make our legal friend an ornament to the profession.

Nor is it when office hours are over that Mr. Lawson's labors are
ended. His services are freely given to many societies. Old and
young, rich and poor, can testify to the fact.

Yet he does not rest here. Many an hour the midnight oil has burned
low as this thoughtful student sat poring over pile upon pile of
some old work as he kept up his never-flagging research, or penned
his thoughts with marvellous rapidity.

As anyone appears to better advantage in a neat, cosy little
library, with a bright fire burning in the grate, than in a
cheerless, dim and prosy den, called by way of courtesy, an
"office," we thus look in upon the young man of books and letters.
Phillip Lawson has just returned from a meeting in connexion with
his church, and judging from his haggard looks, has had a busy day.
His bright-eyed little sister has made her appearance at his elbow,
and has placed upon the pretty five-o'clock table a cup of coffee
and some of her own making of tea-cakes.

"Lottie, you silly little puss, why did you go to such trouble?"
asked the admiring brother, as he took the little hands in his and
looked into the piquant face for answer.

"Just as if I am going to let you work yourself to death and starve
you into the bargain! Oh, no, my big brother, I am too selfish to
keep you for myself to do any such thing; so go now and take the
coffee while it is hot, else I shall have to bring more."