story, as well as to the defendant's recognition of him by
name as an old friend. The Luie episode, terminating in the
identification of that infamous witness as an habitual criminal and
convict named Lundgren, only recently released on a ticket-of-leave,
together with the complete disproof of his elaborate "Osprey" story,
is familiar to the public. It was a significant fact, that other
witnesses for the defence were admitted to be associates of this
rascal; while one of the most conspicuous of all--a man calling
himself "Captain" Brown--had pretended to corroborate portions of
Luie's evidence which are now proved to be false.

Some allowance may perhaps be made in the defendant's favour for the
singularly unskilful and damaging character of his counsel Dr.
Kenealy's two addresses to the jury, which occupied no less than
forty-three entire days. This barrister not only made violent personal
attacks on every witness of importance for the prosecution, without,
as the judges observed, "any shadow of foundation," but he assailed
his own client with a vehemence and a persistence which are without
parallel in the case of an advocate defending a person against a
charge of perjury. He gave up statements of the defendant at almost
every period of his extraordinary story as "false;" declared them to
be "moonshine;" expressed his conviction that no sensible person could
for a moment believe them; acknowledged that to attempt to verify them
in the face of the evidence, or even to reconcile them with each
other, would be hopeless; set some down as "arrant nonsense,"
denounced others as "Munchausenisms," and recommended the jury "not to
believe them" with a heartiness which would have been perfectly
natural in the mouth of Mr. Hawkins, but which, coming from counsel for
the defence, was, as one of the learned judges remarked, "strange
indeed." But the doctrine of the learned gentleman was, that the very
extent of the perjury should be his client's protection, because it
showed that he was not a man "to be tried by ordinary standards."
When, in addition to this, he laboured day after day to persuade the
jury that Roger Tichborne was a drunkard, a liar, a fool, an undutiful
son, an ungrateful friend, and an abandoned libertine--declared in
loud and impassioned tones that he would "strip this jay of his
borrowed plumes," and indignantly repudiated the notion that the man
his client claimed to be had one single good quality about him, t