CHAPTER VI.

A LAWYER'S REVERIE--A VERDANT CLIENT.

A dismal dreary day. The fog had crept slowly over the city and
enveloped every object within its reach. There was fog clinging to
turrets, spires and towers, fog in the streets, fog in the alleys,
fog in the ditches--all was fog. It hurried along utterly regardless
of the delicate fabrics that were ruthlessly despoiled by its touch,
musing now and then, doubtlessly, on the ingratitude of the fair
daughters of St. John who, in the possession of their clear and
brilliant complexions forgot to give thanks to the great enhancer.

In the midst of this fog many pedestrians are wandering to and fro,
crowding the streets, hurrying along the wharves, hailing vehicles,
accosting their friends, and in fact as perfectly happy in their
surroundings as though the cheerful, sunshine were illuminating all
visible space.

Passing along Prince William street as far as Chubb's Corner we see
a familiar form--it is Phillip Lawson. He is enveloped in a gray
Mackintosh and his soft felt hat is worn with an air of careless
ease that is more becoming than otherwise.

"Chubb's Corner" had lost its charm for the young lawyer. He did not
stop to consult stocks, exchanges, debentures or any such business,