rison fare
after leaving the Old Bailey. But the hour was late, the cook was
probably off duty, and our tea and toast had been waiting for us since
five o'clock; so the head warder decided that we might postpone our
trial of the prison _menu_ until the morning. When it was brought to me,
my toast (to use an Hibernicism) proved to be bread-and-butter. There
were three slices. I ate two, but could not consume the third, my
appetite being spoiled by excitement and the tepid tea.

The officer who acted as waiter informed me that the Old Bailey Street
had been thronged all the afternoon, and was still crowded. "We all
thought," he said, "that you would get off after that speech--and you
would have with another judge. But you won't be in long. They're sure to
get you out soon." I shook my head. "Take my word for it," he answered.
Thanking him for his kindness, I told him I had no hope, and was
reconciled to my fate. Twelve months was a long time, but I was
young and strong, and should pull through it. "Yes," he said, with an
appreciative look from head to feet, "there isn't much the matter with
you now. But you'll be out soon, sir, mark my word."

I have learnt since that the crowd waited to give Judge North a warm
reception. But they were disappointed. His lordship went home, I
understand, _via_ Newgate Street, and thus baffled their enthusiasm. Mr.
Cattell was, I believe, less fortunate. He was hooted and jeered by the
multitude, and obliged to take ignominious shelter in a cab.

Strange as it may seem, my last night in Newgate was one of profound
repose. I was wearied, exhausted; and spent nature claimed an interval
of rest. For a few minutes I lay in my hammock, listening to the faint
sound of distant voices and footsteps. Memory and fancy were inert; only
the senses were faintly alive. Consciousness gradually contracted to
a dim vision of the narrow cell, then to a haze, in which the gaslight
shone like a star, and finally died out. But by one of those fantastic
tricks the imps of dreaming play us, the last patch of consciousness
changed into my wife's face. It was too dim and distant to stir grief or
regret; like the vague vision of a beloved face hovering over eyes that
are waning in death.

In the morning I was awakened as usual by the officer bringing the light
for my gas. At eight o'clock the little square flap in my door was let
down with the customary bang, and, on looking through the aperture,
I perceived a b