o, but the attempt is all that can be made. He cannot command them. I
heard nothing, my mind was in a state of gyration, whirling round from
one thing to the other, until I was giddy from intensity of feeling.

On Monday morning the gaoler came and asked me whether I would have
legal advice. I replied in the negative. "You will be called about
twelve o'clock, I hear," continued he; "it is now ten, and there is only
one more trial before yours, about the stealing of four geese, and half
a dozen fowls."

"Good God!" thought I, "and am I mixed up with such deeds as these?" I
dressed myself with the utmost care and precision, and never was more
successful. My clothes were black, and fitted well. About one o'clock
I was summoned by the gaoler, and led between him and another to the
court-house, and placed in the dock. At first my eyes swam, and I could
distinguish nothing, but gradually I recovered. I looked round, for I
had called up my courage. My eyes wandered from the judge to the row of
legal gentlemen below him; from them to the well-dressed ladies who sat
in the gallery above; behind me I did not look. I had seen enough, and
my cheeks burnt with shame. At last I looked at my fellow-culprit, who
stood beside me, and his eyes at the same time met mine. He was dressed
in the gaol clothes, of pepper and salt coarse cloth. He was a rough,
vulgar, brutal-looking man, but his eye was brilliant, his complexion
was dark, and his face was covered with whiskers. "Good heavens!"
thought I, "who will ever imagine or credit that we have been
associates?"

The man stared at me, bit his lip, and smiled with contempt, but made no
further remark. The indictment having been read, the clerk of the court
cried out, "You, Benjamin Ogle, having heard the charge, say, guilty or
not guilty?"

"Not guilty," replied the man, to my astonishment.

"You, Philip Maddox, guilty or not guilty?"

I did not answer.

"Prisoner," observed the judge in a mild voice, "you must answer, Guilty
or Not guilty. It is merely a form."

"My lord," replied I, "my name is not Philip Maddox."

"That is the name given in the indictment by the evidence of your
fellow-prisoner," observed the judge; "your real name we cannot pretend
to know. It is sufficient that you answer to the question of whether
you, the prisoner, are guilty or not guilty."

"Not guilty, my lord, most certainly," replied I, placing my hand to my
heart, and bowing to him