When it is done by persons whose own lives are full of pretending to be better than their neighbors, and who take that particular form of zeal for God which consists in putting the criminal law in force against somebody else--that does not, in many people's minds, create a sympathy with the prosecutor, but rather with the defendant.

There is no doubt that will be so; and if they should be men--I don't know anything about these persons--but if they should be men who enjoy the wit of Voltaire, and who do not turn away from the sneer of Gibbon, but rather relish the irony of Hume--one's feelings do not go quite with the prosecutor, but one's feelings are rather apt to sympathise with the defendants.

It is still worse if the person who takes this course takes it not from a kind of rough notion that God wants his assistance, and that he can give it--less on his own account than by prosecuting other--or if it is mixed up with anything of a partisan or political nature.

Then it is impossible that anything can be more foreign from one's notions of what is high-minded, religious and noble.

Indeed, I must say it strikes me that anyone who would do that, not for the honor of God, but for his own purposes, is entitled to the most disdainful disapprobation that the human mind can form." Some of the orthodox Tory journals censured Lord Coleridge for these scathing remarks, but his lordship is not easily frightened by anonymous critics, and it is probable that, if he ever has to try another case like ours, he may denounce the prosecutors in still stronger language if their motives are so obviously sinister as were those of Sir Henry Tyler.
There was a great crowd of people outside the Mansion House on Tuesday morning, May 11, and we were lustily cheered as we entered.