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and neighborly cronies; her agreeable city home, | martyrs. It is the joy of heaven over the regenerwith all the pleasures and conveniences of the ation of earth; the noontide light of a world's permetropolis, and go vagabondizing off into the rural fect redemption, which bathes the young brow of districts. And then if she were a good housewife, the world's future Redeemer. how hard to forsake her household comforts, associations, and duties; the well-filled wardrobe, the granary, the larder; the cow in the stall, the hen on the nest, the linen in the loom, the morning cream on the milk! No wonder that home, love, and womanly regrets, overcame her, and that she turned to take a last fond look, even at the perf of petrifying into a solemn and mournful warning; of becoming a crystallization of her own tears.

There is a vein of drollery and humor in her description of her dog Tom, or Thomas," as she prefers strangers to call him, which reminds one of some of Lamb's letters to Bernard Barton.

It were well for us to take this serene, prophetic light into our souls, lest, as we look abroad and behold war, oppressions, and innumerable woes. our faith fail us, and we murmur: "Oh, tears of Mount Olivet, oh, blood-drops of Calvary, ye were shed in vain!"-lest the cry of impatient anguish break too often from our lips, "How long, oh Lord, how long!"

While it is ours" to labor and to wait," it is a joy to know that, amid her degradation, her sorrows, and her crimes, earth still cherishes deep in her bruised heart a sweet hope, holy and indestructible. that the day of her redemption draweth nigh; the day foretold by the fire-touched lips of the prophets : the day whose coming was hailed by the martyrs in hosannas which rang through their prison-walls, and went up amid the flames; the day of the fulfilment of the angel's song; the day of the equality taught by Jesus in the temple, on the Mount, and by the wayside; the day of the peace, the rest, and the freedom of God.

We need not say that, like everything from the hands of its publishers, this volume is a neat and elegant specimen of the typographical art.

J. G. W.

The Life of Christ, from the New Testament. By the Rev. HASTINGS WELD. Illustrated by ten splendid Illuminations in Tint, by Devereaux. Philadelphia: Hogan & Thompson.

Verily, a dog of pleasant humor and infinite waggery is Tom. I took the handsome fellow to have his daguerreotype taken, a few days since. Why, the creature had no taste for the fine arts, or a contempt for this particular branch. It was as though he knew that Rubens and Hogarth and Landseer had painted worse-looking dogs, and would not be daguerreotyped. Naturally graceful as he is, he managed to throw himself into the most outre and ludicrous attitudes, and by his restlessness and awkwardness almost forfeited his good reputation as a setter. He sometimes appeared on the plate with one nose more than even a hunting dog needs for scent; sometimes, like those monster lambs exhibited at museums, with two heads and two tails. At last he stretched himself at full length and fell asleep, and we resolved to have him thus taken. Presently his doguerreotype was before us. He WE have before us one of the most heautiful looked like a Spaniard enjoying his siesta. There The reverend author opens was the utmost abandon of taking-it-easy comfort books of the season. in figure, a fine tone of aristocratic repose; but I the sublime narratives with the "angel's song," missed the better standing posture, the animated, in anticipation of the holy reign about to comup-turned nose, the graceful droop of the ear, and mence; and after tracing, with great simplicity the large, dark, luminous eyes, the life in every and truthfulness, every event in the life of the limb: in short, it looked like a portrait taken after Saviour, closes by leaving him arrayed before death, and suggested mournful fancies. To-morWorks of this descriprow, we intend making another effort. We think Pilate and his accusers. of fastening a tempting piece of meat to the ceiling tion are the most appropriate gifts we can present above, far out of his reach. His eager look of to our children at this season; while the beauty hopeful aspiration will, we think, give a fine effect of the illustrations attracts and interests, the lucid to the picture. It will seem as though he heard a descriptions, so happily presented, often tend to voice we could not hear-the voice of the hunter the contemplation of virtues incident to the ChrisAdonis cheering his dogs over the Elysian Fields, tian life.—Republic. or were just about to set the Ursa Major.

We have only room for a single extract of a widely different character, from the closing letter, describing the Agnus Dei of Steinhausen, the German sculptor; the infant Jesus leaning against the cross, with the serpent under its feet.

Shakspeare's Dramatic Works, with Introductory Remarks, original and selected. Boston edition. illustrated. Phillips, Sampson & Co.

THOSE who desire to supply themselves with a copy of Shakspeare's dramatic writings for familiar and permanent use, will find this edition to meet

their wants precisely. It is printed on excellent paper, of the large octavo size, with clear, new type, and a single column to a page. It is issued in numbers, each one containing a single play and costing but twenty-five cents.

On the brow of the God-child rests a light, holy and prophetic, whose rays stream backward from the golden days to come. It is not alone the radiance shaken from the wing of the spirit-dove, as he went down into Jordan; not caught from the first adoring look of the unsealed eyes of men born blind. It is not of the sudden morn which broke upon Lazarus' Each number is illustrated with a fine engravnight of death; not of the joy which illumined the ing, and contains a preliminary bibliographical and desolate home of the widow of Nain; not of the holy hope which shone through the tears of the critical sketch of the play. The sixth and seventh Magdalene. It is not a gleam of the awful spenders numbers will appear on the first of January, and of transfiguration, nor auriole of a triumphant ascen- the remaining numbers every two weeks thereafter. sion, nor the glory raying off from the crown of-N. Y. Eve. Post.

From the Examiner, 3 Nov. LAWYERS, CLIENTS, WITNESSES, AND THE PUBLIC; OR, THE EXAMINER AND COUNSELLOR

PHILLIPS.

THE TRIAL OF THE MANNINGS.

CERTAINLY a more remarkable trial, in all its circumstances, than that of the Mannings, is not on record. Three distinct and irreconcilable charges were before the court: the charge of the crown against the two prisoners; the charge of the husband against the wife; the charge of the wife against the husband. There was no denial of the murder; the whole endeavor of each of the criminals was to slip his or her neck out of the noose, and fix it on the other. The woman's demeanor, unsexed quite, was as remarkable as all the rest of the case. Her conduct during the trial, especially when subjected to the cruel attacks of Mr. Serjeant Wilkins, evinced the most extraordinary firmness and composure, and a mind sufficiently at ease for a smile at a ludicrous observation on the evidence. But from the moment that the verdict was pronounced, the marvellous calm was exchanged for as marvellous a tempest. Instead of the astonishing self-control before displayed, there was as astonishing an exhibition of the loss, or rather the voluntary abandonment, of all self-control. She gave herself up to fury, and railed and stormed, scattering

the rue about as she would have scattered the woe

make the most of cutting off and pillaging him, and afterwards to get rid of the husband either by flight or by a halter.

Odious as the character of this woman is, it is impossible to read Mr. Sergeant Wilkins' treatment of her when standing trial for her life, without the profoundest disgust and abhorrence. He was fully conscious of the detestable nature of the part he was about to perform, and in some degree anticipated the censure due to it.

at first sight appears very odious; and, in the next I have to urge upon you a line of defence which place, I am to be followed-strange as it may ap pear-by another defending counsel, whose duty it will be to neutralize, as far as in him lies, all that I may urge, and to destroy, if he can, the man whom I wish to save. Whatever topics he may urge upon you, however, I shall not quarrel with

them.

Thus, if Mr. Serjeant Wilkins played Jeffries,' he gave Mr. Ballantine full permission to enact Scroggs or Coke; but Mr. Ballantine did not avail himself of this generous offer of a share in ruffianism, and in reply, with propriety and spirit, conveyed this just rebuke:

He (Mr. Ballantine) would have been glad if they could have escaped the spectacle, unparalleled in a criminal court, of finding an advocate, either for the prosecution or for the defence, in the pres ence of a person who was undergoing a trial for her life, denouncing her in terms that, to say the least, were utterly unnecessary-terms which he of which it is the emblem. The usual terrors of could hardly help calling somewhat coarse. He the scene had no terror for this woman. When considered that the presence of the person against the judge put on the black cap, and commenced whom those observations were made, ought at all the solemn address which has made the stoutest events to have prevented his learned friend from hearts quail, the virago stopped him as if it had using them, whatever might be the necess been some child's play, crying out vehemently, "I his case. Far be it from him to say that his won't stand it; you ought to be ashamed of your could apply to this matter-that he had not confriend had not exercised the best judgment that he self." And she actually made a motion as if she scientiously followed the instructions he had rewas going to walk off from the dock, and to have ceived; for he would do his learned friend the done with the whole affair at once and forever. In credit of believing that he had acted contrary to his her protest against the verdict appears a character-own taste and feeling in performing what he be istic train of reasoning. The words intimate much more than they directly express:

If I had wished to commit murder, I would not have attempted the life of the only friend I had in the world-a man who would have made me his wife in a week, if I had been a widow.

The meaning of this obviously is, that if she had murdered her husband instead of O'Connor, she might have married O'Connor in a week; and that consequently the murder of Manning would have been the preferable proceeding to a mind capable of either the one or the other. It is, to say the least, highly probable that this alternative was not considered for the first time in the dock of the criminal court; that the to be or not to be had been weighed as to both the husband and the paramour, and the decision come to upon the balance of gain and convenience. It may be thought singular that the choice of the victim was not different, but a circumstance has since transpired which may account for it, that O'Connor was about to marry; and the calculation may have been to

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lieved to be his duty to his client. His learned friend appeared to anticipate that he (Mr. Ballantine) would follow his example, and endeavor to throw upon the male prisoner the burden of this miserable, this unhappy transaction. God forbid that he should pursue that course! He would far rather never enter that court, or any other, than, in the presence of a fellow-creature awaiting his doom -who might be led from that court to the scaffold, and might soon have to appear before his Creator-he would use such terms as had been applied by his learned friend to the female prisoner. He (Mr... Ballantine) would do that which was his duty as an advocate; but if his duty as an advocate required of observations and accusations which had been made that he should cast upon the male prisoner the sort against the woman, he would feel that his profession was a disgrace, and that the sooner he abandoned it for one somewhat more creditable, the sooner he would be a respected, an honest, an honorable, and an upright man, and placed in a position better to respect himself.

It is many years since a prisoner was directly addressed by an advocate with upbraidings for the crime yet in question, in this ruffianly strain :

Let the jury observe h hypocrisy her false- |cently revived, which has for nine years harassed hood-her consummate wicke mess. Keating asked my friends far more than myself.

She

39 Gordon square.

I am, &c.,

CHARLES PHillips.

Mrs. Manning if she had seen O'Connor. replied that she had not seen him since Wednesday night. Keating said it was a very strange thing. "Very strange," repented the female prisoner, "for I invited him to dinner on the Thursday, and Inner Temple, Nov. 14, 1849. Mr. Manning thought it a most ungentlemanly MY DEAR PHILLIPS,-It was with pain that I thing that he did not come at the appointed time. heard yesterday of an accusation having been I went to his lodgings to ascertain the reason why revived against you in the "Examiner" newspaper he did not come." On that occasion-the only respecting alleged dishonorable and most uncontime when her lip was noticed to quiver and her scientious conduct on your part when defending cheek to blanch--she made use of an expression Courvoisier against the charge of having murdered which had struck Lim, as he saw it had done some Lord William Russell. Considering that you fill of the jury. She said, "Poor Mr. O'Connor! a responsible judicial office, and have to leave behind he was the best friend I had in the world." "Poor you a name unsullied by any blot or stain, I think Mr. O'Conr.or!" (continued the learned serjeant.) you ought to lose no time in offering, as I believe Why poor Mr. O'Connor? You (apparently ad- you can truly do, a public and peremptory contradressing the female prisoner) knew his body was diction to the allegations in question. The mere mouldering in your kitchen. You knew you were circumstance of your having been twice promoted at that moment in possession of his property. You to judicial office by two lord chancellors, Lord knew his voice would never be heard again. You Lyndhurst and Lord Brougham, since the circulaknew that he had been hurried out of time into eternity. Well might you say, " Poor Mr. O'Connor," thrown off your guard at the moment.

In excuse for Mr. Serjeant Wilkins, it is coolly I stated that no other line of defence was opened to him; but the simple reply to that is, that then he should have thrown up the case rather than resort to a defence repugnant to truth, decency, and common humanity.

tion of the reports to which I am alluding, and after those reports had been called to the attention of at least one of those noble and learned lords, is sufficient evidence of the groundlessness of such reports.

Some time ago I was dining with Lord Denman, when I mentioned to him the report in question. His lordship immediately stated that he had inquired into the matter, and found the charge to be utterly unfounded; that he had spoken on the It is an evidence of the progress of opinion, bench beside Chief Justice Tindal, who tried subject to Mr. Baron Parke, who had sat on the and its influence even on the bar, that this conduct Courvoisier, and that Baron Parke told him he of Mr. Serjeant Wilkins has been the subject of had, for reasons of his own, most carefully such general animadversion. Ten years ago it watched every word that you uttered, and assured would have passed comparatively uncensured, and Lord Denman that your address was perfectly unten years ago Mr. Ballantine would not have had exceptionable, and that you made no such statecourage to characterize and repudiate it as he did.ments as were subsequently attributed to you. Lord Denman told me that I was at liberty to much worse was Mr. Phillips' attempt to mention this fact to any one; and expressed in throw the suspicion of the murder of Lord Wil- noble and generous terms his concern at the existliam Russell on the innocent female servants, in ence of such serious and unfounded imputations order to procure the acquittal of his client Cour-upon your character and honor. voisier, of whose guilt he was cognizant! But Both Lord Denman and Baron Parke are men of so little was he prejudiced in the highest places as nice a sense of honor and as high a degree of of legal authority and patronage by this horrible endeavor, that he was soon afterwards advanced to a seat of judicature, about the same time that one of the unfortunate women, whose characters and lives he would have placed in jeopardy, was lodged in a lunatic asylum, driven mad by the terrors that had successively beset her. But public opinion has, since then, had its effect even upon the licentiousness of the bar; and though there may now be unscrupulous advocates capable of reën39 Gordon square, Nov. 20. acting the part of Mr. Phillips, and Mr. Serjeant MY DEAR WARREN,-Your truly kind letter Wilkins approaches it, yet we are very certain induces me to break the contemptuous silence with that both the judgment of the profession and the which for nine years I have treated the calumnies public would put a perpetual veto on their promo-to which you allude. I am the more induced to tion, and that they would remain, what is significantly called, marked men.

From the Examiner of 24th November. 66 TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES." SIR,-I shall esteem it a great favor if you will allow the accompanying documents to appear in the "Times." Its universal circulation affords me an opportunity of annihilating a calumny re

conscientiousness as it is possible to conceive; and judges ought to be publicly known, to extinguish I think the testimony of two such distinguished every kind of suspicion on the subject.

I write this letter to you spontaneously, and, hoping that you will forgive the earnestness with which I entreat you to act upon my suggestion― believe me, ever yours sincerely, SAMUEL WARREN.

Mr. Commissioner Phillips.

this by the representations of some valued friends that many honorable minds begin to believe the slander because of its repetition without receiving a contradiction. It is with disgust and disdain, however, that even thus solicited I stoop to notice inventions too abominable, I had hoped, for any honest man to have believed. The conduct of Lord Denman is in every respect characteristic of his noble nature. Too just to condemn without proof, he investigates the facts, and defends the innocent.

fore retained the brief, and I contend for it, that every argument I used was a fair commentary on the evidence, though undoubtedly as strong as I could make them. I believe there is no difference of opinion now in the profession that this course was right. It was not till after eight hours' public exertion before the jury that the prisoner confessed; and to have abandoned him then would have been virtually surrendering him to death. This is my answer to the first charge.

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His deliberate opinion is valuable indeed, because he did, said I was oound to do so, and to use all proceeding from one who is invaluable himself. fair arguments arising on the evidence. I thereMy judicial appointments by the noblemen you mention would have entailed on them a fearful responsibility, had there been any truth in the accusations of which they must have been cognizant. I had no interest whatever with either of these chancellors, save that derived from their knowledge of my character, and their observation of my conduct. It is now five-and-twenty years ago since Lord Lyndhurst, when I had no friend here, voluntarily tendered me his favor, and his influence, and his kindness to me remains to this I am accused, secondly, of having "appealed to day unabated. Of Lord Brougham, my ever warm Heaven as to my belief in Courvoisier's innocence,' and devoted friend, I forbear to speak, because after he had made me acquainted with his guilt! words cannot express my affection or my gratitude. A grievous accusation. But it is false as it is foul, His friendship has soothed some affliction and and carries its own refutation on its face. It is enhanced every pleasure, and while memory lasts with difficulty I restrain the expression of my indigwill remain the proudest of its recollections and nation; but respect for my station forbids me to the most precious of its treasures. This is no characterize this slander as it deserves. It will not vain-glorious vaunting. The unabated kindness bear one moment's analysis. It is an utter impossiof three of the greatest men who ever adorned the bility under the circumstances. What! appeal to bench ought, in itself, to be a sufficient answer to Heaven for its testimony to a lie, and not expect to my traducers. Such men as these would scarcely be answered by its lightning? What! make such have given their countenance to one who, if what an appeal, conscious that an honorable colleague was said of him were true, deserved their con- sat beside me, whose valued friendship I must have demnation. I am not disposed, however, though I forever forfeited? But, above all and beyond all, might be well warranted in doing so, to shelter and too monstrous for belief, would I have dared to myself under the authority of names, no matter utter that falsehood in the very presence of the how illustrious. I give to each and all of these judge to whom, but the day before, I had confided charges a solemn and indignant contradiction, and the reality? There, upon the bench above me, sat I will now proceed to their refutation. The that time-honored man-that upright magistrate, charges are threefold, and I shall discuss them pure as his ermine, "narrowly watching" every word I said. Had I dared to make an appeal so First, I am accused of having retained Cour-horrible and so impious-had I dared so to outrage voisier's brief after having heard his confession. It is right that I should relate the manner of that confession, as it has been somewhat misapprehended. Many suppose it was made to me alone, and made in the prison. I never was in the prison since I was called to the bar, and but once before, being invited to see it by the then sheriffs. So strict is this rule, that the late Mr. Fauntleroy solicited a consultation there in vain with his other counsel and myself. It was on the second morning of the trial, just before the judges entered, that Courvoisier, standing publicly in front of the dock, solicited an interview with his counsel. My excellent friend and colleague, Mr. Clarkson, and myself immediately approached him. I beg of you to mark the presence of Mr. Clarkson, as it will become very material presently. Up to this morning I believed most firmly in his innocence, and so did many others as well as myself. "I have sent for you, gentlemen," said he, " to tell you I committed the murder!" When I could speak, which was not immediately, I said, "Of course, then, you are going to plead guilty?"-"No, sir," was the reply, "I expect you to defend me to the utmost." We returned to our seats. My position at this moment was, I believe, without parallel in the annals of the profession. I at once came to the resolution of abandoning the case, and so I told my colleague. He strongly and urgently remonstrated against it, but in vain.

seriatim.

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At last he suggested our obtaining the opinion of the learned judge who was not trying he cause upon what he considered to be the professional etiquette under circumstances so embarrassing. In this I very willingly acquiesced. We obtained an interview, and Mr. Baron Parke requested to know distinctly whether the prisoner insisted on my defending him, and, on hearing that

his nature and my own conscience, he would have
started from his seat and withered me with a glance.
No, Warren, I never made such an appeal; it is a
malignant untruth, and sure I am, had the person
who coined it but known what had previously oc
curred, he never would have uttered from his libel
mint so very clumsy and self-proclaiming a coun-
terfeit. So far for the verisimilitude of this charge.
But I will not rest either on improbability, or argu-
ment, or even denial. I have a better and a conclu-
sive answer. The trial terminated on Saturday
evening. On Sunday I was shown in a newspaper
the passage imputed to me. I took the paper to court
on Monday, and, in the aldermen's room, before all
assembled, after reading the paragraph aloud, I thus
addressed the judges-" I take the very first oppor
tunity which offers, my lords, of most respectfully
inquiring of you whether I ever used any such
expression?"" You certainly did not, Phillips,"
was the reply of the late lamented lord chief
justice, “and I will be your vouchee whenever you
choose to call me.
.”—“ And I,” said Mr. Baron
Parke, happily still spared to us, "had a reason
which the lord chief justice did not know for
watching you narrowly, and he will remember my
saying to him, when you sat down, Brother Tindal,
did you observe how carefully Phillips abstained
from giving any personal opinion in the case?' To
this the learned chief justice instantly assented."
This is my answer to the second charge.

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Thirdly, and lastly, I am accused of having endeavored to cast upon the female servants the guilt which I knew was attributable to Courvoisier. You will observe, of course, that the gravamen of this consists in my having done so after the confession. The answer to this is obvious. Courvoisier did not confess till Friday: the cross-examination took

place the day before, and so far, therefore, the accusation is disposed of. But it may be said I did so in my address to the jury. Before refuting this, let me observe upon the disheartening circumstances under which that address was delivered. At the close of the, to me, most wretched day on which the confession was made, the prisoner sent me this astounding message by his solicitor-"Tell Mr. Phillips, my counsel, that I consider he has my life in his hands." My answer was, that as he must be present himself, he would have an opportunity of seeing whether I deserted him or not. I was to speak on the next morning. But what a night preceded it! Fevered and horror-stricken, I could find no repose. If I slumbered for a moment, the murderer's form arose before me, scaring sleep away, now muttering his awful crime, and now shrieking to me to save his life! I did try to save it. I did everything to save it except that which is imputed to me, but that I did not, and I will prove it. I have since pondered much upon this subject, and I am satisfied that my original impression was erroneous. I had no right to throw up my brief, and turn traitor to the wretch, wretch though he was, who had confided in me. The counsel for a prisoner has no option. The moment he accepts his brief, every faculty he possesses becomes his client's property. It is an implied contract between him and the man who trusts him. Out of the profession this may be a moot point; but it was asserted and acted on by two illustrious advocates of our own day, even to the confronting of a king, and, to the regal honor be it spoken, these dauntless men were afterwards promoted to the highest dignities.

You will ask me here whether I contend on this principle for the right of doing that of which I am accused, namely, casting the guilt upon the innocent? I do no such thing; and I deny the imputation altogether. You will still bear in mind what I have said before, that I scarcely could have dared to do so under the eye of Baron Parke and in the presence of Mr. Clarkson. To act so, I must have been insane. But to set this matter at rest, I have referred to my address as reported in the "Times” -a journal the fidelity of whose reports was never questioned. You will be amazed to hear that I not only did not do that of which I am accused, but that I did the very reverse. Fearing that, nervous and unstrung as I was, I might do any injustice in the course of a lengthened speech, by even an ambiguous expression, I find these words reported in the "Times:"-"Mr. Phillips said the prosecutors were bound to prove the guilt of the prisoner, not by inference, by reasoning, by such subtile and refined ingenuity as had been used, but by downright, clear, open, palpable demonstration. How did they seek to do this? What said Mr. Adolphus and his witness, Sarah Mancer? And here he would beg the jury not to suppose for a moment, in the course of the narrative with which he must trouble them, that he meant to cast the crime upon either of the female servants. It was not at all necessary to his case to do so. It was neither his interest, his duty, nor his policy, to do so. God forbid that any breath of his should send tainted into the world persons depending for their subsistence on their character." Surely this ought to be sufficient. I cannot allude, however, to this giant of the press, whose might can make or unmake a reputation, without gratefully acknowledging that it never lent its great circulation to these libels. It had too much justice. The "Morning Chronicle," the "Morning Herald,"

66

and the " Morning Post," the only journals to which I have access, fully corroborate the" Times," if, indeed, such a journal needed corroboration. The "Chronicle" runs thus :-" In the first place, says my friend Mr. Adolphus, and says his witness Sarah Mancer—and here I beg to do an act of justic, and to assure you that I do not for a moment mean to suggest in the whole course of my narrative that this crime may have been committed by the female servants of the deceased nobleman." The "Morning Post" runs thus:-"Mr. Adolphus called a witness, Sarah Mancer. But let me do myself justice, and others justice, by now stating, that in the whole course of the narrative with which I must trouble you, I beg you would not suppose that I am in the least degree seeking to cast the crime upon any of the witnesses. God forbid that any breath of mine should send persons depending on the public for subsistence into the world with a tainted character." I find the " Morning Herald" reporting me as follows:-“ Mr. Adolphus called a witness named Sarah Mancer. But let me do myself justice and others justice by now stating that in the whole course of the narrative with which I must trouble you, I must beg that you will not suppose that I am in the least degree seeking to cast blame upon any of the witnesses." Can any disclaimer be more complete ? And yet, in the face of this, for nine successive years has this most unscrupulous of slanderers reiterated his charge. Not quite three weeks ago he recurs to it in these terms :-" How much worse was the attempt of Mr. Phillips to throw the suspicion of the murder of Lord William Russell on the innocent female servants, in order to procure the acquittal of his client Courvoisier, of whose guilt he was cognizant?" I have read with care the whole report in the "Times" of that three hours' speech, and I do not find a passage to give this charge countenance. But surely, surely, in the agitated state in which I was, had even an ambiguous expression dropped from me, the above broad disclaimer would have been its efficient antidote.

Such is my answer to the last charge; and, come what will, it shall be my final answer. No envenomed reiteration, no popular delusion, no importunity of friendship, shall ever draw from me another syllable. I shall remain in future, as I have been heretofore, auditor tantum. You know well how strenuously and how repeatedly you pressed me to my vindication, especially after Lord Denman's important conversation with you, and you know the stern disdain with which I dissented. The mens conscia recti, a thorough contempt for my traducer, the belief that truth would in the end prevail, and a self-humiliation at stooping to a defence, amply sustained me amid the almost national outery which calumny had created. Relying doubtless upon this, month after month, for nine successive years, my accuser has iterated and reiterated his libels in terms so gross, so vulgar, and so disgraceful, that my most valued friends thought it my duty to them publicly to refute them. To that consideration. and to that alone, I have yielded; in deference to theirs, relinquishing my own opinions. If they suppose, however, that slander, because answered, will be silenced, they will find themselves mistaken.

Destroy the web of sophistry--in vain-
The creature's at his dirty work again.

No, no, my dear friend, invention is a libeller's

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