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LXXXIV.
JUDICA ME DEUS, ET DISCERNE CAUSAM MEAM DEGENTE NON SANCTA;
AB HOMINE INIQUO ET DOLOSO ERUE ME.
SUPREME COURT.
Wednesday, March 21st, 1855.
(Before his Honour Mr. Justice Barry.)
MY STATE TRIAL.
His Honour took his seat shortly after ten o'clock. The prisoner, that is myself, was placed in the dock, and the following Jury sworn (after the usual challenging):——
Philip Bragg, Gore-street, Farmer,
Alexander Bartholomew, Brighton-road, Joiner.
James Black, Greville-street, Butcher,
Charles Butt, Lennox-street, Carpenter,
Thomas Bell, Lennox-street, Carpenter,
Frederick Baines, Richmond-road, Painter,
Charles Belford, Kew, Gardener,
William Broadhurst, Wellington-street, Grocer,
Joseph Berry, Hawthorne, Farmer,
David Boyle, Kew, Gardener,
William Barnett, Heidelberg, Gardener,
John Bates, Rowena-street, Baker.
Brava gente. Dio vi benedica. Mio Fratello desidera veder ciascuno di Voi, nella nostra Bella Itallia.
For the first time in my life (37 years old), I was placed in a felon's dock, and before a British jury.
The first glance I gave to the foreman made me all serene. I was sure that the right man was in the right place.
James Macpherson Grant, my attorney for the defence, was "all there."
Richard Davis Ireland, barrister, my counsel, was heavy with thunder. Thick, sound, robust, round-headed as he is, the glance of his eyes is irresistible. A pair of bushy whiskers frame in such a shrew forehead, astute nose, thundering mouth; that one had better keep at a respectful distance from drakes. His whole head and strong-built frame tell that he is ready to settle at once with anybody, either with the tongue or with the fist. His eloquence savours pretty strongly of Daniel O'Connell, and is flavoured with colonial pepper: hence
Brava gente, Dio vi henedica. Mio Fratello desidera veder ciascxmo di Voif nellatwatra Bella Itallia,
For the first time in my life (37 years old), I was placed in a felon'* dock, and before a British jury.
The first glance I gave to the foreman made me all serene. I was rare that the right man was in the right place.
James Macpherson Grant, my attorney for the defence, was "all there."
Richard Davis Ireland, barrister, my counsel, was heavy with thunder. Thick, sound, robust, round-headed as he is, the glance of his eyes is irresistible. A pair of bushy whiskers frame in such a shrewd forehead, astute nose, thundering mouth; that one had better keep at a respectful distance from drakes. His whole head and strongbuilt frame tell that he is ready to settle at once with anybody, either with the tongue or with the fist. His eloquence savours pretty strongly of Daniel O'Connell, and is flavoured with colonial pepper: hence
