along. He was a great stickler for a man's doing his
duty, and was possessed with the idea that, getting on as I was, it
was my duty to refuse to take a brief in the County Court.
Coming up to me on the occasion I refer to, Morgan said, "What, _you_
here, Hawkins! I believe you'd take a brief before the devil in
h----."
I was quite taken aback for the moment by the use of such language. If
he had not been so religious a man, perhaps I should not have felt it
so much; as it was, I could hardly fetch my breath.
When I recovered my equanimity I answered, "Yes, Morgan, I would, and
should get one of my devils to hold it."
He seemed appeased by my frank avowal, for he loved honesty almost as
much as fees.
CHAPTER XVII.
APPOINTED QUEEN'S COUNSEL--A SERIOUS ILLNESS--SAM LEWIS.
On January 10, 1859, the Lord Chancellor did me the honour of
recommending my name to Her Most Gracious Majesty, and I was raised to
the rank and dignity of a Queen's Counsel.
This is a step of doubtful wisdom to most men in the legal profession,
for it is generally looked upon as the end of a man's career or the
beginning. I had no doubt about the propriety of the step; it had been
the object of my ambition, and I believe I should unhesitatingly have
acted as I did even if it had been the termination of my professional
life. My idea was to go forward in the career I had chosen. The junior
work, if it had not lost its emoluments, no longer possessed the
pleasurable excitement of the old days. It was never my ambition
merely to "mark time;" that is unsatisfactory exertion, and leads no
whither.
But enough; I took silk, and a new life opened before me. I was a
leader.
My business rolled on in ever-increasing volume, so that I had to
fairly pick my way through the constant downpour of briefs, but
was always pressed forward by that useful institution known as the
"barrister's clerk."
Whatever business overwhelms the counsel, no amount of it would
disconcert the clerk, and it is wonderful how many briefs he can
arrange in upstanding attitude along mantelpieces, tables, tops of
dwarf cupboards, windows--anywhere, in fact, where there is anything
to stand a brief on--without that gentleman feeling the least
exhausted. It would take as long to wear him out as to wear to a level
the rocks of Niagara. The loss of a brief to him is almost like the
loss of an eye. It would take a week after such a disaster to get the
right focus o
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