to bear on future trials.

The King also, who had lain passive during the first burst of popular
fury, was now beginning to bestir himself, which produced a marked
effect on the conduct of the Crown Counsel, and even the Judges. Sir
George Wakeman had been acquitted in spite of Oates's direct testimony;
and public attention was strongly excited concerning the event of the
next trial; which chanced to be that of the Peverils, father and son,
with whom, I know not from what concatenation, little Hudson the dwarf
was placed at the bar of the Court of King's Bench.

It was a piteous sight to behold a father and son, who had been so long
separated, meet under circumstances so melancholy; and many tears were
shed, when the majestic old man--for such he was, though now broken with
years--folded his son to his bosom, with a mixture of joy, affection,
and a bitter anticipation of the event of the impending trial. There was
a feeling in the Court that for a moment overcame every prejudice and
party feeling. Many spectators shed tears; and there was even a low
moaning, as of those who weep aloud.

Such as felt themselves sufficiently at ease to remark the conduct
of poor little Geoffrey Hudson, who was scarcely observed amid the
preponderating interest created by his companions in misfortune, could
not but notice a strong degree of mortification on the part of that
diminutive gentleman. He had soothed his great mind by the thoughts of
playing the character which he was called on to sustain, in a manner
which should be long remembered in that place; and on his entrance, had
saluted the numerous spectators, as well as the Court, with a cavalier
air, which he meant should express grace, high-breeding, perfect
coolness, with a noble disregard to the issue of their proceedings. But
his little person was so obscured and jostled aside, on the meeting of
the father and son, who had been brought in different boats from the
Tower, and placed at the bar at the same moment, that his distress and
his dignity were alike thrown into the background, and attracted neither
sympathy nor admiration.

The dwarf's wisest way to attract attention would have been to remain
quiet, when so remarkable an exterior would certainly have received in
its turn the share of public notice which he so eagerly coveted. But
when did personal vanity listen to the suggestions of prudence?--Our
impatient friend scrambled, with some difficulty, on the top of the
benc