'Yes, it's a--rather a rough day,' said the artist; and then,

feeling that he must change the conversation, 'My friend is an
Australian; he is very impulsive,' he added.

'An Australian?' said another. 'I've a brother myself in
Melbourne. Does your friend come from that way at all?'

'No, not exactly,' replied the artist, whose ideas of the
geography of New Holland were a little scattered. 'He lives

immensely far inland, and is very rich.'
The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering

colonist.
'Well,' remarked the second speaker, 'it's a mighty big place, is

Australia. Do you come from thereaway too?'
'No, I do not,' said Pitman. 'I do not, and I don't want to,' he

added irritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he
fell upon Michael and shook him up.

'Hullo,' said the lawyer, 'what's wrong?'
'The cart is nearly ready,' said Pitman sternly. 'I will not

allow you to sleep.'
'All right--no offence, old man,' replied Michael, yawning. 'A

little sleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively
sober now. But what's all the hurry?' he added, looking round him

glassily. 'I don't see the cart, and I've forgotten where we left
the piano.'

What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the
moment, is with Pitman a matter of tremulousconjecture to this

day; but by the most blessed circumstance the cart was then
announced, and Michael must bend the forces of his mind to the

more difficult task of rising.
'Of course you'll drive,' he remarked to his companion, as he

clambered on the vehicle.
'I drive!' cried Pitman. 'I never did such a thing in my life. I

cannot drive.'
'Very well,' responded Michael with entire composure, 'neither

can I see. But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.'
A glimpse of the ostler's darkening countenancedecided Pitman.

'All right,' he said desperately, 'you drive. I'll tell you where
to go.'

On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not
intended to be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to

dwell at length. Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping
counsels, sole witness of this singular feat, knew not whether

most to admire the driver's valour or his undeserved good
fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, the cart reached

Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown's piano was speedily
and cleverly got on board.

'Well, sir,' said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally
reckoned up a handful of loose silver, 'that's a mortal heavy

piano.'
'It's the richness of the tone,' returned Michael, as he drove

away.
It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick

and quiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth's chambers
in the Temple. There, in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up

the horses and gave them in charge to a blighted shoe-black; and
the pair descending from the cart, whereon they had figured so

incongruously, set forth on foot for the decisive scene of their
adventure. For the first time Michael displayed a shadow of

uneasiness.
'Are my whiskers right?' he asked. 'It would be the devil and all

if I was spotted.'
'They are perfectly in their place,' returned Pitman, with scant

attention. 'But is my disguiseequallyeffective? There is
nothing more likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.'

'O, nobody could tell you without your beard,' said Michael. 'All
you have to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through

your nose already.'
'I only hope the young man won't be at home,' sighed Pitman.

'And I only hope he'll be alone,' returned the lawyer. 'It will
save a precious sight of manoeuvring.'

And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon
admitted them in person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire,

framed nearly to the roof in works connected with the bench of
British Themis, and offering, except in one particular, eloquent

testimony to the legal zeal of the proprietor. The one particular
was the chimney-piece, which displayed a variedassortment of

pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed French novels.
'Mr Forsyth, I believe?' It was Michael who thus opened the

engagement. 'We have come to trouble you with a piece of
business. I fear it's scarcely professional--'

'I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,'
replied Gideon.

'Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be
put on a more regular footing tomorrow,' replied Michael, taking

a chair and motioning Pitman to do the same. 'But you see we
didn't know any solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and

time presses.'
'May I enquire, gentlemen,' asked Gideon, 'to whom it was I am

indebted for a recommendation?'
'You may enquire,' returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh;

'but I was invited not to tell you--till the thing was done.'
'My uncle, no doubt,' was the barrister's conclusion.

'My name is John Dickson,' continued Michael; 'a pretty
well-known name in Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra

Thomas, of the United States of America, a wealthymanufacturer
of india-rubber overshoes.'

'Stop one moment till I make a note of that,' said Gideon; any
one might have supposed he was an old practitioner.

'Perhaps you wouldn't mind my smoking a cigar?' asked Michael. He
had pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there

began to settle on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and
incipient slumber; and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the

like case) that a cigar would clear him.
'Oh, certainly,' cried Gideon blandly. 'Try one of mine; I can

confidently recommend them.' And he handed the box to his client.
'In case I don't make myself perfectly clear,' observed the

Australian, 'it's perhaps best to tell you candidly that I've
been lunching. It's a thing that may happen to any one.'

'O, certainly,' replied the affable barrister. 'But please be
under no sense of hurry. I can give you,' he added, thoughtfully

consulting his watch--'yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.'
'The business that brings me here,' resumed the Australian with

gusto, 'is devilishdelicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr
Thomas, being an American of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted

with our habits, and a wealthymanufacturer of Broadwood
pianos--'

'Broadwood pianos?' cried Gideon, with some surprise. 'Dear me,
do I understand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?'

'O, pirated Broadwoods,' returned Michael. 'My friend's the
American Broadwood.'

'But I understood you to say,' objected Gideon, 'I certainly have
it so in my notes--that your friend was a manufacturer of

india--rubber overshoes.'
'I know it's confusing at first,' said the Australian, with a

beaming smile. 'But he--in short, he combines the two
professions. And many others besides--many, many, many others,'

repeated Mr Dickson, with drunkensolemnity. 'Mr Thomas's
cotton-mills are one of the sights of Tallahassee; Mr Thomas's

tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.; in short, he's one
of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his case before you

with emotion.'
The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed

by his open although nervouscountenance, and the simplicity and
timidity of his manner. 'What a people are these Americans!' he