Page:The knickerbocker (IA knickerbocker00agne).pdf/60
To siege the smoking board,
Which fills with grateful incense all the air;
But first the reverend sire, with frosty hair,
Craves 'daily bread' for those assembled there,
From Him for aye adored.
Above no weltering foe;
No timid suppliants for mercy kneel—
No vizored foemen with dim vision reel—
But happy voices grace the morning meal
With love's sweet overflow.
The labors of the day;
While I, with angling gear and eager air,
Retreat, like lion to his forest lair,
To shady woods, where winding streams repair,
And while the hours away.
MY FIRST CASE, AND MY FIRST AND LAST LOVE.
Chapter First.
I had just commenced the practice of law in the pretty village of Stoneville, a county-seat. Consultations as to petty matters alone gave hopes of future business. I had not as yet been retained in a single case; not even in one of as little consequence as that in which a worthy legal friend of mine happened to be employed in his earlier practice, namely, a suit involving the right of possession of a rat-trap. My office, however, presented the appearance of business, if business itself were wanting. My book-case was tolerably well filled with elementary works and the latest reports; and some old deeds and other papers tied together in different parcels, with a liberal allowance of red tape, were arranged to the best possible advantage upon my table. Lying also upon the table was a paper-weight of ample dimensions, presumed, at least, to have been placed there for the purpose of preventing the loose but highly important papers underneath it from being lost or mislaid. I had read a large proportion of the books in my library, and re-read some of them, and gave advice, therefore, though young both in age and profession, with a considerable degree of confidence. It was not my fault if I failed to impress those who consulted me with some sense of my dignity and importance. I advised them, indeed, with a hem and a haw, with a gravity and a prolonged deliberation worthy of the learned Smelfungus himself.
In spite of all the real attention I was giving to my books, and thus to my profession, time, as may be supposed, hung heavily on my hands. I had always been fond of trouting, and a beautiful brook, a short distance only from the village, enabled me at once to gratify my piscatory passion, and remove from me a portion of the ennui by which I was oppressed. The brook, which ran for