The assizes had at length arrived. Mr. Baron Garrow had arrived and opened his commission. Mr. Woodburn’s case, as it occurred immediately after the midsummer assizes, was the first on the calendar. Vast was the excitement connected with it. The singular mystery of the affair, the character and position of the prisoner, were circumstances sure to awake a most lively interest. The town was crowded by people from all parts of the country round, and the county court was filled in a few minutes to repletion. Most of the families of distinction of the county and town were in the galleries. We will not go at great length into the details of the trial. Mr. Sergeant Giffard was the counsel for the crown against Mr. Woodburn, and he was defended by his old friend, Mr. Balguy of Derbyshire. Sir Henry Clavering had entreated him to have other and very celebrated counsel from London, but Mr. Woodburn steadily refused. He said, “No, he had perfect reliance on his friend Balguy; though he practised only as a provincial barrister, he was a man of the soundest judgment, one who had known him all his life, and could speak personally to his character. Besides, he would not have it imagined for a moment that his case required the subtle lights and arts of a brilliant oratory. He wanted merely a plain statement of plain facts.” When Mr. Woodburn was brought in and placed in the dock, there was a silence like death throughout the court. The sensation was profound. He was attended by his son and Sir Henry Clavering, who were accommodated at each side of the dock; so that they could encourage him, and communicate for him with his counsel, seated just under him. Mr. Woodburn looked calm, but somewhat pale, and his intelligent, thoughtful, and amiable aspect was anything but that of a murderer. “That man,” said many a lady to her friend near her, “never committed a murder.” “No,” some gentleman replied, “one would not think it; but one cannot tell what a growing animosity may stir a man to, in some unguarded moment.”