And again. Suppose we had as many preachers of the Gospel for lawgivers—for presidents, secretaries, ministers, etc., and for judges—what would be our situation? However they might differ among themselves upon the minor points of their faith and practice, would they not combine together? And would it not be their duty to combine, for the establishment of whatever opinion they might all, or a great majority of them, have agreed to uphold, as vital to Christianity? And how could we help ourselves? And what would become of our ambitious young men, or still more ambitious daughters? And what—I beseech you to think of this—what would become of the right we now claim of judging for ourselves upon all subjects, that in any way belong to our everlasting welfare? Yet these men are honest, and taken together, are they not as trustworthy and conscientious under all circumstances, think you, as our present masters, the lawyers? And if so, would they—or would the physicians, or the soldiers be a whit more dangerous? Answer these questions for yourselves. But I have not finished. I hold that the professional training of a lawyer disqualifies him for the very business, which might be entrusted with comparative safety to the soldier, the physician, or the preacher. And wherefore? Because it substitutes a new law for the law of God. He that by his professional adroitness can secure the escape of the bloodiest and most atrocious criminal from justice, in spite of the clearest proof, obtains a reputation, and with it correspondent advantages in wealth, influence, and power, which under no other circumstances could he obtain. It is the worst cases, whether criminal or civil—cases which he gains in defiance of law, and against evidence—which give a lawyer reputation. To win a cause which every body says he ought to win, _that_ never gives a man reputation, and is therefore committed to the nobodies below him. But, if there be a case beyond the reach of hope or palliation; clear and conclusive against the party, so that our very blood thrills when he is mentioned, and no human being supposes he can get clear; still if he does get clear—no matter how—by browbeating or bothering witnesses; by bamboozling the jury, and misrepresenting the evidence under the direction of the court; or by down-right bullying; the advocate is complimented by his brethren of the bar, and even by the bench; for his learned, ingenious, and eloquent, and faithful vindication of his client; and he goes forth, carrying with him these trophies,—and others, it may be—dabbled and stained with blood, like the murderer’s knife, with “the gray hair stickin’ to the haft,” only to be retained in advance by every desperate ruffian, and every abandoned wretch, who may happen to hear of the result, and to have the where-withal to secure his timely co-operation.