His first case was, "Jane Smith _versus_ James Smith" (no relations). His
client was the female. She had been violently assaulted. He mistook the
initial--pleaded warmly for the opposing Smith, and glowingly described the
disgraceful conduct of the veriest virago a legal adviser ever had the pain
of speaking of. The verdict was, as he thought, on his side. The lady
favoured him with a living evidence of all the attributes he was pleased to
invent for her benefit, and left him with a proof impression of her nails
upon his face, carrying with her, by way of _souvenir_, an ample portion of
the skin thereof. Had the condensed heels of all the horses whose
subscription hairs were wrought into his wig, with one united effort
presented him with a kick in his abdominals, he could not have been more
completely "knocked out of time" than he was by the mistake of those cursed
initials. "_What about Smith?_" sent him out of court! At length he

"Cursed the bar, and declined."

He next turned his attention to building. Things went on swimmingly during
the erection--so did the houses when built. The proprietorship of the
ground was disputed--our uncle Job had paid the wrong person. The buildings
were knocked down (by Mr. Robins), and the individual who had benefited by
the suppositionary ownership of the acres let on the building lease "bought
the lot," and sent uncle Job a peculiarly well-worded legal notice,
intimating, "his respectable presence would, for the future, approximate to
a nuisance and trespass, and he (Job) would be proceeded against as the
statutes directed, if guilty of the same."

It is impossible to follow him through all his various strivings to do
well: he commenced a small-beer brewery, and the thunder turned it all into
vinegar; he tried vinegar, and nothing on earth could make it sour; he
opened a milk-walk, and the parish pump failed; he invented a waterproof