Mr. George Stevens was a pettifogging attorney, who derived a tolerable
income from a rather disreputable legal practice picked up among the courts
that held their sessions in the various halls of the State-house. He was
known in the profession as Slippery George, from the easy manner in which
he glided out of scrapes that would have been fatal to the reputation of
any other lawyer. Did a man break into a house, and escape without being
actually caught on the spot with the goods in his possession, Stevens was
always able to prove an alibi by a long array of witnesses. In fact, he was
considered by the swell gentry of the city as their especial friend and
protector, and by the members of the bar generally as anything but an
ornament to the profession.
He had had rather a fatiguing day's labour, and on the evening of which we
write, was indulging in his usual cigar, and amusing himself at the same
time by observing the gambols of Clarence and little Em, who were enjoying
a romp in their father's garden.
"Come here, Jule," said he, "and look at our new neighbour's
children--rather pretty, ain't they?"
He was joined by a diminutive red-faced woman, with hair and eyes very much
like his own, and a face that wore a peevish, pinched expression.
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