Before the regular business commenced, I asked his lordship (it was indeed Justice North) to postpone our trial until the next sessions, on the ground that, as my application for a _certiorari_ was only decided the day before, there had been no time to prepare an adequate defence.

His lordship refused to grant us an hour for that absurd purpose.

Directly I sat down Mr.Poland arose, and begged that our trial might be deferred until the morrow, as his leader, Sir Hardinge Giffard, was obliged to attend elsewhere.

This request was granted with a gracious smile and a bland, "Of course, Mr.Poland." What a spectacle! An English judge refusing a fellow-citizen a single hour for the defence of his liberty and perhaps his life, and granting a delay of twenty-four hours to enable a brother lawyer to earn his fee! I spent the rest of that day in preparations for the morrow--writing out directions for Mr.Wheeler in case I should be sent to prison, arranging books and documents, and leaving messages with various friends; and I sat far into the night putting together finally the notes for my defence.

I was quite cool and collected; I neglected nothing I had time for, and I was dead asleep five minutes after I laid my head on the pillow.