ilty associates.

Except for special peremptory reasons, I never passed sentence until I
had reconsidered the case and informed my own mind, to the best of
my ability, as to what was the true magnitude and character of the
offence I was called upon to punish.

The effect of such deliberation was that I often mitigated the
punishment I had intended to inflict, and when I had proposed my
sentence I do not remember ever feeling that I had acted excessively
or done injustice. I am now quite certain that no sentence can be
properly awarded unless after such consideration. I speak, of course,
only of serious crimes.

It has more than once happened that even after all the evidence in the
case was before the jury, as was supposed, I have discovered that an
accused man, in _mitigation of sentence_, has pleaded that which would
have been a _perfect defence to the charge made against him_! One
of these instances was very remarkable. It happened at some country
racecourse.

A man was charged with robbing another who was in custody in charge
of the police for "welshing." The prisoner had undoubtedly, while the
prosecutor, as I will call him, was in custody, and being led along
the course, rushed up to him, after jumping the barriers, and put
his hand in his coat-pocket, pulling out his pocket-book and other
articles. He then made off, but was pursued by the police and
arrested. He was indicted for the robbery, and the facts were
undisputed.

There was no defence set up, and I was about to ask the jury for their
opinion on the case, which certainly had a very extraordinary aspect.

Suddenly the prisoner blurted out, as excusing himself,--

"Well, sir, _he asked me to take the things_. I was a stranger to him,
and the mob was turning his pockets inside out and ill-treating him
for welshing."

I immediately asked the prosecutor, "Is that true?" and he answered,
"Yes." The prisoner said, "I only did it to protect his things for
him."

Of course I instantly stopped the case and directed an acquittal.
I then gave both parties a little advice. To the prosecutor (the
welsher) I said, "Don't go welshing any more;" and to the prisoner,
"If you ever again see a welsher in distress, don't help him."

I should like to say one word more. It should not be supposed that
a man, when sentenced, is altogether bad because he uses insulting
language to the Judge. He may not be utterly bad and past all hope of
redemption on that account.