"'They (Solicitors) are the guardians of our dearest (yes, our dearest) interests, the confidants of family secrets, the arbiters in family controversies, and not infrequently the custodians of the honour and the good name of their clients.'
"Quite so. Why, Boy, did we let out the Secrets of the Blue Bag, the contents of Old Nick's Sack, which that 'stupid old snuff-colour'd son of a gun,' Saint Medard 'cut into slits on the Red Sea shore' would be nothing to 'em!"
"Nothink at all, Sir; nothink, wotsomedever!"
"No matter—a time will come, Boy! In Mr. WILLIAM MELMOTH WALTERS's speech I see the dawn of it.
"'The Profession, it is true, does not receive in any great measure those official dignities and rewards which the President claims on its behalf, nor are we quite confident that, if it did, the fact would increase the confidence or the respect of its clients.'
"Well, the Times may not be 'quite confident.' I am! And so would the clients be, I'm sure. Remove that Blue Bag, Boy! Wonder what Mr. Pickwick's opinion of Mr. WALTERS's speech would have been, and that of the Wellers, father and son! [Sings.
"I'll place it in the hand of my Solicitors;
I'll have this thing put right.
We may make money,
But—isn't it funny!—