AT THE BAR.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "A CRUISE UPON WHEELS," &c. &c.
  CHAPTER XVI. DOWN IN THE WORLD.

ON that same evening, the commencement of
which was signalised by that painful scene in
the house in Beaumont-street which was narrated
in the last chapter, Mr. Julius Lethwaite
sat in his new lodgings, smoking his pipe and
talking over business-matters with that devoted
personage Jonathan Goodrich.

The new rooms formed a striking contrast to
the old, and were situated on the third floor of
a house in the neighbourhood of Lincoln's Inn.
These rooms were small and poorly furnished.
Only two or three articles, special favourites
with their proprietor, had been retained by him
when the St. James's-street rooms were given
up; an easy-chair, a small clock that would go,
and one or two prints. He had kept a certain
number of law books, too, and these, together
with the engravings before alluded to, gave the
apartment at any rate a humanised look, and
prevented it from being utterly bare and desolate
in appearance. A small door led into a
bedroom, which adjoined the sitting-room; and
these two apartments formed the modest
residence of Mr. Julius Lethwaite.

There were tea-things on the table, and there
was a tin kettle on the fire, at which Mr.
Goodrich was in the act of toasting that
delicious engine of destruction, a muffin.

"I bought it myself," said Mr. Lethwaite,
laying aside his pipe as a preliminary step to be
taken before it was possible to engage in the
meal before him. "I mean to live upon them.
They are very cheap, and exceedingly satisfying."

"Ah, sir! Don't you talk like that, even in
joke," said poor Goodrich, as he turned the
deadly morsel.

"But it's not a joke, Jonathan. I always
wanted to live upon muffins when I was a boy,
but parents and guardians, schoolmasters, and
other oppressors, wouldn't stand it. Now there's
nobody to stop me, thank goodness, so I'll try
the experiment."

"Ah, sir, you'd soon have to drop that" said
the old clerk, who had not the power of taking
in a pleasantry. "No digestion could stand a
diet of muffins. Even one now and then's a
trial."

"You're an authority on matters of health, I
know, Jonathan."

"Yes, sir. I generally have an eye to matters
of that sort in my diet, and as to physicking,
I do something in that way too, now and then.
But I never take a drop or a grain of any sort
or kind except on Saturdays, because it might
otherwise interfere with business."

"But you couldn't stick to that, you know, if
you had a serious illness," said Lethwaite, willing
to draw the old fellow out.

"Well, sir, I believe that was how I fell into
that illness which I had when you were so good
to me. It was a bad illness that," said the old
man, in a retrospective tone,"and it began to
threaten me on a Monday, and on the Tuesday
I had to go to the doctor on my way into
business. 'Now, instead of going into business,'
he says, 'you just go straight home
and get into bed, and put on half a dozen
leeches, and get this prescription made up, and
take the mixture directly, as indicated.' That's
what he said, quite energetic. 'I thank you
kindly, sir,' I said in answer, 'but I never do
anything in the way of physicking and that
except on Saturdays, lest it should interfere
with business.' He seemed quite aghast at
that. 'Why, man,' he said, almost irritably, 'you
are suffering from the premonitory symptoms of
inflammation of the lungs; and if you put off
the legitimate treatment you may kill yourself,
while, if you have recourse to it at once, you
may avert the inflammation, and get well again
in no time.' 'Thank you kindly, sir,' was my
answer, 'but not till Saturday. I never have
taken medicine except on Saturday, and please
goodness I never will' 'Very well,' says he;
'I've done my duty, at any rate, and I wash my
hands of it.' Ah well, I fought on and fought
on for a day or two longer, but I was forced to
give in at last, and by the Thursday night I was
in a fever, and out of my mind, as nobody knows
better than you, sir."

"Yes, and wanting to go down to the office
in your raving fit, and crying out that it would
all go wrong unless you did. And now you
see, you old goose, it's all gone wrong in spite
of your being there every day of your life. So
you see you've been no good after all."

"Not much, I'm afraid, sir," said the poor old
fellow.

"But seriously, Jonathan. Is it all up with
us?"