it not be a violation
of that principle to give them food or shelter? Must not every loyal and
just man wish to see them, in the words of the famous Golden Bull,
'always poor and necessitous, and for ever accompanied by the infamy of
the father, languishing in continued indigence, and finding their
punishment in living, and their relief in dying?' If the widowed mother
should carry the orphan heir of her unfortunate husband to the gate of
any man who himself touched with the sad vicissitude of human affairs,
might feel a compassionate reverence for the noble blood that flowed in
his veins, nobler than the royalty that first ennobled it, that, like a
rich stream, rose till it ran and hid its fountain--if, remembering the
many noble qualities of his unfortunate father, his heart melted over
the calamities of the child--if his heart swelled, if his eyes
overflowed, if his too precipitate hand was stretched forth by his pity
or his gratitude to the excommunicated sufferers, how could he justify
the rebel tear or the traitorous humanity? One word more and I have
done. I once more earnestly and solemnly conjure you to reflect that the
fact--I mean the fact of guilt or innocence which must be the foundation
of this bill--is not now, after the death of the party, capable of being
tried, consistent with the liberty of a free people, or the unalterable
rules of eternal justice; and that as to the forfeiture and the ignominy
which it enacts, that only can be punishment which lights upon guilt,
and that can be only vengeance which breaks upon innocence."

* * * * *

Curran was one day setting his watch at the Post Office, which was then
opposite the late Parliament House, when a noble member of the House of
Lords said to him, "Curran, what do they mean to do with that useless
building? For my part, I am sure I hate even the sight of it." "I do not
wonder at it, my lord," replied Curran contemptuously; "I never yet
heard of a _murderer_ who was not afraid of a _ghost_."

LORD CLARE.

One day when it was known that Curran had to make an elaborate argument
in Chancery, Lord Clare brought a large Newfoundland dog upon the bench
with him, and during the progress of the argument he lent his ear much
more to the dog than to the barrister. This was observed at length by
the entire profession. In time the Chancellor lost all regard for
decency; he turned himself quite aside in the most material part of th