Said to Hawkins, the author of " Pleas of the Crown," "Ne'er have you seen in your practice, I wis, Such a case of descent by an heir-ship as this." Soon, as they fell, a sulphurous smell Announced their approach to the Devil's hotel; They stopped at a door which presented this sign, — "Apply at the office. Please get into line. But ere they could even get down from the stage A devil in red, with two horns on his head, Delivered these sentiments, much to their rage: "I 'm sorry to hinder your further progres sion, But really I can't let you into possession : I'm under strict orders to take in no board ers Who 've ever engaged in the legal pro fession. The fact is, my friends, this hotel is too small; What in hell do you think we could do with you all?" They were silent and dazed, and greatly amazed, For they 'd never expected the point would be raised. Exclusion from heaven was certainly sad, But this second repulse seemed a little too bad: The Devil, they said, was evading in fact Liability under the Inn-Keepers' Act. But what should they do, and how should they begin it? It was easy to see, by reflecting a minute, As for heaven or hell, they were simply not in it. At last they resolved, like the pigeon of old, To find some retreat for the soles of their feet, Paved neither with good resolutions nor gold. So paying the driver the sum that they owed,
They promptly set out to secure an abode. Whereabouts they discovered it, we do not know; Nor how many years, mid hopes and fears, They hunted the universe high and low: But this is as certain as certain can be, They at last became seised of a close in fee Somewhere out in the distant sky; And they dwell on high, as the years go by. With never a care and never a sigh. And oft at evening time, 'tis said, When the lamps are lit and the board is spread, They cheer the hours with genial mirth, Recalling the days that they spent on earth. Such a banquet is spread on the table of law As never a mortal attorney saw : Slabs of law-calf instead of veal, Juicy fat cases served up on appeal, Actions of trover, remainders over, And an excellent digest to settle the meal. They drink the best wine that there is to be had, In liv'ry of seisin the servants are clad. The food is served up on folio plates; They sit on reports from the different courts, Especially those from the Western States. Three ladies enliven the jovial scene, Whose names are right well known, I ween, — Bar-maids, whose characters might be cleaner. Miss Feasance, Miss Joinder, and coy Miss Demeanor. Ever they live in perpetual bliss; What happier end could destiny send To an honest and painstaking lawyer than this? And ever since then, when a lawyer dies, And his soul passes on beyond the skies, Come he from near or come he from far. He's judged by the great immortal bar; And if he is found without legal sin, They open their circle and take him in-, But if he has lied, or even tried To use false means to help his side, He is cast adrift into empty space, And never shall find a resting-place.
