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 , addressedaddressby a large advocate with great whiskers , a little voice , and an interminable brief , and outwardly directing his contemplationcontemplationto the lantern in the roof , where he can seeseenothing but fogfog.