in a conservatory, have been known to die an aromatic death-to sleep sweetly for ever. The constitution of some bodies must puzzle the physicians. Jack Runnymede, albeit visited by the nightmare, woke in perfect health in the office of Gregory Bricks. The genius loci had, it is true, spell-bound the brain of the sleeper. He had seen visions of drollery and terror-a strange, phantasmagoric jumble of the ludicrous and shocking. He had in slumber essayed the facilis descensus Averni-had had its mysteries arrayed before him; and that so vividly, that although he was really in the office of a lawyer, he could have taken his oath, he was in

"A place too caloric to mention."

Jack dreamt that he was in the Arcady of the infernal regions-and there, lying on a brimstone bank, his tail coiled like a sleeping adder, was

Beelzebub himself, piping as "he should never grow old." The devil puzzled Jack; for looking stedfastly at him, the dreamer saw in the infernal musician, now the likeness of one man and now of another. His face was perpetually changing to a resemblance of fifty people-and some of them most respectable inhabitants of earth-known to Runnymede. And now, would the devil look like Jack's first love, and now would he wrinkle the brown lips of his present landlady. And the music the devil played was, to the ears of Jack, not unlike a great deal of the music of this world. And what think you, was the devil's occupation? That of a shepherd: yea, as he piped, he kept his eye upon a flock of sheep. In five minutes, Jack was as familiar with the devil as though he had known him all his life. But, we have been told, that such is always the case with those determined upon his acquaintance. We give the fol-. lowing conversation from Jack's own lips.

"A good day to you, shepherd."

"A fair, bright day to you, my gentle swain." (When the devil is polite, what courtier can beat him?)

"Lord have mercy upon us!"-(the devil frowned)" what dog is that?" And Jack stared at the creature for the first time.

"Good Lex-good Lex," said the devil, patting the dog's head with a look of deep affection.

"The devil has a loveable nature to like you," thought Jack, staring at the dog. "Of what breed may he be?" ventured Jack to ask aloud.

"Lex is a bitch," said the devil gravely. "Do you want a little pup?" The appearance of the animal promised fecundity; but Jack paused. After a moment, again he asked-" What breed?"

"None in particular, but sometimes all,” replied the enigmatical devil. "Sometimes the pups of Lex begin as lap-dogs, pretty little spaniels-then they turn to mastiffs-then to lurchers-and then, and that's most common, they often end as bloodhounds. Will you have a little pup?" again asked the devil.

"I'll never keep a dog," said Jack, timidly rejecting the favour.

"Lex will eat any thing. Before now, her pups have devoured a whole mansion, and after that picked white the bones of their master. Will you

have a little pup?"

Jack shook his head, and resolutely answered, "no." The ingenuous praise of the shepherd was sufficient for Jack; and the bitch herself had a sinister look, quite worthy of her master's eulogium. Her hair was strong and coloured like rusty wire—