George Mellor, William Thorpe and William Smith stood there, heavily ironed and guarded by armed warders, confronting the judges and the jury, arraigned for that they did feloniously, wilfully, and of their malice aforethought kill and murder William Horsfall, against the peace of our lord the king, his crown and dignity. The jurors were sworn, the challenges allowed, the indictment read by the Clerk of Arraigns, and the prisoners given in charge to the jury, the clerk gabbling the words as I have heard a curate in a hurry read the lessons in Church. "How say you, George Mellor--guilty or not guilty," and George with a voice that did not falter and a look upon judges and the jury that did not flinch, cried "Not Guilty." I had eyes and ears only for him, neither then nor to the end. Thorpe and Smith might not have been there, for me. I kept my eyes fixed on him throughout, nor missed one single movement of his nervous fingers that clutched the rails of the dock, nor one glance of his eye. Nay, even now, right through the years, I can see the curl of his lips when Benjamin Walker with craven look and uncertain step, his eyes shifting, his voice whining, stumbled into the witness-box. All through, I had eyes, I say, only for George. When Mr. Park, the counsel for the Crown, addressed the jury, I scarce listened; I watched only George's face, and judged rather what was said by the play of his pale features than by ought I gathered from the long speech to the jury. And right through that weary trial, that lasted from nine o'clock of the morning till near the same hour of the night, never was there a moment that George bore himself save as those who loved him would have him. He almost looked at times as tho' he did not hear what passed around him, his eyes being fixed, not upon the judge but beyond him, with a far away gaze as tho' scenes were acting in a theatre none but he could see, and which concerned him more than what passed around. Once when his eyes ranged the faces that thronged the Court, and he saw our little group, a look of recognition passed upon his face, and he smiled faintly, with quivering lips; but presently turned away his head and glanced our way no more. Only when Ben Walker stood in the box did he rouse himself to the full, and he looked the slinking wretch straight in the face with curling lip: and Walker blanched and tottered and half raised his hand as tho' to ward off a blow. My God! rather would I raise my naked face to meet ten thousand blows from an iron hand than meet such a look as George cast upon that perjured miscreant. A low hiss went through the Court, a sibilation of hatred and contempt; and even the counsellor that examined the man did not conceal his loathing. We looked for Mr. Brougham to cross-examine Walker, but that was done by Mr. Hullock, whether that Mr. Hullock was the senior counsel and took this part as of right, or that, as some had it afterwards, Mr. Brougham knew from the