The morning of the trial came, dark and threatening, with snow that wrapped the city as in a winding sheet, which befitted well a day so pregnant with all ill. We were at the Castle gates betimes, and yet the entrance to the Court was besieged with those like ourselves furnished with a permit to view the trial. My inches stood me in good stead, and by dint of good play with my elbows, I made way through the crowd for those that companied me. It seemed to me that all the ways that led to the Court were held by troops, and men stood to their arms on the very steps and to the great doors of the Hall of Justice. Faith hung trembling upon my arm, but craned her neck nevertheless to see the gallant show when the judges drew up, clad in crimson robes, with the sheriff and his chaplain by their sides, the heralds blaring their trumpets and the soldiers grounding their arms to make the pavement ring. We made our way into the little Court and gazed upon the arms of England fixed high above the judgment seat, and when we saw the wigged gentlemen below the Bench rise to their feet we rose too, and when they bowed we bowed too, but the judges, tho' they bent their heads to the gentlemen of the long robe, took scant enough notice of our reverences, which methinks was neither in keeping with the civility that man owes to man nor yet in accord with our constitution: for if the judges draw their dignity from the Crown, whence, I ask, does the Crown derive its title and its lustre? But alas! the people of this country, even yet, are little conscious of their own strength and of what is due to the commons even from their princes and governors. "Which is Mr. Brougham?" I asked my father, who I knew had heard him speak at a great meeting of the Whig voters. "Him that Mr. Blackburn's speaking to," answered my father, and I followed his eyes to the attorney's well and saw a little man, sallow and clean shaven, with a long lean face, something like a monkey's with its skin turned, to parchment. "What him?" I whispered in amaze. "Aye, that's him sure enough." "What! the great Brougham, our Brougham?" "Yes, yes," said my father testily. "He's not much to look at; but yo' should hear him talk." But soon there was a hush in Court. The prisoners were being brought into the dock, and the Cryer was calling his quaint "Oyez."