neat little knock, and looking into the hall, I saw a gentleman taking
off his clogs there, whilst Sir Giles Bacon's big footman was looking on
with rather a contemptuous air.

"What name shall I enounce?" says he, with a wink at Gregory on the
stair.

The gentleman in clogs said, with quiet dignity,--


MR. FREDERICK MINCHIN.


"Pump Court, Temple," is printed on his cards in very small type: and he
is a rising barrister of the Western Circuit. He is to be found at home
of mornings: afterwards "at Westminster," as you read on his back door.
"Binks and Minchin's Reports" are probably known to my legal friends:
this is the Minchin in question.

He is decidedly genteel, and is rather in request at the balls of the
Judges' and Serjeants' ladies: for he dances irreproachably, and goes
out to dinner as much as ever he can.

He mostly dines at the Oxford and Cambridge Club, of which you can
easily see by his appearance that he is a member; he takes the joint and
his half-pint of wine, for Minchin does everything like a gentleman.
He is rather of a literary turn; still makes Latin verses with some
neatness; and before he was called, was remarkably fond of the flute.

When Mr. Minchin goes out in the evening, his clerk brings his bag to