If this is in the least degree true, it is a matter for profound regret. In spite of temper, pain, or indigestion, the balance of justice ought to be fairly held. I am glad to think that I have sometimes known pain and suffering to have the opposite effect when judgment has been given. A magistrate of my acquaintance, noted for good temper and courteous urbanity, was one morning in a very unpleasant frame of mind. Everything went wrong with him, and, as a consequence, with everyone who had to deal with him. He was cross, peevish, and rude. The police knew it, for he was not civil to them; witnesses knew it, for he was rough with them. On one occasion when he had been at his worst he caught my eye. After the court was over he said to me: "You thought me very ill-tempered this morning?" "Indeed I did, your Worship, for you were rough to everyone." "Ah!" he said, "I have neuralgia frightfully; I have had no sleep all night." I said: "I am very sorry, your Worship; but I noticed another thing." "What was that?" "Why, you let all the prisoners down lightly." "Oh," he said, "you noticed it, did you? I had to let myself go sometimes, for I could hardly bear it, so I let go when it did not matter very much; but I kept a tight hand over myself when it came to sentences. I was determined that the prisoners should not suffer for my neuralgia." He was wise, and he did nobly. It would be well if all our judges and magistrates kept a tight hand on themselves when it comes to sentences; for everyone must admit a cruel wrong is done when prisoners are awarded heavier sentences because the judge is either in ill-health or out of temper. CHAPTER VI DISCHARGED PRISONERS