thirsting for the blood of the prisoner' he settles down to demolishing the moral character of the unfortunate prosecutor. He paints the unhappy Mr. Chawbacon (who is in reality a perfectly harmless and respectable member of society) as a drunken libertine. He comments at great length upon Mr. Chawbacon's inability to state with accuracy what he had had to drink upon the night of the robbery, 'from which fact, gentlemen,' says Mr. Bullywell (with a wink at one of the jurymen whom he sees is in his favour), 'you, as men of the world, will draw your own conclusions.' He enlarges upon the fact of the stolen purse not having been found upon the prisoner, and although he knows well that Jane Smith has been convicted several times previously, he paints her in true Old Bailey style as an angel of light. He remarks severely upon what, 'with pain, gentlemen, yes, with pain,' he must take leave to designate as 'the unworthy, the scandalous, and he will even add the unexampled conduct' of his learned friend, Mr. Howler, in asserting that the prisoner had passed the purse to a confederate, when there was 'not one tittle of evidence, gentlemen-not one single tittle of evidence '-to support his learned friend's

statement.

'Dismiss that suggestion, gentlemen,' continues

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Mr. Bullywell-who, as he warms to his work, slaps the palms of his outstretched hands together, and lets his ugly mouth fall with an Old Bailey droop' at the end of each sentence-'dismiss that suggestion from your minds, gentlemen, and try this case upon the evidence, and what do you find? You find a drunken man coming cut of a place of amusement at the hour of midnight—at the hour of midnight, gentlemen; he is surrounded by a crowd of men and women who are pressing upon him upon every side; he feels some one's hand in his pocket, or he fancies he feels some one's hand in his pocket; for I think, gentlemen, you'll agree with me that Mr. Giles Chawbacon was in such a state of intoxication that he could'nt distinguish between fact and fancy; he seizes hold of the person nearest him who happens to be—such is life, gentlemen-my unfortunate client. But, gentlemen, where is the prosecutor's purse? Was it found upon the prisoner? No! Where is that purse, gentlemen? In the sacred interests of justice, I demand that purse. But, gentlemen,' (sinking his voice to a whisper) 'd'ye believe that the prosecutor's purse was ever stolen at all? D'ye not think that the prosecutor may have lost it himself, or even given it away-for remember, gentlemen, how drunk he was? Gentlemen, excepting

for the unsupported testimony-the unsupported testimony, gentlemen-of the prosecutor, there is no evidence that any robbery was ever committed, and even if there were a robbery, there is nothing to show that the prisoner was the person who committed that robbery. Gentlemen, remember, that if you have any doubt of the guilt of the prisoner

Fudge (interrupting)- Reasonable doubt, Mr. Bullywell.'

Mr. Bullywell: 'I am obliged to his ludship, gentlemen, for the correction; and, as I was saying, if you have any reasonable doubt in this case, you are bound to give the prisoner the benefit of that doubt. Gentlemen,' adds Mr. Bullywell, trying hard to infuse a little tenderness into his harsh and strident voice, 'gentlemen, she is a woman; she is young; she stands, it may be, for the first time, in that dock.' (No one knows better, Rusticus, than Mr. Bullywell that he has himself defended her upon two or three previous occasions, when she has been charged with the committal of similar offences to that for which she is now being tried). Gentlemen,' continues old Bullywell, 'she feels acutely the position in which she stands.' (At this point the young woman with admirable skill, buries her face in her hands and sobs convulsively.) 'I ask you, gentlemen,' concludes Mr. Bullywell, (after gazing with

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genuine admiration at the prisoner and remarking sotto voce to a barrister sitting near him, that she is a knowing one,') 'I ask you, gentlemen, to give the prisoner the benefit of the doubt, which I venture to think you must feel in this case, and acquit her of this charge.'

Mr. Bullywell with this sits down with a theatrical crash and-it must be admitted, Rusticus, that he has worked hard for his guinea! The judge now sums the case up to the jury very weakly, and the twelve intelligent men whom Mr. Bullywell saw in that box before him, speedily make him happy with a verdict of Not Guilty.

Let us now go, Rusticus, for a few moments into the other court, for there are generally, you must know, two courts sitting at the Old Bailey for the trial of prisoners. That bullet-headed man, Rusticus, whom you see upon the judgment seat in the second court, is Mr. Baron Bounderby, one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer, and the counsel who is addressing him is Mr. Sergeant Sleekman. Sleekman's forte as an advocate, let me tell you, Rusticus, is earnestness.' You can hear, for example, at this very instant, that he is addressing the court upon behalf of injured innocence in an earnest' voice. Mr. Sergeant Sleekman, Rusticus, can weep at will. See, even now

he is passing his cambric handkerchief before his eyes to wipe away the tears that are bedewing his manly cheek. It is, of course, of Sleekman, Rusticus, that the celebrated Old Bailey story is told, of his once holding up a weeping child to the jury, whilst he besought them to have sympathy upon the mother of the hapless babe whom he held in his arms.

'Why do you cry so, my boy?' thereupon demanded the counsel for the prosecution of the weeping infant.

'Because, sir,' replied the enfant terrible, he' (meaning Sleekman) 'is pinching me so!'

But Sleekman's 'earnest' address, Rusticus, has come to an end, and Mr. Baron Bounderby is beginning to sum up. Bounderby, Rusticus, is a very able judge, and watch how, in a few telling sentences, he demolishes the flimsy case for the prisoner, which Sleekman has striven so hard to set up. The jury, at the close of Bounderby's summing up, at once find the prisoner guilty, and the learned Baron you hear, instantly proceeds to pass sentence.

'Prisoner at the bar,' remarks the learned Baron, 'the jury have found you guilty, upon evidence which could leave no doubt upon the mind of any sane man, that you committed an outrage marked by the grossest brutality, by the most '