Every drop of blood in my body rushed into my forehead; the court, the
windows, and the faces, whirled round and round, and I fell senseless on
the floor of the dock.
* * * * *
I next recollect some room or other in the gaol, Mackaye with both my hands
in his; and the rough kindly voice of the gaoler congratulating me on
having "only got three years."
"But you didn't show half a good pluck," said some one. "There's two on 'em
transported, took it as bold as brass, and thanked the judge for getting
'em out 'o this starving place 'free gracious for nothing," says they."
"Ah!" quoth the little attorney, rubbing his hands, "you should have seen
* * * * and * * * * after the row in '42! They were the boys for the Bull
Ring! Gave a barrister as good as he brought, eh, Mr. Mackaye? My small
services, you remember, were of no use, really no use at all--quite ashamed
to send in my little account. Managed the case themselves, like two
patriotic parties as they were, with a degree of forensic acuteness,
inspired by the consciousness of a noble cause--Ahem! You remember, friend
M.
Pages:
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671