And now let me suppose that, instead of going to the last mentioned, _honest_ lawyer, he had gone to some other. He is heard, to be sure, but with visible impatience: he is continually interrupted and questioned and cross-questioned, by the half hour. The learned gentleman has a very large snuff-box on the table before him—two or three very large portfolios, and at least a wheelbarrow load of papers tied with red tape. He takes off his spectacles and snuffs, and wipes them with his glove and snuffs, and replaces them and snuffs; now he lifts them and looks under them, and now he lowers them and looks over them steadfast and solemn, though troubled and perplexed, with his mouth screwed up, and making faces at his client all the time: he shakes his head and jumps up, and takes a pinch, and then shakes his head and sits down, and takes another pinch: with a huge pile of authorities before him, and ever so many lying open, and having secured a retainer, at last he tells his client to call on the morrow at 11¼ o’clock _precisely_. The client, awe-struck at the vastness of that legal erudition he has been favored with a few glimpses of, steals away on tip-toe, rubbing his hands with delight and astonishment, and talking to himself perhaps all the way down stairs and into the street. After three or four consultations the case comes on for trial. The Adversary goes at the jury head-first, with a speech varying from two hours to two days. Of course, it will require from two hours to two days to answer it—and every thing must be answered, you know, whether it has to do with the question or not—as in the passage between Tristram Bulges and John Randolph, about the buzzard, or bald-eagle, I forget which; for after all, there is no great difference between them, as I have heretofore found to my cost; or as in that between Webster and Hayne about poor Banquo’s ghost, in the Senate chamber. And now, having insulted the witnesses, and the court, and the opposite counsel, and tired the jury by an everlasting speech, when they were already more than half asleep; or by arguing questions of law and fact wholly supposititious, for the benefit of his younger brethren and the by-standers—the case goes to the jury, under the charge of the court perhaps, and is lost. But who cares?—not the client; for when told that he has a hundred dollars to pay, instead of fifty as before, he calls it dog-cheap, and insists upon paying more, and why? Because _that_ lawyer had made the case his own—and he goes about saying, “Didn’t he give it to ’em!—bench, bar and jury!—didn’t he acknowledge they were all a set of nincompoops!—and didn’t he lather my adversary and my adversary’s counsel, and all his witnesses, little and big, and especially the women and children, beautifully!—handsomely!—and isn’t he the man, therefore, not only for my money, but for the money of all my acquaintances who may ever want a zealous and _faithful_ lawyer to manage their business for them!”