On such an afternoon, if ever, the Lord High Chancellor ought to be sitting here--as here he is--with a foggy glory round his head, softly fenced in with crimson cloth and curtains, addressed by a large advocate with great whiskers, a little voice, and an interminable brief, and outwardly directing his contemplation to the lantern in the roof, where he can see nothing but fog. 
Here sits the Lord High Chancellor with a foggy glory round his head, softly fenced in with crimson cloth and curtains, addressed by a large lawyer with great whiskers. 