st
against that foolish, however ancient, rule in our criminal law, which
discourages and rejects the slenderest approach to a confession, while
it has sacrificed many an innocent victim to the uncertainty of
evidence, supported by nothing more safe than outward circumstantials."

At length, and after much gesticulation and protestation, Mr. Sharp has
succeeded; he had apparently innoculated the miserable man with hopes;
for the miscreant now said firmly, "I plead not guilty."

* * * * *

The briefless one looked happy--nay, triumphant: Jennings was a wealthy
man, all knew; and, any how, he should bag a bouncing fee. How far such
money was likely to do him any good, he never stopped to ask. "Money is
money," said Philip Sharp and the Emperor Vespasian.

We need not trouble ourselves to print Mr. Sharp's very flashy, flippant
speech. Suffice it to say, that, not content with asserting vehemently
on his conscience as a Christian, on his honour as a man, that Simon
Jennings was an innocent, maligned, persecuted individual; labouring,
perhaps, under mono-mania, but pure and gentle as the babe new-born--not
satisfied with traducing honest Ben Burke as a most suspicious witness,
probably a murderer--ay, _the_ murderer himself, a mere riotous ruffian
[Ben here chucked his cap at him, and thereby countenanced the charge],
a mere scoundrel, not to say scamp, whom no one should believe upon his
oath; he again, with all the semblance of sincerity, accused, however
vainly, Roger Acton: and lastly, to the disgust and astonishment of the
whole court, added, with all acted appearances of fervent zeal for
justice, "And I charge his pious daughter, too, that far too pretty
piece of goods, Grace Acton, with being accessory to this atrocious
crime after the fact!"

There was a storm of shames and hisses; but the judge allayed it,
quietly saying,

"Mr. Sharp, be so good as to confine your attention to your client; he
appears to be quite worthy of you."

Then Mr. Sharp, like the firm just man immortalized by Flaccus, stood
stout against the visage of the judge, sneered at the wrath of citizens
commanding things unjust, turned to Ben Burke minaciously, calling him
"_Dux inquieti turbidus Adriae_" [as Burke had heard this quotation, he
thought it was about the "ducks" he had been decoying], and altogether
seemed not about to be put down, though the huge globe crack about his
ears. After this, he calmly w