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CHAPTER XXIX.

OLDHAM INQUEST—REPORTERS EXCLUDED—PETER FINNERTY—CONDY, ROSS, AND OTHERS—AUTHOR CORRESPONDS WITH THE PRESS.

I SHALL not pretend to enter into anything like a general history of those times, but shall content myself with stating events which more or less affected my own concerns.  The inquest on John Lees, at Oldham, commonly called the Oldham inquest, was the next transaction of importance, as connected with our unfortunate meeting.  I was without work, and so I put a pencil and some paper into my pocket and went to Oldham, with a view to copy such parts of the evidence as, in my opinion, might be useful in the ensuing trial in which I should have to take a share.  The inquest was held in the large room of the Angel Inn.  The reporters for several London journals had been put out of the room for persisting in furnishing daily reports contrary to the coroner's order, and a rather strict supervision was held over the other reporters, both for the London and provincial press, lest they should trespass in like manner; a few reporters only were therefore admitted, and I took my seat beside them, and noted down very expertly, for a first effort, a good deal of the evidence which was given on that day.  At one time there was a general clearing out amongst the reporters—several had got in, and were taking notes as usual; the coroner therefore ordered them out, and Mr. Barnes, editor of the Times, Mr. Ross, and Mr. Condy were expelled, as was also Mr. Finnerty, of the Morning Chronicle.  The coroner asked who I was, and on my explaining to him my motive for attending and taking notes, he said no more, and I remained one of the privileged few.  A short time before this, whilst perambulating the streets of Manchester in search of work, I was going down Bridgewater Place, when a gentleman threw up a window of the Bridgewater Inn, then the head inn of the town, and called me by name.  It was Mr. Pearson, our attorney, and he, finding I was at liberty for a short time, asked me in and introduced me to Mr. Finnerty, who was stopping there; and thus I became personally known to that rather remarkable man.  I had previously learned somewhat of his history from several passages in "Cobbett's Register."  He had suffered under the government of Castlereagh in Ireland, had been convicted of a libel in England, and had gone through a long imprisonment for it in Lincoln Castle.

    When I came out of the room at the inquest Mr. Finnerty, profiting by his accidental knowledge of me, asked me into a room, and with much ease and perfect self-possession—in neither of which was he seldom deficient—he inquired what I had been doing at the inquest, and on my producing my notes he slapped me on the shoulder, and continued, "Ah! Bamford, my dear fellow, you must let me have the loan of those notes.  You will, I know—won't you, now?" I said I could not spare them; they would be of service to me on my trial.  "Ah! and is it the thrial you're dreaming about?  Niv'r disthress yourself on that account, man: you'll all be well taken care of.  Why, isn't there Harmer here, and Pearson, our friend, and Hunt, himself a host?  Ah! my dear friend, you needn't be bothering your head about the thrial yit.  You could let me have the notes, you know, and get them back in print—they'll do you honner, boy! and, hear ye now, I'll pay you for your throuble."  I refused to part with my notes, to the evident chagrin and disappointment of my new friend, who eyed me with his peculiar owl-like squint and paraded to and fro in fretful mood.  I, however, kept my writings, and went home; and in a day or two I received a note requesting me to call on him at the Bridgewater Arms.  I did so, and the result was that I agreed to attend the inquest on his account, and to furnish him with notes and verbal communications for the Morning Chronicle.  I accordingly attended at Oldham during several days, and afterwards at the Star Inn, Manchester, until the proceedings were quashed on the alleged ground of an improper interference with the jury.  And thus commenced my first correspondence with the public press.

    Mr. Hunt, it would seem, had been taken with a horror of Lancashire juries and Lancashire gaols.  Nothing would satisfy him save a removal of the trial to another county, and in accordance with his pressing solicitations myself and the other co-defendants joined him in an application for a removal; and, after a hearing before the judges, the application was acceded to, and the cause ordered for trial at the next Spring Assizes at York.

    Seeing, as I suppose, that I was pretty active with my pen, and had, besides, rather more than a mere countryman's share of ready information, Mr. Finnerty intimated that if I were in London he could procure an engagement for me at the Morning Chronicle office.  Mr. Pearson approved of the idea, and was almost sure that something for my advancement in society would offer if I were only at the metropolis.  Sir Charles Wolseley entirely coincided, but, whether I went to London or not, he should be glad at any rate to have me as his guest during a week or fortnight at Wolseley Bridge.  These flattering prospects determined me, and a day or two after Mr. Finnerty had left Manchester I arrived by the coach at Wolseley Arms Inn, Wolseley Bridge.  During the supper, which the coach passengers took together, a London reporter before mentioned and a tradesman from Manchester, who shortly afterwards became bankrupt, made, as I thought, some too-free allusions to the parts which Sir Charles Wolseley and Mr. Finnerty had been acting in the Manchester affair, and to their political conduct generally.  I remained silent some time, until I perceived a look directed towards me.  I then said it was a pity the two gentlemen they had been making free with were not present, but if they would stop whilst a message was sent to the hall I had no doubt they would soon come over and give the talkers whatever explanation they chose to ask to their face.  My sentiment was approved of by several at the table, and especially by one gentlemanly looking man, who I thought would have been with the other party.  "John," I said to the waiter.  "Yes, sir."  "Can you step to the hall, and—"Coach, gemmen! Coach, coach!" said the driver at the door; and in a trice the two respectable backbiters had left the room, when I and several other of the passengers enjoyed a laugh at their expense.

    The next morning I went over to the hall, and found Finnerty quite comfortably domiciled.  Lady Wolseley was in the straw upstairs, so that Sir Charles had much of his own way below.  Friend Finnerty, now that he had the run of a splendid suite of apartments, attendance of servants, and all hospitalities, was also somewhat changed in his manner.  His place was in the parlour with Sir Charles; mine in the housekeeper's room, with the occasional company of that amiable, respectable, and well-informed lady.  I dined with her in the servants' hall, and took my other meals in her apartment, in company with her, the lady's maid (a joking, smiling, and modest young girl), and a Monsieur something, the French cook.  I lived pretty agreeably amongst my kind-hearted new acquaintance, yet at times I could not prevent gloomy sensations from pressing on my mind.  Finnerty had become quite condescending, for which I could not prevail on myself to feel thankful.  Sir Charles was always kind and affable, without pretension, but still I could not but feel that in his house I was only a very humble guest.  I had read how "an Ayrshire ploughman" had once been deemed good company for a Scottish duchess, but I found that the barriers of English rank were not to be moved by "a Lancashire weaver," though he could say, "I also am a poet," and, quite as much as the Scottish bard, a patriot also.  I lodged at the inn, and often on mornings would I stroll out solitarily to look at the deer on the moorlands.  Those majestic and beautiful animals would toss their proud antlers, gaze a moment in surprise, as if they also knew I was a stranger, and,

    Sometimes I rambled through the town of Rugeley; but I knew not any one there, nor did any one know me, and my visits consequently yielded but little social intercourse.  Often would I saunter through the secluded and quiet village of Colton, but I knew not then that such a man as Walter Savage Landor existed, and if I had I am not certain that I should have ventured to knock at his door.  The little village of College, or Col-edge, with its church, the banks of the Trent, and the grounds about Wolseley Hall, were often the objects of a contemplation which was continually wandering to other scenes.  Several times I went with Monsieur to shoot rabbits, but I killed none, and was more likely to be shot myself; twice I walked across my comrade's fire, and the pellets came peppering about my legs.  I was thinking of other things, wearied, but not ungrateful, out of place, and "out of gearing," as the mechanists would say.  At length the glad morning came when an end was to be put to this.  I was to go with Finnerty to London, with a gig and horse, which Charles Pearson had left at Stafford, I think, on his way down to Lancashire.  Sir Charles made me a present of two pounds; Finnerty took the whip, and bidding good morn to our worthy host, we drove slowly from Wolseley Hall.

    We passed through Rugeley, Mavesyn Ridware (Malvoisin, one of the heroes of "Ivanhoe"), and along a rural country of farmsteads, clustered cottages, and other sights of profitable industry.  I soon thought Finnerty was but an indifferent driver, he could not get the mare to go; he kept lashing, stamping on the bottom of the gig, hissing, and calling "go'long," but the tit did not quit the ground.  She would trot a little down a slope or on a short level; but there was no speed nor any continuation.  I often got out to ease her on the ascents, for I did not like to have my weight lashed out of her, but still there was little amendment; she could not get to a pace much more keep one; in fact she spoke by her manner, as plainly as a dumb beast could speak,  "I cannot do it, gentlemen,—I would freely, if I could, but I have not the work in me.  I am done, I am old!"  I soon framed this address for her in my mind, and repeated it to my fellow traveller, who said it was not so; she had been starved by some rascally ostler, and a warm mash or two would bring her round.  He, however, withheld his whip rather more, until her pace became a creep, when again he would give her a cut or two, stamp, hiss, and lash again, and make up the lost lashes by as many imprecations against the "scoundrelly ostlers."  I was right, however; had she been fit for work it is not likely that Charles Pearson would have left her.

    I began to be amused by the manner of my fellow traveller, and I thought better of him for laying the blame anywhere save on the dumb beast.  I soon found that he wished me to be a useful companion on the road that is, a kind of half cad, and half comrade; and, as I really thought he had much goodness at heart, I felt disposed to humour him in all his bearable caprices.

    At Litchfield, Finnerty spent an hour in looking at the cathedral, whilst I looked after the mare at the inn.  At Birmingham, which we reached tardily, we dined, gave the mare a good feed; and after resting two hours my friend, unexpectedly by me, gave the word to proceed, and, with reluctance on my part, for I thought the beast had done enough for that day, we went on to some road-side inn, about nine miles further, where we got down and the jaded thing was released and put into a warm stable.  On looking over the luggage, it was discovered that a new silk umbrella, which Finnerty had bought at Manchester, was missing.  He went into a passion, and stormed with all the wordiness and gesticulation for which his countrymen are remarkable; whilst I, sometimes provoked, sometimes amused, sat coolly and smoked a pipe until supper was ready.  He laid all the blame on me; he expected I would have seen that the luggage was safe; he had trusted all to me, and was thus disappointed, like a fool as he was, for troubling himself about other people's welfare.  He was sure it had been left at Birmingham, and it was my neglect in not putting it in the gig; and then again he repeated what it had cost him—two pounds, I think.

    When I could get a word in, I reminded him of its being in his hand at a certain part of the road we had just come, on which he acknowledged that it was so; but he said he put it in on my side, and I, no doubt, had suffered it to slip down by the apron.  I was of the same opinion, that it had slipped out of the gig, but I defended myself from all blame as to its loss, proffering, however, to go back in the morning, and see if I could find it.  This rather pacified him, and we got supper, but his philosophy had been too sorely tested, and when we parted for the night he was in very bad humour.  I got up early next morning, and went back on the road about four miles, looking at every rut by the way, but nothing could I see of the umbrella; as I returned I inquired at several places, but nothing could I hear of it.  He was at breakfast when I got to the inn, and on making known the bad result of my search the "fat was in the fire" again, and we yoked up, and went forward mutually dissatisfied.

    At Stratford-on-Avon he had come to a little, for I also had been knitting my brows.  He went to see Shakespeare's monument, and I the house in which the poet resided, a dilapidated place, the walls covered with the names of persons who had visited, and I added mine.

    At an ascent betwixt Stratford and Shipton, I must drive and Finnerty would walk, for the once.  He got out encumbered with his top and box coats, and began to ascend a narrow track which I saw would lead him from the road, and not to it again; as he had not, however, of late, paid much respect to my opinions, I thought I might as well not obtrude them just at that moment, and so I kept moving forward, leaning on the gig-side, and keeping an eye towards my blusterous friend.  He mounted to some height, when, looking up, he perceived his dilemma, and then, with a twist and a jerk, expressive of impatience, he descended the way he had gone up.  I laughed until tears came into my eyes, and had with difficulty composed myself, when he having hallooed as loud as he could, and I having stopped, he came up puffing and perspiring, and so we went on.

    At Shipton we learned that a coach would pass through the town that night for Oxford, and Finnerty took a sudden, and to me a happy, resolution to proceed by it, leaving me to bring the horse and gig the day following to the Mitre Inn, at Oxford.  He intimated that he had a particular engagement to be there next morning; and thus, for the present, I lost the society of my troublesome, querulous, but sometimes amusing companion.

    It was a fine morning when, leaving Shipton, I urged the old tit gently on the road to the great seat of learning.  Every nook, dell, and hill was new to me; and the men, the women, the children, and the houses were objects for continual observation.  The mare had it pretty much her own way; her load was lighter, and she went trotting when she listed, and walked when she had a right to do—namely, uphill, and it was only when I detected her absolutely crawling that I touched her with the whip.  At Chapel House, a large posting establishment, we both breakfasted, and then went on, through Eustone, Kiddington, and to Woodstock, the scene of the tale of Fair Rosamond, which had deeply interested me when a boy.  At a respectable looking public house, where I stopped, I endeavoured to learn whether there was any tradition as to the probable site of the famous bower of the unfortunate beauty, but the people knew nothing respecting it, I heard enough about Blenheim and its duke, but I should not feel justified in repeating what they said, and the less so because the persons with whom I conversed were strangers to me, and neighbours to the nobleman, and therefore the more likely to remember his failings, and forget his commendable parts.

    On entering Oxford I was struck by the noble and venerable appearance of many of its buildings, which I concluded in my own mind must be its churches and colleges.  The streets were occupied by a numerous and very respectable looking population, and I was not long in descrying, by the peculiarity of their dress, some of those fortunate and ingenious youths who, "born with silver spoons in their mouths," are, as we are taught to believe, "designed by a wise providence," and are certainly permitted by a wise people (?) to spoon up the riches and superfluities, which else would, by their very grossness, render said people lull of intellect, and sluggish in action; and yet I didn't think the young fellows looked like "spoonies."

    Having been directed to the Mitre Inn, I drove thither, and resigned the horse and gig to the ostler, with a charge to look well to the former.  I then inquired at the bar for Mr. Finnerty, and was shown into a very smart room upstairs, where a plain-featured lady beyond the bloom of life, with a bonnet on, dressed in a florid style, and with a deep pattenshoe on one foot, was caressing a fine child that could run about.  I paused and held back, the lady was surprised.  I apologised and said I understood Mr. Finnerty was there.  She said he was, and asked me to take a seat, he was in another room, and she would go for him, and she went out, taking the child with her.  In a minute I heard my friend's voice as if something was wrong.  He came in, shook my hand, and asked me to take refreshment.  I took some tea and meat, and gave him an account of my pleasant journey.  Whilst we were talking, the same lady with another child entered the room, and almost immediately went out again.  He gave me to understand that the children were his, and that Mrs. Finnerty, himself, and the children, would return to London together.  He asked how I should go, and I told him that I should walk it.  He asked when I should start, and I said I had no connections in Oxford, nor any business to transact, and I saw no reason why I should not set out that night, and had best be making my way.  Of course, he said, if I preferred going, there could be no reason why I should not; he then gave me his address in London, and said I must be sure and call upon him, and he would immediately on his arrival have some conversation with Mr. Perry about me, and he doubted not that Mr. Perry would put something in my way.  I then got up, and taking me by the hand he bade me good-bye, and said I must be sure to see him in London.  I said I would, and repeating his salutation, I came downstairs, and went into the street.

    The shades of evening were closing over the city when I thus adventured to begin my journey.  I had no luggage, save a small bundle and an umbrella, which I threw over my shoulder, and a stout ashen plant in my hand.  I knew not which way to set forth, but went along the street towards the left, until I saw some respectable looking people, of whom I inquired the way to London; and they gave me such directions as enabled me soon to quit the town and strike into the open country.  I continued to walk and it soon became dark, and when night had completely set in, I could scarcely trace the road before me.  I walked, however, briskly, and went a long way without meeting any person, or hearing anything, save now and then the tinkle of a sheep bell.  At length, when I must have left Oxford four or five miles behind, I began to hear noises at a distance on my right, and soon after I saw gleams like those of lights in the windows of a town.  In a short time there were lights before me, and I found they proceeded from a public house, into which I went and asked for some ale, which was brought to me, and was of most excellent quality.  On looking around, I liked the appearance of the house also; the rooms were neatly furnished and clean, the company was apparently respectable, and the people of the house obliging.  I inquired how far it was to the next village, and how the road lay, and they all gave such an account as made me begin to think I had best remain where I was; the people of the house were of the same opinion, and so I took up my quarters there for the night.

    Whilst we were chattering and enjoying ourselves comfortably with our pipes, some young fellows came into the next room, and called for ale.  They were in high glee, and from their conversation, which we could not but hear, we learned that there had been a kind of battle-royal in the village betwixt some of the lads of the place and a party of collegians, and that the latter, after fighting bravely, which they allowed them the merit of generally doing, had been soundly thrashed, and compelled to retreat.  I concluded that it must have been the noise of this row which had saluted my ears on the road.  Some inquiries on my part, elicited an opinion from the company as to the general conduct of the young gentlemen at college, and it certainly, like all other human emanations, had its dark side, as well as its bright one, only rather more of the former, than should be expected, considering they were to become examples to and directors of others.

    They were represented as courageous fighters, generous remunerators, and profuse spenders; all of which most of the company allowed were good English gentlemanly qualities; but then, in their intercourse with those not of their class, they were represented as being arrogant, wilful, and capricious; and too prone to lay on hard when they got the upper hand.

    It was not to be wondered at, said an elderly person who sat on the other side of the room; it was not the young gentlemen's fault, but the fault of their "pa's" and "ma's" at home, and of the institutions of the country.  If Will was schooled to be an officer in the army, would he not begin by trying to domineer over and command all who would submit to him?  If Dick was to have his father's broad acres, how could he better prepare for the enjoyment of them, as things went, than by learning to drink, gamble, and box; by picking up stable slang; and becoming a connoisseur in "dogs, horseflesh, and women"—as they had it—and by an early imitation of that reckless self-willedness which he had seen practised by his class at home?  If James is for the Church, should he not learn to be combative when a boy; inasmuch as he would have to contend against "the world, the flesh," and—another antagonist—and in favour of tithes, preferments, and fat livings? and if Jack was preparing for the navy, what so natural as that he should practise with a bamboo, instead of a rope's-end, on the heads and shoulders of the King's subjects?  Great folks, he said, sent their sons to college, and they came there tainted with the vices of their order, and the follies of their parents: they were here planted thick together like young trees; the rank and worthless dragged the others up; the vicious overshadowed the virtuous, and when they had become noxious or morally withered, they went back into the world, as their fathers had done, to prepare a new race to succeed them.  All allowed that the elderly gentleman's remarks were about the fact; I begged leave to drink his health, the company followed my example, and the conversation then becoming general, and chiefly on rural affairs, I went to bed.

    I rose early; the morning again was as fine as could be desired, and I felt happy at travelling beside broad pastures, with the free wind blowing around me.  I first traversed a level plain, and then went up a rather steep eminence, after which followed a road through woods a long way; all were new and interesting scenes to me.  I walked some twelve or fourteen miles, and then made a hearty breakfast of bread, cheese, and ale, at a neat-looking, road-side public house.  From thence I went on, through High Wycombe and Beaconsfield, where again I stopped a short time.  I could not but admire the cleanness and airiness of the town.  Towards evening I arrived at Uxbridge, and rested, after which I went towards London, and had gone some miles in the dark and rain, when a stage coach overtook me, and I mounted, and was set down at the "Bolt-in-Tun," Fleet Street, where, perhaps, it is unnecessary to say that I received very civil treatment, and stopped for the night.

 
CHAPTER XXX.

MR. HUNT—SIR RICHARD PHILLIPS—AUTHOR'S PETITIONS TO PARLIAMENT—EARL GROSVENOR, AND HIS HOUSE AT GROSVENOR PLACE.

THE morning after my arrival I went to the warehouse of a friendly tradesman in Cheapside to look after some clothes, and other requisites, which I had directed to be sent after me, and I found all safe.  I next went and took private lodgings, and then sought out Mr. Hunt, whom I found at the house of one Giles, a bread-baker, in Wyche Street, Strand.  He introduced me to Sir Richard Phillips, and I had, during my stay, many opportunities of conversing with that worthy gentleman and scholar.  He was friendly towards Hunt, but did not like his overbearing manner.  Once, I recollect, when Hunt came, he ordered the footman to say he was not at home, and on observing probably a degree of surprise in my look, he said Mr. Hunt was neither happy himself, nor would he let his friends be so.  They must not only serve him, but they must do it at his own time, in his own manner, and to the extent he wished, or he would quarrel with them.  His earnestness and vehemence he carried with him everywhere, and exhibited on the most trifling occasions; in consequence, he became annoying and oppressive, and his best friends were sometimes compelled to defend themselves by not being at home.  I knew there was too much truth in Sir Richard's representations to blame him greatly for his conclusions, though I must own I did not like my friend Hunt, with all his faults, to be thus dealt with; but Sir Richard said there was no other mode, and he must either shut his door occasionally, or quarrel with him at once, and have done with him.

    I gave Sir Richard my account of the Manchester affair, and at his suggestion, and under his care, petitions to the Houses of Lords and Commons were drawn up on my behalf, praying an investigation into the whole of the transaction, and offering to prove the allegations of the petitions at the bar of each House.  Both petitions were duly presented, and with the usual result: namely, both were "laid upon the table."

    But, connected with my petition to the Lords, an incident occurred, which, as it affords a glimpse of the great in London, I will narrate.

    Earl Grosvenor was the nobleman selected to present my petition to the House of Lords, and Sir Richard went with me to his mansion, in Grosvenor Place I think it was.  His lordship was not at home, and we were directed to call on a certain day.  It happened that Sir Richard was then engaged, and I went to his lordship myself.  The great burly porter, who wore a rich livery trimmed with gold lace, would scarcely admit me within the door, when he found I had not a letter of introduction.  I explained to him my business with his lordship, but it was of no use, he could not send my message up.  A fine table, with pens and paper, was near the window of the hall, and in my simplicity I made a move towards it, saying I could soon write a note to his lordship, but he said he could not allow me to write there; it was contrary to orders, and would cost him his place if the other servants saw me.  I accordingly bundled out, and went to a tavern and wrote a note, which I took back; the porter then took the note, and told me to come again in about twenty minutes or half an hour.  It was raining, and I had nowhere to go under cover, save the tavern, so I went there again—not much liking, however, this mode of noble housekeeping—and waited with impatience the time for the interview.  I again went, and now the folding doors were thrown open long before I arrived at the steps; the late surly porter received me with a respectful inclination and a smile, saying my note had been sent up, and his lordship would see me.  He then rang a bell, and a servant appeared, to whom the porter announced my name.  The servant asked me to follow him, and he led me into a very grand room, where he left me, saying his lordship would be with me in a few minutes.  I had never seen anything like the richness of this place before, everything seemed almost too sumptuous, and too delicate for a human habitation, and to me it seemed a little museum of curious and costly things, arranged but to look at, and not to use.  There were mirrors, and pictures, and cushions, and carpets glowing like silk; and delicate hangings; and curtains, as fine as gossamer in summer; then the tables shone like glass, and the chairs, with their high cushions trussed up, quite tempted one to sit.  Well, I stood looking about me some time, and no one appeared, and at last I thought, "I'll sit down at any rate; if his lordship should come in, he cannot be so greatly offended at one taking a seat in his house."  So I sat down, and was quite surprised; I almost sank to my elbows in the soft downy cushion, and immediately jumped up again, thinking those seats could never really be meant for human bones to rest upon, and I would not for the world have been taken by his lordship sitting there, with the cushion up to my elbows like a puff of soap suds.  I began to make the thing right again, and was so busied, when I heard a slight creaking noise; immediately I resumed my posture of attention, and a tall, gentlemanly-looking person, forty or forty-five years of age, dressed in a blue coat with yellow buttons, undoubtedly of gold, entered and accosted me in a very courteous and affable manner, and immediately entered upon the business of my petition.  I addressed him as "my lord," which indeed he was, and told him somewhat about the subject of my petition, which I now showed him, and requested he would be so kind as to present for me to the House of Lords.  He looked at it a few minutes, and said he would present it.  He then questioned me about the state of the country, and particularly of my own neighbourhood, to each of which I gave him brief and true answers, according to the best of my ability.  He then questioned me about our new rector at Middleton, the Rev. John Haughton, and as I was bound in truth, though not at the time over partial to him, I gave his lordship a fair and honourable account of the worthy clergyman, whereat he seemed much pleased.  Soon after I made my final bow, and was myself bowed out by the porter, and so I took my leave of that grand mansion and its immensely rich owner.

    I frequently called to see Sir Richard Phillips, who always advised me to cultivate literature and poetry, as two friends who would be ready to console me at all times, and under all circumstances.  He wished me to write something, in the metrical way, about the Manchester affair, but I never did; it never presented itself, as it were, to me in the form of poetry; it was too overpowering, too brimful of affliction, to be measured in verse.  I made several attempts that way, but it would not do, and I never sought to describe it in any other form until this present publication.  I felt grateful to Sir Richard; he gave me much useful caution and advice as to other matters in London.  He acted the part of a real friend, and was the only professed scholar and literary character to whose acquaintance I can refer with entire satisfaction.

    I called several times at the office of the Morning Chronicle to inquire if Mr. Finnerty was in town, and at last learned that he was so.  I accordingly made my way to a suburb, somewhere west of the town, and following my directions, I knocked at the door of one of a lot of recently constructed edifices at the angle of a square.  The same lady with the patten came to the door, and invited me to walk in, and showed me into a small, neatly furnished room on my right.  Finnerty soon made his appearance, and, after mutual compliments, he asked when I arrived in town, what I had been doing, and such like, all of which I answered.  He seemed, I thought, very mysterious and embarrassed in his manner, did not ask me to sit down or take anything, but at last said, "Would you like a walk round the square, Bamford?"  I, thinking he wished for more private conversation, said I would, and we went out.  We paced once round this place, chatting about indifferent matters, I expecting him to introduce my business with the Morning Chronicle, and at last, on my mentioning it, he did say he had not been able to see Mr. Perry yet.  We had then arrived at the angle from whence we set out, and were opposite his own door, when, giving me his hand, he said, "Good morning, Bamford; I shall be seeing you in town some of these days," and with that he went into the house and shut the door.  I was mute with astonishment; my first impulse was to send the panel in with my foot, but then I thought neither the door nor its owner had done me harm, and at last, consoling myself with the reflection that it was no place for a worthy, honest man, and that I was better out of it than within it, I went away.

    I should not have been much troubled at the sudden termination of this friendship, which I had for some time suspected to be all on my side, had I not, on returning into the city, weary, disappointed, and hungry, found that I must change my last shilling for my dinner.  I had paid several sums on the road for ostlers, baiting, and so forth, before Finnerty left me at Shipton, and I had also paid all the expenses of the journey from Shipton to Oxford, which Finnerty had undertaken to pay, and said he would reimburse on my arrival at the latter place.  I had quite forgotten to mention these matters at Oxford, but now, forced by necessity, I probably should have clone so in a delicate way, had Finnerty, as I expected he would, asked me to take breakfast with him.  But, as I said, they had quite slipped my memory, and friend Finnerty's, too, as it seemed, and now I had the uncomfortable prospect before me of starvation, or a beggarly dependence on the hospitality of friends, neither of which conditions had I anticipated on leaving home.

    Next morning I went to the house of Mr. Pearson, in Aldersgate Street, and stated to him my willingness to try my hand at writing in his office, at terms previously mentioned by him, namely, a guinea a week.  He immediately set me to work at copying, and thus by a word I was metamorphosed from a rude Lancashire rustic into "a limb of the law."  I worked hard until two o'clock, and then went out, not to dine, for I had not wherewith to purchase a dinner.  At four I returned and wrote again until six, and then shut up, and went to my humble lodgings at London Wall.  I did thus for three or four days, getting my breakfast and supper at my lodgings, and going without dinner.  I began to feel unwell; I was cold, shivery, and nervous; I had never been quite well since the night I came drenched into London, and now, feverish as I was, the employment became intolerably irksome.  At length I went to bed, and was so ill next morning I could not rise; I was in a fever, and the agitation of my mind added to the indisposition of my body.

    The next day I went to Mr. Pearson, and told him that I had been ill, and hoped he would excuse me, but I could not bear to sit at the desk.  He readily accepted my apology, and gave me a pound note for what I had done; he also invited me to come to his house that evening and take tea.  I went and met him, his lady, a mild and beautiful young being, and a gentleman who was about to come out "as a phenomenon" at the bar.  The day after I again went to Mr. Pearson's by appointment, when he took me to Peel's coffee-house, and set me to take memoranda from the newspapers, of passages from the addresses made by judges to grand juries on several State prosecutions.  I gave him my notes, and believe I did the work to his satisfaction.

    In a day or two after this I was informed that the London committee for the relief of the sufferers at the Manchester meeting had determined on presenting each of the persons who had been apprehended and held to bail with a sum of money—ten pounds, I believe—as some compensation for their loss of time and the inconvenience they had experienced.  I accordingly went to the counting-house and manufactory of Mr. Alexander Galloway, the treasurer, whose place was then near Holborn, and presented myself for what belonged to me.  He was at his desk writing, and I found him a cool, cautious, methodical man of business.  He was very affable and mild, and I must say reasonable and convincing in his manner.  On my stating who I was and the nature of my visit, he said he was sorry he could not pay me then, as, never having to his knowledge seen me before, he could not be certain that I was the person I represented myself to be, and he wished me to bring some gentleman, or produce a note from some one whom he knew, that I was the same Samuel Bamford who had been arrested and committed to Lancaster Castle.  I mentioned Mr. Hunt, Mr, Harmer, Mr. Wooller, and Mr. Pearson, who I said would instantly verify, could I get to see them, but the afternoon was far worn, and I might not be able to meet with them that night; I, however, had a letter or two of Mr. Hunt's, and one of Major Cartwright's, which I offered to produce.  Those, he said, would not do; they would not show that I was the person to whom they were addressed.  I must confess I was now a little piqued and disappointed, for I was in want of some money for immediate necessaries.  He saw, I thought, that I was hurt, for he begged I would not deem him needlessly cautious, as I must perceive, on reflection, how necessary it was, in a great place like London, to be quite certain as to the persons with whom they contracted business.  He showed me, and he entirely conciliated me by the earnestness with which he did it, that he could not possibly have any wish to withhold the money from the person for whom it was ordered, and all he sought to ascertain was that I really was the person.  I saw and appreciated his motive and his method of exactitude, and left him with the intention of obtaining a note from Mr. Harmer, whose office in Hatton Garden was the nearest place where I could expect to meet the requisite identification.  Mr. Harmer was not within, nor would he be that night, and I gave the matter up until next day, submitting to the rather familiar inconvenience of going to bed dinnerless and supperless.  On the forenoon of the following day I procured the necessary verification, and Mr. Galloway paid me the money, which proved a great present relief, as it enabled me to procure necessaries, and to pay off my lodging and other small accounts.  I afterwards called on Mr. Galloway frequently, in a friendly manner, and at one of these visits I saw Robert Owen, who was then exciting attention by his plans for the amelioration of the condition of mankind; at another visit Major Cochrane was there, an officer who was with the 15th Hussars on the field at the great meeting at Manchester.  Mr. Galloway's counting-house appeared to be frequently resorted to by literary and scientific men of all parties and of all professions.

    My petitions to Parliament had been duly presented, and had appeared, thanks to my friend Sir Richard, in several of the London journals.  They excited some attention, and the committee of the relief fund deemed it proper that similar petitions should be presented by others of the sufferers.  I accordingly, having now no further prospects or business in London, returned to Lancashire, and besides being of some use to Messrs. Hall and Service, who were sent down to select proper objects for relief, I promoted the getting up of petitions praying for inquiry, and when that had been done to a sufficient extent, I found the time at hand when it was necessary that I should begin to look about for evidence to produce at the approaching trial at York.

    On application to my attorney, Mr. Pearson, I received a set of instructions for the collection of evidence.

    Acting under these instructions, I wrote down with my own hand the examinations of about twenty-two witnesses, chiefly resident at Middleton, which examinations were copied literally by Mr. Pearson's clerk, and formed the basis of the defence relative to our proceedings.  I next subpœned my witnesses, and they were requested to meet at the Dog and Partridge public house, at Middleton, at six o'clock in the morning of Monday, the 13th of March, in order that we might all go in a body on foot to York.  On the evening preceding we took supper together, and we were joined by a number of witnesses from Manchester, who preferred to walk with us rather than go by coach.  On mustering, I think we amounted to about three score, of whom probably a dozen were women, who, in high glee, chose to take the road with their relatives and friends.  I should state that Mr. Pearson had placed in my hands a sum of money to pay the expenses, in which I was limited by my own discretion alone; all my plans had been laid before him at Manchester, and he entirely approved of them.  We set forward, therefore, with light hearts; and amid this crowd of faces beaming with hope and the excitement of novelty, I could discover two only which wore a cast of thought and sadness.  My wife and child were, as they always wished to be, with me; they were going with us as far as Rochdale, whence they were to return; my faithful dog, Mora, also went gambolling on before us.  I tried to be cheerful, with a view to promote the same feeling amongst all around me, and I could have succeeded, had I only been concerned; but when I caught my wife turning her head aside to conceal her emotion, and, looking down, met the tearful eye and inquiring look of my child, who held my hand, I could not but experience a pang that brought darkness and uncertainty to my heart, and which I endeavoured to conceal by smiles and consoling words.

    At Rochdale we breakfasted at the Angel Inn, in Blackwater Street, and were there joined by witnesses from Bury and other places, who augmented our numbers to about four score.  After an affectionate parting, full of hope on my side and of sadness on theirs, I left my wife and child to retrace their steps sorrowfully towards home, whilst I went forward, though somewhat thoughtful, amongst my joking, light-hearted companions.  The ascent of Blackstone Edge, "the back-bone of the English Alps," as it has been termed, tried the marching qualities of the women, and by the time we arrived at the top, two of them were fatigued, and went on with a mail coach, which overtook us there.  Their journey by this conveyance was a most unpleasant one; some "gentlemen" from Manchester were also passengers and they used coarse and abusive language towards the females.  The coachman and guard were appealed to for protection, but they only laughed, and, to please the "gemmen," contributed their share of insult.  The women "gave it them," however, told them what they were, and when the coach arrived at Halifax, they got down, and refused to go any further with the unmanly beings.  This conduct we only learned on our arrival at Halifax, and I mention it to show the strong and unworthy feeling which our opponents, even of the class commonly deemed respectable, were wont to indulge in those days.

    Mr. Hunt, with Johnson and Chapman, followed us in a post-chaise, and they were detained a considerable time at Rochdale, in consequence of the landlord at the "Roebuck " Inn, one Marriott, refusing to supply them with fresh horses, on learning who they were.  He was even uncivil to the travellers, but soon found that he was not likely to get anything by that mode of behaviour, and horses having been procured from another house, the journey was proceeded with.

    At Bradford many of the tender-footed men were lame, and I gave them money to go on with as best they could.  Most of the women also had by this time enough of walking for that day, and they availed themselves of such modes of conveyance as were readily attainable; some, however, held out, and walked with us every step of the road to Leeds, where we were hospitably received by the body of reformers, and lodged for the night.  The next morning we made a strong muster, being joined by numbers from Stockport, Hyde, Ashton, Stalybridge, Saddleworth, and other places, and now I believe we mustered about one hundred persons; some of the women, and an equal proportion of the men, were too lame to walk, and were sent forward by carriage; the main body, however, on foot, passed through Tadcaster, and arrived at York in a compact body at night-fall, on Tuesday, the 14th of March.  We were lodged and boarded at a large inn, the "Elephant," I think, on this side the river Ouse.

 
CHAPTER XXXI.

THE MORNING OF OUR TRIAL—PREPARATIONS IN THE COURT—ITS INTERIOR APPEARANCE—WITNESSES—HUNT'S HAT—THE JURY—COUNSEL FOR THE PROSECUTION—ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE DEFENDANTS.

OUR long expected trial, which had excited a strong interest in the public mind, commenced on the morning of Thursday, the 16th day of March, 1820, before Mr. Justice Bayley and a special jury.  At an early hour the court was beset by persons waiting for admission.  At a little before seven o'clock the reporters for the London and provincial press were admitted, and soon after several individuals, principally solicitors, and others connected with provincial newspapers, were admitted into the gallery.  A number of ladies also took possession of a box at the corner of the court, on the right hand of the Bench.  At eight o'clock a more general admission of the public took place, and the front seats in the two galleries were instantly occupied.  A vast number of persons immediately followed, till not one inch of either gallery was left unoccupied.  The box which the day before was reserved for the attorneys was, on this occasion, appropriated for the reception of magistrates, except the front seats, which had become occupied by some London reporters.  In the rush and confusion, however, many had invaded the place who had no claim to seats there.  These were forthwith informed by the officers of the court that they must retire.  The mandate was reluctantly obeyed by some, but others obstinately retained their seats, until they were finally removed by order of the magistrates, when they arrived.

    The number of witnesses put down for the prosecution exceeded eighty; for the defence, one hundred and twenty.

    At a quarter before nine, Hunt, Moorhouse, Saxton, Jones, Wilde, and Healey, went into the court; soon afterwards I and Swift went up and applied for entrance at the common door of the court.  We were informed by the keeper that no more could be admitted, the place being quite full.  We smiled at this, and said we must be admitted, and desired him to open the door; he stoutly refused, and we enjoyed the joke some time, and at last told him who we were, and that we should be wanted, and must take part in the trial.  The man then admitted us, but almost as a favour, and we made our way up an avenue towards the witness box.  Hunt saw us coming, and beckoned us to step over the backs of the seats, which we did, and I was presently by his side.

    I may here remark, that at Manchester, both before and after the meeting, at Lancaster also, and at London, Hunt had uniformly worn a white hat, and it had in consequence become the Radical badge; Johnson had also done the same, but here, before a judge and a jury of their country, they deemed it proper to display the common black hat.  I, however, who never thought it wrong to be the same always and in all places, who saw not anything to be really ashamed of in the colour of my hat, and who would not, just then, have discarded it to please judge, jury, or king, threw it down innocently enough amongst the lawyers' bags and papers, and other hats of a different colour, some of which were the sombre ones of my co-defendants.  There were some looking and smiling at the presumptuous appearance of a Radical hat on that table.  Others of our party, like myself, stuck to their white colours, declaring they would not change them under any circumstances.  I only mention this incident to show a trait of what the world deems prudence, and its judicious exercise, by some of our leaders.

    At nine o'clock Justice Bayley took his seat on the Bench, and immediately the cause of the King against Henry Hunt, Joseph Johnson, John Knight, James Moorhouse, Joseph Healey, John Thacker Saxton, Robert Jones, Samuel Bamford, George Swift, and Robert Wilde was called on.  The names of the persons summoned to act as special jurors were then read.

    At this time the court was most excessively crowded; all the bottom seats and avenues, as well as every inch of standing ground, a passage for the witnesses excepted, were closely occupied.  In each of the galleries the people were packed like bees in a hive, and there was ground for apprehension that the fronts might be forced out.  It was some time before order could be obtained, so eager were persons of all ranks to witness the commencement of this trial.  The jury box had been partly filled by strangers and had to be cleared, and several common jurymen who happened to be in it made a remonstrance to the judge on the hardship of being turned, not only out of that box, but also out of the one which had always been assigned to the waiting juryman.  This circumstance was occasioned by the arrangements which the High Sheriff, Henry Vansittart, Esq., and his subordinate officers had made for the accommodation of the public.  The box usually assigned to the magistrates of the county was this day opened for the reception of the Manchester and Cheshire magistrates; the one usually reserved for attorneys was given up to reporters for the public Press, and the attorneys, being deprived of their usual place in court, went into the jury box, and filled it so entirely as to occasion the remonstrance just mentioned, Justice Bayley said he did not understand the arrangements of the court; the place was now full: if, however, there was any situation to which the waiting juryman had a right he would order it to be cleared and kept for their accommodation; the box was accordingly cleared.

    The jury having been sworn, Mr. Littledale opened the proceedings, and the indictment was read, the substance of which, having been already given, I shall not now repeat.  We, of course, all pleaded "Not Guilty," except John Knight, who, since being bailed out of Lancaster Castle, had again been committed on a subsequent charge for attending a meeting near Burnley.

    Mr. Scarlett, Mr. Serjeant Hullock, Mr. Serjeant Cross, and Mr. Littledale, conducted the prosecution: Mr. Holt was retained for Saxton, and Mr. Barrow for Moorhouse and Jones.  Hunt, Johnson, Wilde, Swift, Healey and myself conducted our several defences and for that purpose we took our places at the barristers' table.  Some conversation ensued respecting this arrangement, and Mr. Hunt expressed his willingness to agree to any other, but the judge decided that every individual conducting his own defence should sit there; the others must take seats behind their counsel.

    Mr. Hunt said he had not been previously aware of the arrangements for the court, and he had therefore invited his co-defendants to the situations they occupied; room, however, would easily be found for them behind the bar, as he intended to move that all the witnesses on both sides (and he knew many were in court) should be ordered out of it.

    Justice Bayley accordingly ordered all the witnesses to withdraw from the court.  Mr. Barrow added, "And out of hearing also."

    The order was immediately complied with; and amongst those who retired were the Rev. W. R. Hay, the Rev. C. W. Ethelstone, Mr. Hulton, Mr. Sylvester, Mr. R. Wright, and several other of the Manchester magistrates, together with a number of gentlemen and tradesmen who had been subpœned as witnesses.  The defendants who had retained counsel also took their places behind them on the seats usually allotted to attorneys, and the very inconvenient pressure in the court was considerably mitigated.

    Immediately under the judge at the straight edge of the table, which was a half-round, sat the counsel for the prosecution already named with their attorneys.  On the judge's left, and occupying the curved edge of the table, were George Swift, Mr. Harmer, of London (who kindly suggested various matters to us), next myself, then Mr. Hunt, Mr. Pearson, Mr. Wilde, Mr. Barrow, Mr. Holt, Mr. Healey and Mr. Johnson—the two latter sitting near the witness box and almost directly in front of the judge.  The further side of the table was occupied by attorneys and others; a number of elegantly dressed females were upon the right and left of the judge and occupying seats below and standing on the floor; the large box behind us, at first assigned to magistrates, and which had been almost filled by those of Lancashire and Cheshire, who vacated it on the order being given for witnesses to retire, was now filled with a crowd of ladies and gentlemen, chiefly, as we understood, residents in the county; many ladies had obtained seats in the body of the hall, and one was observed taking the likeness of the venerable judge as he sat in his robes.

    Mr. Scarlett, after the opening by Mr. Littledale, proceeded to address the jury; but as it would be entirely beyond the scope of this work to give the proceedings of the trial, which have, no doubt, long since been placed amongst the public records, I shall only touch on such passages as concern myself and throw light on my conduct both previous to and during this important investigation.  I shall intersperse such observations with brief remarks upon and descriptions of some things which occurred both in public court and were privately known to ourselves, and shall be content to be judged, so far as my name may be concerned, by the facts which I truthfully narrate.  Mr. Scarlett's description of us should not, however, be omitted.  It was as follows:—

Of Mr. Hunt it was unnecessary that he should say anything, because his name had been so much of late connected with these transactions as to leave no doubt on the mind of any man as to his character and avocations.  The others were obscure; they were very little known, and he should therefore state who they were, premising that they were charged with assembling and inciting others to assemble to disturb the public peace.  John Knight had formerly been in business; his occupation had been latterly that of an itinerant orator.  Joseph Johnson was a brushmaker residing near Manchester, and he believed he also was in the habit of attending public meetings.  Of John Thacker Saxton, all the description which he had was that he was some way or other connected with the office of a newspaper, called the Manchester Observer.  Joseph Healey was represented as an apothecary.  James Moorhouse was a coach-master residing at Stockport, George Swift was a shoemaker at Manchester.  Of Robert Wilde he knew nothing, save that he lived near Ashton-under-Lyne.  Samuel Bamford and Robert Jones were individuals in humble circumstances.  The jury, he said, would find by unquestionable evidence that these persons were connected in some secret design.  He would be able to show the course which the parties took when he called his evidence, and therefore it was not necessary for him at that moment to state the specific acts of each; it would be sufficient to give a general view of their proceedings.

    The learned counsel then indicated the line of accusation he should take against Mr. Hunt especially.  He commenced with the Spitalfields' meeting at London in the June previous, setting forth the resolutions and describing them as illegal.  Mr. Hunt was next traced to Bullock Smithy; [19] thence to Manchester, connecting him with the proposed meeting on the 9th of August.  Then he described the drillings at White Moss and the beating of Murray and his companions.  He showed Mr. Hunt to have been stopping at the house of Johnson, at Smedley, where he said he received the visits of Knight and others of the defendants.  Next he represented the people as marching from all parts on the morning of the 16th of August.  They were, he said, provided with banners and inscriptions, and they marched upon Manchester with all the regularity of an army.  From Rochdale, from Middleton, from Oldham, from Lees, from Stockport, and many other places, parties might be seen marching towards Manchester.  "At Middleton Mr. Bamford was seen placing in marching order a body of two thousand men; they were without uniforms, but he displayed sufficient talent to put them through their evolutions.  He addressed them and gave to each of them a laurel leaf, that they might distinguish one another.  The town of Manchester was, in fact, surrounded by an immense farce, who seemed as if they were going to invade it.  Every road which approached the town was covered with parties marching in military manner, and amongst those who were marching to the town some of the individuals who were seen training at White Moss were recognised.  At eleven o'clock Mr. Hunt and his party were preparing to enter the town from the residence of Johnson.  Mr. Hunt was attended by a triumphant band; the Middleton and Rochdale force had united, they became his guards, and thus surrounded be entered the town of Manchester."

    Next he commented on our banners, and some of his strictures may show the difference betwixt the interpretation of the laws in those days and the present.  I will give a short extract of that part of his address.

    On some of the flags they would find the words, "Equal Representation or Death."  What could be the object of a sentiment such as this?  He would ask the jury to lay their hands on their hearts and say, What good object could those have in view who exhibited a flag bearing such a motto?  They were not met there to discuss whether the present state of the House of Commons was the best that could be imagined.  Good and wise men differed on that point, but, whatever difference of opinion might be entertained on the subject, of this he was sure, that there was no man who considered the question rightly that would not stand by the law and the constitution of the country as they were now administered; and if threatened with violence, that would not resist to the uttermost an attempt to make a forcible alteration of the system.

    Another banner bore the inscription, "No Corn Laws."  He came not before them to discuss whether the law on the subject of corn was good or otherwise; he had his opinions on the question, but it would not be decorous or proper to state them there.  He knew that wise men might sometimes frame a mischievous law, but it was not to be removed by riot and violence.  Would it not be a most dangerous thing to say to a mob of sixty thousand persons, for the purpose of getting rid of such a measure—particularly when the minds of the people were irritated and inflamed—would it not, he asked, be an appeal of a most inflammatory nature, to say to them, "We will have no Corn Laws; we will force the legislature to do as we please."

    Next came the inscription, "Annual Parliaments."  There were no doubt respectable and honourable men in the kingdom, who thought annual parliaments would be very useful; but would any of those individuals say that such a proposition was to be carried by violence, as the sine quâ non of their existence?  Let the people meet to petition for reform—let them submit to Parliament what they think expedient for the public good—and no man can complain.  But was it the business of a public meeting to dictate to Parliament, and to declare that it would effect a certain object, or would have nothing?  The next inscription was "Universal Suffrage and Election by Ballot."  These two points were the pretexts for calling this assembly; he felt considerable surprise that Mr. Hunt did not perceive that those three terms, taken together, meant nothing but the subversion of the Constitution, but as long as these questions were sub judice, what right had any man to say, "we will, in spite of all opposition, have these three things."  To do so was illegal; and it was most unfit that, on the subject of public grievances, the mob should be suffered to dictate to the legislature.  Let them meet and petition; let the weavers and shoemakers and other artisans in this kingdom who are destined to earn their bread by the labour of their hands inform the legislature of the best course to be pursued with respect to public affairs, if they have more wisdom than those by whom such affairs were conducted. The law enabled them to do this; but let not demagogues state to them that these three points were the only things which could be of service to them.  Another inscription was, "Let us die like men, and not be sold like slaves."  Who, he should like to know, had been selling the people of Oldham, of Rochdale, of Middleton, and of the other places, the inhabitants of which went to Manchester on that day?  He never heard of any such sale; but some persons, who did not, perhaps, choose to speak those words, thought fit to place them on a banner.

    Such were some of the constructions which the learned counsel attached to some of our banners and their inscriptions; constructions which, if followed in these days, would place some of the Chartist exhibitors in a rather perilous position.

    Witnesses were now called, who traced Mr. Hunt through Bullock Smithy, Stockport, Heaton Norris, and from Manchester, to Johnson's at Smedley.  On the examination of a witness named John Chadwick, who swore that he saw Murray at the White Moss, on the morning of the fifteenth, Mr. Hunt objected to his evidence, because he had said he did not know any one who was there by name.

    Mr. Scarlett said he wished to show that some of the White Moss drillers had attended Mr. Hunt.

Mr. Hunt said it mattered not, unless some of those persons were among the accused.

    Mr. Scarlett hoped Mr. Hunt would not be allowed to disturb the proceedings of the court.

    Mr. Justice Bayley: Mr. Hunt has a right to take the objection, and I am doubting whether this is evidence.

    The witness was here sent out of court.

    Mr. Scarlett said he was about to show that some of these persons who were training, and who assaulted Murray, had attended the meeting of the 16th, and had also cheered opposite Murray's house; he would show that Mr. Hunt and his party had done the same.  This, he conceived, was perfectly regular.

    Mr. Justice Bayley: When you have shown that any of the persons of the White Moss party were at the meeting on the 16th, then it will be evidence, but I think you had better prove that first.

    The witness was again called in and examined, and said the first person he saw at the meeting on the 16th was a man whom he had seen at the White Moss, with a letter brought from Manchester.  A person arrived at White Moss after witness had seen Murray; the parties then formed into a square like four walls, and the man who was to read the letter was in the centre.  The letter was not read, as they said there was no name to it, and they would have nothing to do with it; the man then joined them.  The man who was to have read the letter was the man who led up the Middleton and Rochdale parties on Monday.  This man was drilling the men, and giving the word of command.

    Such was the first link of the evidence which, by inference, connected me with the White Moss affair.  Why that link was not broken will hereafter appear.  For the present Mr. Pearson advised me to sit still, and not cross-examine the witness; he would be sure, he said, to swear I was the man he saw at the Moss; he would swear right a-head, no doubt.  It was for the witness to point me out, and not for me to offer myself to his notice.  I accordingly kept my seat.  This was the only evidence tendered on the first day of the trial which applied to me.

    On the morning of the second clay the court was crowded soon after seven o'clock.  The rush when the doors were open was excessive, and a number of ladies again encountered the pressure of the crowd; they were soon, however, accommodated with such places as could be spared near the Bench, and in the magistrates' large box on the left.  The defendants were assisted by Mr. Harmer and Mr. Pearson as on the previous clay.  Mr. Justice Bayley took his seat at half-past nine.  Many persons of rank in the county were present during the day.

    William Morris, the first witness examined by Serjeant Cross, said: I am a weaver, residing five miles from Manchester.  In the month of August last I saw many groups of people near Middleton; Samuel Bamford used to be amongst them.  Early on the morning of the 16th of August, I saw many hundreds of people put into regular form at Middleton, with two flags, and twenty-five men were in each section.  I know not who formed them into sections, but there certainly was a large number collected—two or three thousand at least.  They marched off four abreast, after being first drawn into the form of a square, in the inside of which was placed a chair, on which Bamford stood and said:—"Friends and neighbours, I have a few words to relate; you will march off this place quietly, and not insult any one, but rather take an insult.  I do not think there will be any disturbance, or anything to do; if there is, it will be after we come back—there is no fear, the day is our own."  He got off the chair and distributed laurel amongst the men who were to command the sections.  They put it, some in their breasts, and some in their hats.  Before they went away a large number of people came arranged in form from Rochdale, with a band of music before them, and bearing two flags.  Both bodies joined and went off together, each with a cap of liberty.  The men had nothing in their hands but bits of switches, or small sticks.  Before that day I saw the Middleton people forming and arranging, both in fields and highroads.  Bamford was with them at different times.  John Whitworth, who had been a private in the Sixth Regiment of Foot, was drilling the men, but not on the 16th of August.  John Heywood, who had been a private in the Sixth Dragoons, had also done the same.

    In his cross-examination by me the witness said: I heard you recommend them to be peaceable, and understood you wished them to continue so during the whole day.  Many thousands went with the Middleton and Rochdale people who were not formed with them, as well as a good deal of women and children.

    Such was the evidence of this witness: it was, I dare say, as near the truth as he could recollect, and was, on the whole, strongly in my favour.  I knew some points in his character which would have enabled me to put him through a severe cross-examination, but I forebore, not wishing to injure the testimony he had given on my behalf.  Hunt, however, who could not miss an opportunity for display, took him up, and handled him most unmercifully; on which Serjeant Hullock remarked aside to one of his brother counsel, what a fool Hunt must be to destroy the man's credibility, he being to all intents and purposes our witness.  The life of this man had been one of adventure and intrigue.  He had been long in the army, and deserted from it whilst a sergeant on a foreign station, taking with him his arms and accoutrements.  Soon after this trial he was apprehended for passing forged Bank of England notes, and was convicted, but, strong interest having been used to save his life, he was transported, and died abroad.

    John Heaton being examined by Mr. Littledale, said:—I live at Middleton, and am a plumber and glazier.  On the morning of the 16th of August I saw many people assembled, and Samuel Bamford among them, and in front.  They had music and two flags.  The inscriptions were—"Liberty, Strength, and Unity," and something with a cap on a pole.  Bamford had a bunch of laurel in his hand, and many others had a little of it in their hats.

    In my cross-examination, he said: I saw nothing but small sticks.  I don't know your wife, but there were many women and children, three, four, and five abreast, who appeared to partake of the conviviality of the procession.  The people did not appear sulky; they had no angry looks, but were more, as it were, in joy.  I have some little property, and had then, but I felt no occasion to go home and shut my doors when I saw this procession.

    On the third day James Platt swore to having seen me on the hustings on St. Peter's Field, and this finished the evidence against me; but the criminatory proceedings were not closed until the afternoon of the fourth day.  The court continued to be crowded each day from an early hour.  The ladies seemed still as curious as at first, and their eagerness to witness the proceedings induced many of them to seek an entrance into the court, through privileged avenues, so early as seven o'clock.  At eight the public gates were generally thrown open, and the galleries and area became speedily filled, in the usual hurried manner, by a mixed throng, which rushed into every seat and corner of the court that was not defended by constables, for the use of magistrates, attorneys, and jurors.

    On the evening of the second day, Mr. Harmer left us to attend the trial, if I mistake not, of Sir Francis Burdett, at Leicester.  A Mr. Bryant, who I understood to be a kind of chamber counsel at London, remained with Hunt and Pearson, and assisted the former in making his points and objections, but from him I derived no benefit.  The time was now approaching when I should be called on for my defence, yet I had never had one minute's private conversation with our attorney; he had never, according to my recollection, been at my inn, nor asked me to his, nor had he ever spoken to one of my witnesses, or given me any instructions, except those already noticed, for the collection of evidence; I was, in fact, entirely left to my own resources.  Every night after the court had risen, he, Hunt and Bryant, retired and spent the evening together, and remained unapproachable by, and invisible to, the other defendants.  Indeed, excepting those who had counsel, Hunt, so far as I was enabled to judge, was the only one of the party who had the benefit of careful legal advice.  During my cross-examination of the witnesses against me, Mr. Pearson would occasionally suggest a question, or advise the suppression of one; but in other respects I was left to seek counsel from my own judgment.  I regret having to say this, but truth requires it.  Every night Hunt retired with his friends, discussing the occurrences of the day and preparing for the next; consequently, he came into court ready at all points, and, like a loaded gun, he only required a sudden impulse to make a grand discharge.  Under these circumstances it was no wonder that he performed so well, that he appeared to be so greatly talented, whilst his co-defendants had not credit for the little talent which some of them really possessed.  This was just the position which Hunt wished himself and us to occupy.  He would be all in all, and he could not endure that the humblest of us should come betwixt the public and himself, that the smallest shadow should intercept one ray of his luminous presence.  This intense selfishness was constantly displayed in all his actions.  I saw it and was astonished; I could not account for it except by condemning him, and that was not to be thought of; though the facts came oozing out like water-drops, I could not harbour an unkind thought of our leader; "it was his way it was the way of great folks it was perhaps necessary that he should do so and so"; anything, in fact, rather than allow the unwelcome truth to whisper that in his weak points Hunt was the weakest of men.  I had recently some misgivings as to the integrity of his character, but they had speedily vanished; I could not endure an unworthy opinion of any of my comrades, still less of him who occupied the most prominent station before the public.  This may be called simplicity; it was the simplicity of an uncorrupted mind.  I deemed all reformers as good as myself, and I knew that I could answer for the sincerity and disinterestedness of my own intentions.  It was not until years had elapsed that observation and reflection enabled me to penetrate the mist which had so long enveloped me.  Then it was that I became aware of the real nature of past transactions and of the character of some who had been my political friends and fellow-workers in the cause of reform.

    But during this important trial circumstances arose which compelled us at times to forget all anxiety and seriousness.  Healey, as before intimated, was one of the five defendants who had a seat at the barristers' table.  On the second clay, Mr. Scarlett had a smelling-bottle which he frequently used, and then laid on the table before him.  Our friend the doctor was seated nearly opposite to the learned gentleman, and I observed him once or twice cast very desirous looks towards the phial whilst the barrister was using it.  Mr. Scarlett, however, did not, or affected not to, notice our surgical friend, and at last the patience of the latter being tried beyond control, he leaned across the table and very respectfully solicited the loan of the bottle, which was readily granted.  "Oh yes, doctor! by all means," said Mr. Scarlett, politely handing it to him, who immediately applied it to his nose and evinced its pungency by very zestful sneezing, which obliged him to apply his handkerchief to his eyes.  Of course there was some tittering around the table and Mr. Scarlett was declared to have "taken the doctor fairly by the nose."  Hunt laughed till his eyes were brim full, whilst Healey sat quite unconscious and serious.  Soon after the bottle was returned with compliments and the trial claimed our attention.  On the third day Mr. Scarlett did not bring the smelling-bottle, and the doctor seemed disappointed.  On the fourth day the doctor lugged a long, square smelling-bottle out of his pocket and laid it down before him.  Mr. Scarlett took no notice.  The doctor smelled and laid it down.  Mr. Scarlett took no notice.  The, doctor smelled again.  Mr. Scarlett did not see him.  At length, determined not to be outdone in generosity, the doctor thrust it towards Mr. Scarlett with a bow and a request that he would use it.  Mr. Scarlett coloured, but he good-humouredly took the phial and, having smelled, he politely returned it with thanks, which the doctor as politely acknowledged.  The same ceremony was repeated once, if not oftener afterwards, and the doctor, then perfectly satisfied, gave up the farce.

    On the morning of Sunday, the 19th of March, I retired to my little back room at a cottage opposite the inn, for I boarded at the latter place and lodged with a worthy couple across the street.  I now read and compared my notes and spent several hours in framing the heads of my speech for the day following.  On the morning of Monday, Mr. Chapman was sent by a committee of our friends, who were carrying into effect arrangements for the subsistence of the witnesses; the latter had been boarded at our hotel at the rate, if I mistake not, of five shillings per head per day, and it was found necessary to reduce the expenditure, else there would not be funds to carry us through the trial.  The witnesses were thenceforth to provide for themselves and would have an allowance of three shillings per clay for that purpose; all the money was to go into a common fund for disbursements.  I accordingly handed to him what money I had remaining, and that cause of anxiety was removed from my mind.

    It became apparent towards the noon of Monday, the fourth day of the trial, that the prosecutors were about to close their case, and that the defence must be commenced on the afternoon of that day.  Whilst we were talking of the matter, Hunt said, "Bamford, you will be called on to address the court the first of all the defendants."  I said I thought that scarcely probable, as we should most likely be called in the order in which our names stood in the indictment.  Hunt said he knew that was contemplated by the opposing counsel, and particularly by Mr. Scarlett, who wanted to bring him out in the evening when he was exhausted, the court wearied, and the public satiated and listless.  But, with an oath, he said he was not to be taken aback that way, he was too old a bird to be caught by such a manoeuvre.  He then opened to me his plans and said that Messrs. Barrow and Holt, the counsel for Moorhouse, Jones, and Saxton, would first address the court, then I should be called on, next Healey, then Swift, and lastly Johnson.  I asked him if he thought the opposing parties would acquiesce in that arrangement, and he said if Mr. Scarlett objected, as he durst say he would, he himself would make a special application to the judge on the subject, or to adjourn the trial until the following day.  "Now, Bamford, by—" he said, "I'll tell you what you must do if called this afternoon."  "Well, Well, what should I do?" I inquired.  "You must talk against time," he said.  "Talk against time?" I asked, "what's that?"  "You must keep possession of the court an hour and a half at least," he said; "you must talk to put on time in order to prevent them from calling on me under any circumstances to-night.  I know well that is what Scarlett is aiming at, and we must play our game so as to put it beyond his power."  "But I am not prepared with matter for an hour and a half's speech," I said; "I should break down if I attempted it."  "Don't mind that," he replied, "don't mind anything, only keep on."  "I should make myself look like a fool, and they would be laughing at me and stopping me," I replied.  "Pshaw! and suppose they did, you could listen and, when they had done, begin again."  "But I should not know what to say."  "Say! say anything, the d—est nonsense in the world, never mind what you say, only keep on until they cannot call me to-day."  Something like a glimmer of the naked truth flashed across my reluctant mind and I replied: "No, Mr. Hunt, I will not do as you desire, I will not exhibit myself before this court as a fool; I will speak as long as I can speak, to the purpose and with common sense.  I would speak until dark if that would serve you, and I was prepared for the task; but I am not, and I won't make myself ridiculous." "Very well," said Hunt, and looked another way, quite cool and distant.

    I then showed the manuscript of my address to Mr. Pearson, and he advised the striking out of a passage wherein I alluded to the circumstance of my having slept at the house of my wife's uncle on the night previous to Murray being at White Moss, and to the fact of the servant girl having removed my shoes whilst cleaning the house after I went to bed, and my not being able to find them on the following morning and her having to find them for me.  He said that passage should be erased; it had not been proved that I was at White Moss, and the attempt to explain away what had not been proved would rather strengthen the opinion, if such existed, that there was really some truth in the supposition of my having been on the Moss.  I reminded him of what Chadwick had sworn, and of what Morris and Heaton had sworn, as to my leading up the people, but he said that was not sufficient to call on me for a replication; I had not been pointed out, not personally identified by Chadwick, and I had best not take any notice of that part of the evidence.  I must confess I did not see this distinction clearly, but I yielded to his advice and the passage was struck out; the servant girl alluded to also was not examined as to that point by me.

    I think it was about three o'clock in the afternoon when Michael Fitzpatrick, a reporter for the New Times, and the last witness for the prosecution, made his exit from the witness-box.  Mr. Barrow and Mr. Holt then addressed the court on behalf of their several clients, and Mr. Hunt made application to the judge that I should next be heard, and the other defendants after me, in order that, as an indulgence, his address might be deferred until the following morning.  Mr. Scarlett, I think, observed that such a course would be irregular, but did not strongly object to it, and the favour was granted.  I accordingly addressed the court in the following terms:—

    "My lord, and gentlemen of the jury,—Before I enter into a detail of the evidence which I intend to produce in my defence, I think it necessary to notice some expressions made use of by the learned counsel for the prosecution in the speech which he addressed to the court on the opening of these proceedings.   I allude to that part of his address where he said that 'Bamford was seen training a body of ten thousand men on the morning of the 16th.'  If the brief which the learned gentleman had before him instructed him to make such an assertion, so much the better, and I sincerely wish, for his own honour, that it may be so.  [Mr. Scarlett intimated across the table that such were his instructions.]  But your lordship and the jury cannot have failed to observe that the testimony of Morris contains no such proof, and he alone has appeared against me with respect to the transactions that took place at Middleton, previous to our movement towards Manchester.  Indeed, Morris states that he knew not who formed the people into section, division, and square; that they were so formed, but by whom he does not undertake to say.  The learned gentleman also, in commenting upon some of the banners and their inscriptions, described one as bearing the words 'Annual Parliaments' and 'Universal Suffrage,' and insinuated that such were put forth as a demand, whence he inferred a design to subvert the constitution and government.  Now, the mottoes on the banner so erroneously described, were nothing more than an avowal of what we considered, and do still consider, as our political right.  There was no such thing as a demand about it; why should we demand that which we were going to Manchester to petition for?

    "With respect to drilling, I have, in common with my neighbours, heard much, seen some, and could have seen more; for it was, to use a common, though very memorable, phrase, 'as notorious as the sun at noonday.'  If it will not be trespassing too much on the time of the court, I will endeavour to give a brief account of its origin and intention.  In the course of the last six years Manchester has witnessed many public meetings, to all of which, with the exception of the last, great numbers of people from the surrounding towns and villages proceeded in groups; and on these occasions they were uniformly styled by the Liberal and venal press of the place, mobs-riotous, tumultuous, and disorderly mobs; they were ridiculed as illiterate, dirty, and mean, having chapped hands and greasy nightcaps.  They were scandalised as being drunken and disorderly, as being libellous and seditious, dividers of property, and destroyers of social order; and was it not then very natural that these poor, insulted, and vilified people should wish to rescue themselves from the unmerited imputations which were wantonly cast on their character?  It certainly was natural that they should wish to give the lie to their enemies, and thereby show to the nation and to the world that they were not what they had been represented to be.  They determined to give one example of peace and good order, such as should defy the most bitter of their enemies to criminate, and for this purpose, and this alone, was the drilling, so styled, instituted.  Only one witness for the prosecution has sworn to having heard amongst the drillers the word 'fire'; all the others swear only to their facing, and to their marching in file and in line, which evolutions were certainly most suited to familiarise them with that uniformity of motion which would be necessary for the preservation of due order and decorum in their progress to the place of meeting.  But as to these facts I do not tender to your lordship and the jury my own assertion only.  I refer you to the papers laid before the House of Commons, relative to the internal state of the country.  The particular document to which I refer in those papers is dated the 5th of August, only four clays previous to the first proposed meeting at Manchester, which should have been on the 9th; so that if we suppose the drilling parties to have been in existence a week or a fortnight before the day on which the letter referred to is dated, the ground of my argument is strengthened.  That military gentleman who did us the honour to stand so long before us on Saturday evening, and whose services, I trow, consisted in marching with Colonel Fletcher from Bolton to Manchester, and from Manchester to Bolton, talks of 'midnight drillings,' and of parties coming to the meeting in 'beautiful order.'  The former representation is not, I presume, legal evidence, and, of course, will not appear on your lordship's notes.  The latter confirms what I have said respecting the wish of the people to preserve the strictest decorum.

    "Your lordship and the jury will find by the evidence which I shall produce that by nine o'clock on the morning of the ever memorable 16th of August, numbers of persons assembled at Middleton; that they were formed into a hollow square; and that whilst so formed I addressed them, earnestly cautioning them to be on their guard against enemies, and representing the advantage which might be taken of their numbers to create a riot by persons who might be employed for that sole purpose; that I advised them not to insult any person, but rather suffer an insult on that day, as their opponents would be glad of a pretext to accuse them of riot and disorder; that I entreated them to bear towards every one a spirit of good-will, in token of which I distributed amongst them branches of laurel, emblems of purity and peace, as described by Morris and Heaton; and having heard that if I went to the meeting the police of Manchester would, on its own responsibility, arrest me, I cautioned the people against offering any resistance, if such an attempt should be made, as I preferred an appeal to the laws of my country rather than to force; that I insisted no sticks should be taken, and that in consequence several were left by the way; that we went in the greatest hilarity and good-humour, preceded by a band of music, which played loyal and national airs; and that our fathers, our mothers, our wives, our children, and our sweethearts were with us.  And this was the dreadful military array which the learned counsel described as I one vast army, bearing from all parts to the invasion of Manchester'—poor, forlorn, defenceless Manchester.  These were 'the soldiers ready to fight for Mr. Hunt'; with bare heads and with arms locked—a fighting posture, forsooth—who terrified that immortal author of green books, Mr. Francis Phillips; and of such persons, oh, dreadful to relate! was formed that 'cordon,' impenetrable to everything, save the newly ground sabres of the Manchester Yeomanry Cavalry."

    At this time the judge arose hastily and motioned me to cease speaking; the blood had gushed from his nose on the cushion before him, and he retired, with the High Sheriff, and one or two gentlemen that were near him.  In a short time his lordship returned, and I merely added some conversations on the conduct of a magistrate who had detained papers of mine, which, being a manuscript of one of Hoyle's games at draughts, the zealous functionary suspected it might possibly be the plan of a plot in cypher.  I also said I should leave my share of the general defence to Mr. Hunt, whose superior knowledge and eloquence would, no doubt, obtain for us full justice, which was all we wanted.

    In confirmation of this speech, I adduced evidence which showed that I inculcated peace and good order to the Middleton party before we left Barrowfields; that there was not to be any opposition to the police, should they come to arrest me or any other person; that the people were to keep themselves select, and return with their banners, and not to stop in the town drinking, nor loitering in the streets; that no sticks were allowed in the procession except to aged persons, and that several were resigned on the ground, or left by the way; that the wives of several of the party accompanied their husbands, and that there were many young females and children with the procession; that we seemed quite cheerful on the road; that there were no symptoms of alarm in Middleton or on the road; and that the drillings were public and in open day.  In short, all that I advanced in my speech was fully confirmed by my evidence.

    After me, Swift, Healey, and Johnson got up in succession.  Healey had for a day or two appeared to be labouring under a cold with hoarseness.  He sat opposite the judge, with a handkerchief thrown over his head, the corners drooping on his shoulders, exactly as the flaps of his lordship's wig drooped on his.  He frequently looked up towards the glass dome above him, as if a stream of air came from thence and he was affected by it; but he did not attempt to move to another seat, which he probably would have done, had he experienced illness from that cause.  Whether this was the case or not, it is a fact that he had a speech to read which had been written by a friend at Lees, and he could not read it.  He then had a cold, became hoarse, and the clerk of the court read the speech for him.  This official was a well-fed, red-faced, snub-nosed personage, with spectacles on his nose, and a wig of legal cut on his head.  He held the document at a considerable altitude, as if he were looking over his spectacles instead of through them, and he read the speech in a monotonous, half-speaking, half-singing tone, much as a school-boy, some twenty years ago would have droned out his lesson.  The doctor stood at his elbow, his looks evincing surprise and disappointment, that his document should have fallen into such incapable hands; next he became impatient, as was manifest by his varying attitudes and sharp gesticulations, by which he meant to supply the want of modulation and emphasis in the reader.  An artist was in court sketching at the time, and if he took this pair of originals, his portfolio may some day turn out one singular illustration of nature.

    Hunt had thus obtained what he so ardently desired, a night for consultation, reflection, and repose, and a crowded morning audience for his grand exhibition.  I shall not dwell upon his defence, except to notice one passage relative to Richard Carlile.  In the commencement of his address he said, "I am not only charged in the opening speech of the learned counsel with having attempted to overthrow the constituted authorities of my country, but also to extinguish in the flame of infidelity the altar of our holy religion.  It has been industriously promulgated that I was connected with Mr. Carlile; it has been promulgated that I am a man of his principles.  Where is the proof?  Without it why should the imputation have been cast?  I shall not advert to the conduct of that man, because the law has imposed its punishment upon him, and he is now enduring the reward of his temerity.  It would, therefore, be improper, and imprudent and unjust for me in open court to touch upon such a subject, but why was the topic introduced?  I will tell you, gentlemen—to connect our cause with that of irreligion, and to identify the cause of the reformers with that of Mr. Carlile.  I profess to be a reformer, but not a leveller; I profess to be a lover of liberty, but not of licentiousness; sweet, lovely liberty, gentlemen, is pure and amiable as sacred truth; licentiousness is a disgraceful as darkness and falsehood."  And then in a subsequent passage, he said, "You have heard the miserable attempt to fix upon me an irreligious connection with Carlile.  I have known the man, and if I do not say what I think of him, it is because he is now suffering, the sentence of the law, and therefore is not a fit subject for anybody's animadversion.  Of him I shall say nothing now, but I shall say that none of the principles, professions, or doctrines he is said to have espoused were ever, at any moment of my life, imbibed by or believed in by me.  In the face of God and my country I most solemnly declare that I never read one line of the theological works of Carlile until Dr. Stoddart's libel upon me first put them into my hands in the following manner.  Mr. Scarlett was then employed, as he is now, against me in the court of King's Bench.  Carlile's trial was going on, mine was the very next, and I was bound to watch it, or else expose myself to the consequences of being absent when called on—a verdict for the defendant.  Such was my unfortunate case, or else I should not have been in London, much less in court, when Carlile's trial was pending.  I here further declare, in the face of heaven, that among the reformers, rich or poor, I never recollect to have seen one line of the theological works of Thomas Paine.  Why, then, identify the reformers with such doctrines?  Good God! was it not enough to charge us with crimes against our fellow-men, but that also we must be designated as infidels against our religion and our God."

    Whilst Hunt uttered those last sentences the tears trickled down his face.  "Good God!" I also mentally exclaimed, "Is it possible? are not my ears deceiving me?"  Carlile, the reader will recollect, was one of those who went with Hunt in the carriage from Johnson's to the meeting on the morning of the 16th.  He was so fortunate as to escape from the field, and had since been tried, found guilty, and sentenced to imprisonment for a theological work, if I mistake not; and was at the moment Hunt thus denounced and renounced him in prison.  No human power, nor dread of human power, should have been able to compel Hunt to make use of such language at that time, and under those circumstances.  Whatever Carlile was, good or bad, religious or the contrary, the law had for the present done its work with him, and that is seldom part done; and, above all other moments, that was not the one to aim a clumsy and treacherous blow at a late comrade, now bound and fettered.  "Can this," thought I, "be also one of the fashionable levities of great folks?  If it be, it is requisite that I should be more guarded and more self-governed in future."  And so I was; I continued to respect Hunt for his good points, but I was no longer entirely blinded to his faults.  I never could forget this scene.

    It was about the second or third day of the trial that, in cross-examination, I put what was considered a leading question.  One of the counsel immediately called it back, and said that was not the proper way to put it.  I apologised on account of my ignorance of the forms of examinations, when Serjeant Hullock, nodding his head, said, "a pretty apt scholar, however, I think."

    One morning I observed that Mr. Scarlett was reading some verses of mine (the Lancashire Hymn) in a Manchester newspaper.  In the evening, when I was passing along the corridor from the court, I accidently joined Mr. Scarlett and Mr. Maule, the solicitor for the Government.  They both recognised me respectfully, and I returned the salute.  Mr. Scarlett said he had seen some verses of mine which were certainly open to comment by the prosecution, but he should not make any use of them to my prejudice.  He also said he understood I had published a small poetical work, called "The Weaver Boy."  I said I had.  He then said, if it should so happen that I should have to come to London in consequence of the trial, he could wish me to bring him a copy.  I said I would do so with pleasure, and if I did not come up, I would forward one to him.  Mr. Maule said, "And let me have a copy also."  I said I would take care he had one, and so with mutual civilities we parted.

    After the defence was closed, and when Mr. Scarlett was making his speech in reply, I certainly felt more surprised than flattered by the distinction which he thought proper to make in my favour.  "Bamford," he said, "and when he mentioned the name of that defendant, he could not but express his regret at the situation in which he saw him now placed; he (Mr. Scarlett) admired his talents and the respectful manner in which he had conducted his defence, and probably others as well as himself (Mr. Scarlett) were sorry that he was not found in better company."

    One day I had done something which pleased Hunt mightily, and when the court broke up and we were in the yard, Hunt said, "Come, Bamford, take my arm, you are my right-hand man."  I took his arm, and we walked down the street with a great crowd at our heels, shouting "Hunt for ever! Hunt for ever!" and huzzaing.  Looking back, I saw the judge's carriage with his lordship in, and the horses restive in consequence of the noise, and I put out my hand and desired the crowd to be silent.  Hunt heard what I said, and, giving me a sudden jerk, began cursing in his usual wont when in a passion, and asked who ordered me to stop the people from shouting?  I pointed to the carriage then in the midst of us, the horses still prancing; but that did not pacify my shout-loving friend, and he continued his maledictions until I turned to go to my lodgings.  A similar cause of displeasure was given by Moorhouse on another night when the mail-coach was passing, and was in danger of being upset.  Moorhouse received his reprimand at Hunt's apartments, and was then invited to walk out of the room.  He wept with mortification!  I laughed, as I have often done since, when thinking of the circumstance.

    A female witness from Middleton, a married woman, gave very important evidence in a most impressive manner, and was to return home the following morning.  Before going she wished to see Mr. Hunt, in order to have the honour of saying she had shaken hands with the great man.  I offered to introduce her, and we went to Hunt's apartments, but he was not there, and we were referred to a tavern, the "Black Swan," I think, in Coney Street.  We found there that Hunt, Bryant, and several others were upstairs, and I sent in my name, and after standing in the bar a short time the waiter said, "Mr Hunt could not be seen, he was engaged."  I thought there must be some mistake, and requested the man to give my compliments to Mr. Hunt, and say I should be glad to see him for a minute.  The man did so, and came down again with the same result, I was ashamed and offended at receiving such a slight; but, determined that he should not have any ground to plead a misunderstanding, I desired the waiter to go up once more, and say a lady who was going into Lancashire wished to bid him good-bye.  The servant very obligingly went up again and returned as before, "Mr. Hunt could not be seen."  The next morning I took my seat at a distance from him in the court, and it was not until repeated overtures on his part, and many fervent expressions of regret, that I resumed conversation with him.  But I could scarcely have justified myself if I had suffered any personal offence to alienate me from him during the trial.  I considered the cause too great, too holy, to suffer injury in the least by any circumstance affecting one so humble as myself.  I was, in fact, too simple-minded, too sincere, and too generous for the situation in which I was placed; and it was not until multiplied acts of deception and ingratitude had been practised upon me, that I learned (if I have yet done so) to value mankind according to their real worth.  I narrate the above as a specimen of the intercourse and confidence which existed among us at York.  The same really contemptible feeling of classism, the curse of England and Englishmen, and of Englishwomen also, existed in too great a degree amongst the witnesses.  There were "the broad cloth" and "the narrow cloth" ones, the rich and the poor; and the former seldom sought opportunities for intercommunication with the latter, but rather shunned them.  This "pride that licks the dust"—for it is nothing else—has begot a counteraction as wrong as itself.  It has filled the working classes with a fierce contempt and hatred of every one wearing a decent coat.  This latter is being as mad as the other is being mean.  The proper course for those who feel and contemn class distinction, is, first of all, to respect themselves; next, to invite a respectful equality by unoffending manners; and thirdly, to assert their right position in society by withholding the smallest deference to mere assumption.  This would be quite sufficient, without rudeness or noise, to restore the natural balance of society.

    When the judge came to read over the evidence, the following passage occurred: "The next evidence, (for the prosecution) was that which related to Bamford, and it only showed that he recommended peace and order; still he was identified with the placards if they thought them illegal.  If a meeting for considering a reform in Parliament be illegal, he is an offender, but it was his (the judge's) duty to tell them that it was not.  There was no illegality in carrying sticks unless they were for an unlawful purpose—nor banners, unless their tenor was such as to excite suspicion of the objects of those who carried them, or concurred in bringing them with an evil intention.  As to numbers, they alone did not make a meeting illegal, unless attended with such circumstances as did actually excite terror, or were reasonably calculated to excite terror; such circumstances were forbidden by the law.  They had truly heard that where there was no law there was no transgression; if the meeting was innocently intended, then the law was not violated.  We next come," observed his lordship, "to Healey's admonitory remark to me, to take care, and not in anything I say to prejudice your minds against him.  If I do, gentlemen, discard any expression of mine having such a tendency altogether from your minds.  I mean to do my duty with integrity, to the best of my poor judgment.  If I err, and err with intention, then, gentlemen, there is that power to which I am awfully responsible.  Between the crown on one hand, and my country on the other, I shall do, I hope, equal justice.  The defendants, I trust, shall suffer no undue prejudice at my hands—my conscience will uphold me in what I have to say to you; and He who will sit in judgment on all our poor acts will have to determine what motive dictated them.  I have now closed my observations upon the evidence for the prosecution, and before I sum up that for the defence, I wish to state that I have made a summary of it, which will bring its leading points with less fatigue to your minds.  If, however, I omit anything material to any of the defenda