CHAP. VII.
IT is wisely observed by a great philosopher, that habit is a second nature: this was verified in the case of John Bull, who, from an honest and plain tradesman, had got such a haunt about the courts of justice, and such a jargon of law-words, that he concluded himself as able a lawyer as any that pleaded at the bar, or sat on the bench: he was overheard one day talking to himself after this manner[1]: "How capriciously does fate or chance dispose of mankind? How seldom is that business allotted to a man, for which he is fitted by nature? It is plain, I was intended for a man of law: how did my guardians mistake my genius, in placing me, like a mean slave, behind a counter? Bless me! what immense estates these fellows raise by the law? Besides, it is the profession of a gentleman. What a pleasure is it to be victorious in a cause? to swagger at the bar? What a fool am I to drudge any more in this woollen trade? for a lawyer I was born, and a lawyer I will be; one is never too old to learn." All this while John had conned over such a catalogue of hard words, as were enough to conjure up the devil; this he used to babble indifferently in all companies, especially at
- ↑ The manners and sentiments of the nation became extravagant and chimerical.
