s whether a fairer trial might be
obtained in a higher Court than in a lower one, and before a special
jury than before a common one. That question he never touched, and the
one he did touch he was bound by legal and moral rules not to deal with
at all.

Justice North briefly concurred with his learned brother, and refrained
from adding anything because he would probably have to try the case at
the Old Bailey himself. What a pity he did not reflect on the injustice
of publicly branding as blasphemous the very men he was going to try for
blasphemy within forty-eight hours!

The next morning, February 29, Mr. Ramsey, Mr. Kemp and I duly appeared
at the Old Bailey. Before the regular business commenced, I asked his
lordship (it was indeed Justice North) to postpone our trial until the
next sessions, on the ground that, as my application for a _certiorari_
was only decided the day before, there had been no time to prepare an
adequate defence. His lordship refused to grant us an hour for that
absurd purpose. Directly I sat down Mr. Poland arose, and begged
that our trial might be deferred until the morrow, as his leader, Sir
Hardinge Giffard, was obliged to attend elsewhere. This request was
granted with a gracious smile and a bland, "Of course, Mr. Poland." What
a spectacle! An English judge refusing a fellow-citizen a single hour
for the defence of his liberty and perhaps his life, and granting a
delay of twenty-four hours to enable a brother lawyer to earn his fee!

I spent the rest of that day in preparations for the morrow--writing out
directions for Mr. Wheeler in case I should be sent to prison, arranging
books and documents, and leaving messages with various friends; and
I sat far into the night putting together finally the notes for my
defence. I was quite cool and collected; I neglected nothing I had time
for, and I was dead asleep five minutes after I laid my head on the
pillow. Only for a moment was I even perturbed. It was when I was giving
Mr. Wheeler his last instructions. Pointing to my book-shelves, I said:
"Now, Joe, remember that if Mrs. Foote has any need, or if there should
ever be a hitch with the paper, you are to sell my books--all of them
if necessary." A great sob shook my friend from head to foot. The bitter
truth seemed to strike him with startling force. Imprisonment, and all
it involved, was no longer a dim possibility: it was a grim reality that
might have to be faced to-morrow. "Tut, tut, Jo