te John Fisher or the
eloquent and upright Sir John Eliot underwent in the Tower for
conscience sake, the heart's blood within us is stirred with righteous
indignation. But we are calmed by the reflection that these things took
place centuries ago, and in a far-distant country. In the case of Robert
Gourlay we can lay no such flattering unction to our souls. His slow
crucifixion was accomplished in our own land, and at a time well
remembered by many persons now living among us. Some idea of what he
passed through may be derived from his own words already quoted. Further
light on the subject may be obtained from noting his demeanour when
placed on trial, as the reader will presently have an opportunity of
doing.

For some months after his incarceration his fine state of health and
exuberant animal spirits kept him from utterly breaking down. His whole
nature was up in arms at the wrongs he had sustained, and his pugnacity
asserted itself as far as his circumstances would admit of. He obtained
the opinions of eminent English lawyers as to the legal aspect of his
case. The unanimous opinion of counsel was that his imprisonment was
wholly unjustifiable. Sir Arthur Piggott was clear that Chief Justice
Powell should have discharged the prisoner when brought before him under
the writ of _habeas corpus_, and that Dickson and Claus were liable to
actions for false imprisonment. This opinion was acted upon, and
proceedings were instituted against the two last-named personages. But
the contest was too unequal. Each of the defendants obtained an order
for security for costs, which security the plaintiff, being in
confinement, and subject to various disabilities, was unable to furnish.
The actions accordingly lapsed, and Dickson and Claus thus escaped all
civil liability for their most reprehensible deeds.

The thread of the narrative may now be resumed pretty nearly where it
was dropped a few pages back. It was, as has been said, the 20th of
August--nearly a year subsequent to the Kingston trial[12]--when the
prisoner was finally placed in the dock to undergo the semblance,
without the reality, of a judicial investigation into his conduct. He
was himself firmly persuaded that the jury empanelled in his case was a
packed one. We have no means of knowing all the circumstances whereby he
was led to this conclusion, but the idea is not in itself inherently
improbable. In those days, and for long after, no man tried in Upper
Canada fo