nty to console you.'

'So I do. Duty! duty! England expects that every man----'

'That's your idea of consolation, is it?' And away went the camp-stool
half a yard.

'You believe in duty, don't you, Jemima?'

'In a husband's duty to his wife, I do;--and in a young man's duty to
his sweetheart.'

'And in a father's to his children.'

'That's as may be,' said she, getting up and walking away into the
kitchen-garden. He of course accompanied her, and before they got to the
house had promised her not to sigh for the delights of Sydney, nor for
the perils of adventure any more.

Chapter LIV

Judge Bramber

A secretary of State who has to look after the police and the
magistrates, to answer questions in the House of Commons, and
occasionally to make a telling speech in defence of his colleagues, and,
in addition to this, is expected to perform the duties of a practical
court of appeal in criminal cases, must have something to do. To have to
decide whether or no some poor wretch shall be hanged, when, in spite of
the clearest evidence, humanitarian petitions by the dozen overwhelm him
with claims for mercy, must be a terrible responsibility. 'No, your
Majesty, I think we won't hang him. I think we'll send him to penal
servitude for life;--if your Majesty pleases.' That is so easy, and
would be so pleasant. Why should any one grumble at so right royal a
decision? But there are the newspapers, always so prone to
complain;--and the Secretary has to acknowledge that he must be strong
enough to hang his culprits in spite of petitions, or else he must give
up that office. But when the evidence is not clear, the case is twice
more difficult. The jury have found their verdict, and the law intends
that the verdict of a jury shall be conclusive. When a man has been
declared to be guilty by twelve of his countrymen,--he is guilty, let
the facts have been what they may, and let the twelve have been ever so
much in error. Majesty, however, can pardon guilt, and hence arises some
awkward remedy for the mistakes of jurymen. But an unassisted Majesty
cannot itself investigate all things,--is not, in fact, in this country
supposed to perform any duties of that sort,--a Secretary of State is
invested with the privilege of what is called mercy. It is justice
rather that is wanted. If Bagwax were in the right about that
envelope,--and the reader will by this time think that he was right; and
if Dick Shand had sworn truly, th