"Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, sternly, "once for all, if this sort of low business is to go on, I'll leave the firm, come what will!" [It flickered across his mind that Titmouse would be a capital client to start with on his own account.] "I protest our names will quite stink in the profession."
"Good, Mr. Gammon, good!" interposed Snap, warmly; "your little action for the usury penalties the other day came off so uncommon well! the judge's compliment to you was so nice"——
"Let me tell you, Mr. Snap," interrupted Gammon, reddening——
"Pho! Come! Can't be helped—fortune of the war,"—interrupted the head of the firm,—"there's only one thing to be looked to,—Is Pitch solvent?—of course we've security for costs out of pocket—eh, Snap?"
Now the fact was, that poor Snap had picked up Pitch at one of the police offices, and, in his zeal for business, had undertaken his case on pure speculation, relying on the apparent strength of the plaintiff's case—Pitch being only a waterman attached to a coach stand. When, therefore, the very ominous question of Mr. Quirk met Snap's ear, he suddenly happened (at least, he chose to appear to think so) to hear himself called for from the clerk's room, and bolted out of Mr. Gammon's room rather unceremoniously.
"Snap will be the ruin of the firm, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, with an air of disgust. "But I really must get on with the brief I'm drawing; so, Mr. Quirk, we can talk about Titmouse to-morrow!"
The brief he was drawing up was for a defendant who was going to nonsuit the plaintiff, (a man with a large family, who had kindly lent the defendant a considerable sum of money,) solely because of the want of a stamp.
Quirk differed in opinion with Gammon, and, as he resumed his seat at his desk, he could not help writing the words, "Quirk and Snap," and thinking how well such a firm would sound and work—for Snap was verily a chip of the old block!
There will probably never be wanting those who will join in abusing and ridiculing attorneys and solicitors. Why? In almost every action at law, or suit in equity, or proceeding which may, or may not, lead to one, each client conceives a natural dislike for his opponent's attorney or solicitor. If the plaintiff succeeds, he hates the defendant's attorney for putting him (the said plaintiff) to so much expense, and causing him so much vexation and danger; and, when he comes to settle with his own attorney, there is not a little heart-burning in looking at his bill of costs, however reasonable. If the plaintiff fails, of course it is through the ignorance and unskilfulness of his attorney or solicitor! and he hates almost equally his own, and his opponent's attorney!—Precisely so is it with a successful or unsuccessful defendant. In fact, an attorney or solicitor is almost always obliged to be acting adversely to some one of whom he at once makes an enemy; for an attorney's weapons must necessarily be pointed almost invariably at our pockets! He is necessarily, also, called into action in cases when all the worst passions of our nature—our hatred and revenge, and our self-interest—are set in motion. Consider the mischief which might be constantly done on a grand scale in society, if the vast majority of attorneys and solicitors were not honorable, and able men! Conceive them, for a moment, disposed everywhere to stir up litigation, by availing themselves of their perfect acquaintance with almost all men's circumstances—artfully inflaming irritable and vindictive clients, kindling, instead of stifling, family dissensions, and fomenting public strife—why, were they to do only a hundredth part of what it is thus in their power to do, our courts of justice would soon be doubled, together with the number of our judges, counsel, and attorneys; new jails must be built to hold the ruined litigants—and the insolvent court enlarged, and in constant session throughout the year.
But not all of this body of honorable and valuable men are entitled to this tribute of praise. There are a few Quirks, several Gammons, and many Snaps, in the profession of the law—men whose characters and doings often make fools visit the sins of individuals upon the whole species; nay, there are far worse, as I have heard—but I must return to my narrative.