prosecution closed at one o'clock, exactly as it
did on our first trial at the Old Bailey. But the Lord Chief Justice
of England, with the instinct of a gentleman and the consideration of a
just judge, did not need to be reminded that an adjournment in half an
hour would make an awkward break in our defence. Without any motion on
our part, he said: "If you would rather take your luncheon first, before
addressing the jury, do so by all means." Mr. Ramsey, who preceded me
then, had just risen to read his address. After a double experience of
Judge North, and two months' imprisonment like a common thief under his
sentence, he was fairly staggered by Lord Coleridge's kindly proposal,
and I confess I fully shared his emotion.

Sir Hardinge Giffard had grossly misled the jury on one point. He told
them that even in "our great Indian dominions, where Christianity was by
no means the creed of the majority of the population, it had been found
necessary to protect the freedom of conscience and the right of every
man to hold his own faith, by making criminal offenders of those who,
for outrage and insult, thought it necessary to issue contumelious or
scornful publications concerning any religious sect." In reply to this
absolute falsehood, I pointed out that the Indian law did not affect
publications at all, but simply punished people for openly desecrating
sacred places or railing at any sect in the public thoroughfare, on the
ground that such conduct tended to a breach of the peace; and that under
the very same law members of the Salvation Army had been arrested and
imprisoned because they persisted in walking in procession through the
streets. Under the Indian law, no prosecution of the _Freethinker_ could
have been initiated; and, in support of this statement, I proceeded
to quote from a letter by Professor W. A. Hunter, in the _Daily News_.
Judge North doubtless knew that I could cite no higher authority, and
seeing how badly his friend Sir Hardinge was faring, he prudently came
to his assistance. Interrupting me very uncivilly, he inquired what
Professor Hunter's letter had to do with the subject, and remarked that
the jury had nothing to do with the law of India. "Then, my lord," I
retorted, "I will discontinue my remarks on this point, only expressing
my regret that the learned counsel should have thought it necessary to
occupy the time of the court with it." Whereat there was much laughter,
and his lordship's face was cove