That our leading Advocates will not relish this doctrine, I know. In theory, they may approve—but in practice, when they and their interest, and their professional pride are once engaged, they will never yield. Always taking it for granted that their client tells the truth—in proportion to the fee; and always determined to prevail, if they can, right or wrong, their reformation will depend, not upon themselves, but upon others—upon the People at large; for whenever the People say that a professional acquaintance with law shall be a disqualification for the business of law-making, and no great recommendation for office, then will the lawyers of our country begin to mind their own business, and cease to be mere politicians, clamoring, open-mouthed, for office all their lives long. And here, lest I may forget them in the proper place, allow me to illustrate the disposition of the People to see fair play, by two or three—Joe Millers, which I never lose an opportunity of telling under this head. They show that my brethren of the bar sometimes get their “come ups” where they least expect it—and very much to the satisfaction of the multitude. It is told of Jere. Mason, and of some forty others at home and abroad, that on being assigned for counsel to a sad wretch whose case he found to be hopeless, he went to his cell, and after hearing his story, became satisfied that the poor fellow would swing for it, if tried; and so, seeing a sort of window open, high up and far above the prisoner’s reach if unhelped, he suggested to him that there was a beautiful prospect to be seen from that window—perhaps “the high-road to England,” which the amiable Dr. Johnson said was the finest prospect a Scotchman ever sees—and then, seeing the prisoner’s eyes begin to sparkle, he offered himself as a sort of ladder or look out, and standing with his back to the wall, and letting the man climb over him, he never looked up till it was too late, and the man had disappeared—whereupon he returned to the court-room, and on being questioned, acknowledged that he had given the fellow the best advice he could—which advice must be a secret from everybody, since it was the privilege, not of the counsel, but of the client. All this, you see, was according to law, if not in fact, at least in principle. A Lawyer might do this—and escape scot-free, as if it were only a good joke: while a brother of the prisoner, or a father, might have been sent to the scaffold.