The divorce lawyers announce to the public that they have powerful influence with the judges and that it will be an easy matter for them to secure a divorce for the unlucky man or woman and that they can untie the marriage knot, and the guarantee to do it with the ease and celerity with which it is tied. This would seem strange in a state where the laws regulating divorce are so rigid; but the divorce lawyer knows how to set even these at defiance, and that his efforts are successful is shown by the handsome income he enjoys and the elegant style in which he lives. He does not rely upon Chicago alone for his field of operation; some states are more liberal in this matter, and if the separation of husband and wife cannot be procured in Chicago, he can easily accomplish it in some other part of the Union. The divorce lawyer devotes himself to this branch of his profession almost exclusively. He is sometimes an ex-member of the Bar, who has been disbarred for dishonest practices, and cannot appear directly in the case himself. He hires some shyster lawyer to go through the formalities of the courts for him, and sometimes succeeds in inducing a lawyer of good standing to act for him. His office is usually in the quarter most frequented to by practitioners of standing, and is located in some large building, so that his clients may come and go without attracting special notice. The outer office is fitted up in regular legal style, with substantial desks and tables, and the walls are lined with cases of law books. The private consultation room is elegantly furnished, and is provided with the coziest arm-chairs, in which the clients can sit at their ease, and pour into the sympathizing ears of the “counsellor” their tales of woe. Let us seat ourselves, unseen, in the private office of a leading divorce firm. They are located in a superb building on La Salle street and have elegantly fitted up apartments. Counsellor ——, the head of the firm, conducts the consultations. He is a portly, smooth-faced, oily-tongued man, possessing great powers of cheek and plausiveness, just the man to lead a hesitating client to take the decisive step. A clerk from the outer office announces a visitor. A richly dressed, closely veiled lady is shown in and the portly counsellor, rising courteously, places a chair for her. The seat is taken, the veil thrown back, and the counsellor finds himself face to face with a woman of beauty and refinement, and evidently of wealth—a most desirable client. In his blandest tones he invites her to state the nature of her business with him. Then follows a long tale of domestic unhappiness, the sum and substance of which is that she is tired of her husband and wants a divorce from him. “Upon what grounds, Madam?” asks the counsellor, settling down to business. “Grounds?” is the startled, hesitating reply. “Why—t—hat is—I am so unhappy with him.” “Is he unfaithful to you?”