inds of the audience. It
charged, with wearisome iteration and reiteration, that he, the said
Robert Gourlay, being a seditious and ill-disposed person, and
contriving and maliciously intending the peace and tranquillity of our
lord the King within the Province of Upper Canada to disquiet and
disturb, and to excite discontent and sedition among his Majesty's liege
subjects of this Province--and so forth, and so forth, to the end of the
tedious and tautological chapter. The patriotic and disinterested
conduct of Dickson and Claus, in performing the imperative but
unpleasant duty of committing their personal friend to jail, lest he
should undermine the loyalty of the people, was commented upon with
periphrastic eloquence. When the official inquiry was put to the
prisoner: "How say you, Robert Gourlay, are you guilty or not guilty?"
he instinctively replied "Not guilty." Then came the next query: "Are
you ready for your trial?" Ready for his trial, indeed! when his
helpless condition was apparent to everybody who could catch a glimpse
of his tottering frame and his vacant, expressionless face. The
unmeaning sound which issued from his lips was taken for an affirmative,
and the farce of an impartial investigation proceeded with.

During the whole of these proceedings the prisoner stood like one amazed
and confounded; as one who gropes blindly in the dark for what he cannot
find. From the various hints scattered here and there throughout his
numerous writings, we are able to form some idea of what he underwent
during that trying ordeal. His imagination had been rendered more lively
by weakness and prostration of body, and he was so stimulated by the
change of air from his cell to the court-room that his sensations were
chiefly those of a vague and unreasoning delight--delight at the
prospect of freedom; delight at the prospect of once more enjoying the
luxury of heaven's sunlight unimpeded by the bars of a prison cell; of
running rampant through the land, and feeling upon his sunken cheeks the
deliciously invigorating air of the open fields. His high spirit had
been effectually tamed by that rigid, excruciating torture of close
confinement during the dog days, with no other companion than despair.
By this time personal liberty and fresh air seemed to him the only
things greatly to be desired. He was cognizant of a sensation of
thankfulness that his trial had come on at last, even though it should
result in his banishment. He