  Young Mr. S. P. Iders Webbe, Solicitor, of Clifford's Inn, Sat working in his chambers, which Were far removed from traffic's din. To those in legal trouble he Lent ready ear of sympathy— And six-and-eightpence was his fee. To widows and to orphans, too, Young Mr. Webbe was very nice, And turned none from his door away Who came to seek for his advice: To these, I humbly beg to state— The sad and the disconsolate— His fee was merely six-and-eight. He'd heave a sympathetic sigh, And squeeze each bankrupt client's hand While listening to a tale of woe Salt tears within his eyes would stand. Naught, naught his sympathies could stem, And he would only charge—ahem!— A paltry six-and-eight to them. Was calmly seated at his work, When, from the waiting-room, a card Was brought in by the junior clerk. "Nathaniel Blobbs? Pray ask him to Step in," said Webbe. "How do you do? A very pleasant day to you." A wealthy man and very stout (That he was boiling o'er with rage There could not be the slightest doubt). "I'm given, sir, to understand You're suitor for my daughter's hand. An explanation I demand! "I know your lawyer's tricks, my man; In courting of my daughter Jane— Who's rather plain and not too young— My money's what you seek to gain. Confound you, sir!" the man did roar. "My daughter Jane is no match for A beggarly solicitor!" At words like these most gentlemen Would really have been somewhat riled; But do not think that Mr. Webbe Was angry. No; he merely smiled. But, oh! my friends, the legal smile Is not to trust. 'Tis full of guile. (So smiles the hungry crocodile.) "My worthy sir, your point of view. You're wealthy; I am poor. Of course, What I proposed would never do. If only, now, I'd property, And you were—well, as poor as me——" "Pooh! that," cried Blobbs, "can never be." "Think not?" said Webbe. "Well, p'r'aps you're right. And so—there's nothing more to say. You must be going? What! so soon? I'm sorry, sir, you cannot stay!" Blobbs went—and slammed the outer door. Webbe calmly made the bill out for The interview—a lengthy score. He charged—at highest legal rate— For every word he'd uttered; and He even put down six-and-eight "To asking for Miss Blobbs's hand"; Next, in the Court of Common Pleas A "Breach of Promise" case, with ease, He instituted—if you please. Was over age, the Judge averred, And Blobbs was forced to "grin and pay," Although he vowed 'twas most absurd. The "damages," of course, were slight; But "legal costs" by no means light. (Webbe shared in these as was his right.) Outside the Court indignant Blobbs Gave vent to some expressions which Were libellous, and quickly Webbe Was "down on him" for "using sich." Once more the day was Webbe's, and he, By posing as a damagee, Obtained a thousand pounds, you see. With this round sum he then contrived To buy a vacant small estate Adjoining Blobbs, who went and did Something illegal with a gate. Webbe "had him up" for that, of course; Then something else (about a horse), And later on a water-course. Till action upon action lay, And in the Royal Courts of Law "Webbe versus Blobbs" came on each day. "Law costs" and big "retaining fees," "Mulcted in fines"—such things as these Made Blobbs feel very ill at ease. As Webbe grew rich, so he grew poor, Till finally he said: "Hang pride! I'll let this fellow, if he must, Have Jane, my daughter, for his bride." He went once more to Clifford's Inn. Webbe welcomed him with genial grin: "My very dear sir, pray step in." "Look here!" cried Blobbs. "I'll fight no more! You lawyer fellows, on my life, Will have your way. I must give in. My daughter Jane shall be your wife!" "Dear me! this is unfortunate," Said Webbe. "I much regret to state Your condescension comes too late. (Being a man of property) The young and lovely daughter of Sir Simon Upperten, M.P." Then, in a light and airy way: "I think there's nothing more to say. Pray, mind the bottom step. Good day!"
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