questions put by the prisoner's counsel in his
behalf.

The triumph of falsehood was complete.
The prisoner was acquitted. When however
the attention of prosecutors is called to the
possibility of such fabrications they become
less easy of management. The friends of a
prisoner are often known to the police, and
may be watched—the actors may be surprised
at the rehearsal; a false ally may be inserted
among them; in short there are many
chances of the plot failing. This however is
an age of improvement, and the thirty years
which have elapsed since the days of Luddism
have not been a barren period in any art
or science. The mystery of cookery in dishes,
accounts, and alibis, has profited by this
general advancement. The latest device which
my acquaintance with courts has brought to
my knowledge is an alibi of a very refined
and subtle nature. The hypothesis is, that
the prisoner was walking from point A to
point Z, along a distant road, at the hour
when the crime was committed. The
witnesses are supposed each to see him, and
some to converse with him, at points which
may be indicated by many or all the letters
of the alphabet. Each witness must be alone
when he sees him, so that no two may speak
to what occurred at the same spot or moment
of time; but, with this reservation, each may
safely indulge his imagination with any
account of the interview which he has wit to
make consistent with itself, and firmness to
abide by under the storm of a cross-examination.
"The force of falsehood can no farther
go." No rehearsal is necessary. Neither of
the witnesses needs know of the existence of
the others. The agent gives to each witness
the name of the spot at which he is to place
the prisoner. The witness makes himself
acquainted with that spot, so as to stand a
cross-examination as to the surrounding
objects, and his education is complete. But as
panaceas have only a fabulous existence, so
this exquisite alibi is not applicable to all
cases; the witness must have a reason for
being on the spot, plausible enough to foil the
skill of the cross-examiner; and, as false
witnesses cannot be found at every turn, the
difficulty of making it accord with the
probability that the witness was where he
pretends to have been on the day and at the
hour in question, is often insuperable; to say
nothing of the possibility and probability of
its being clearly established, on the part of
the prosecution, that the prisoner could not
have been there. I should add, that, except
in towns of the first magnitude, it must
be difficult to find mendacious witnesses who
have in other respects the proper qualifications
to prove a concocted alibi, save always
where the prisoner is the champion of a
class; and then, according to my experience,
—sad as the avowal is,—the difficulty is
greatly reduced.

These incidents illustrate the soundness of
the well known proposition, that mixture of
truth with falsehood, augments to the highest
degree the noxious power of the venomous
ingredient. That man was no mean proficient
in the art of deceiving, who first discovered
the importance of the liar being parsimonious
in mendacity. The mind has a stomach as
well as an eye, and if the bolus be neat falsehood,
it will be rejected like an overdose of
arsenic which does not kill.

Let the juryman ponder these things, and
beware how he lets his mind lapse into a
conclusion either for or against the prisoner.
To perform the duties of his office, so that the
days which he spends in the jury box will
bear retrospection, his eye, his ears, and his
intellect must be ever on the watch. A
witness in the box, and the same man in
common life, are different creatures. Coming
to give evidence, "he doth suffer a law change."
Sometimes he becomes more truthful, as he
ought to do, if any change is necessary; but
unhappily this is not always so, and least of
all in the case of those whose testimony is often
required.

I remember a person, whom I frequently
heard to give evidence quite out of harmony
with the facts, but I shall state neither his
name nor his profession. A gentleman who
knew perfectly well the unpalatable
designation which his evidence deserved, told me
of his death. I ventured to think it was a
loss which might be borne, and touched upon
his infirmity, to which my friend replied in
perfect sincerity of heart, "Well! after all,
I do not think he ever told a falsehood in his
life—out of the witness box!"

TWO ADVENTURES AT SEA.

HAVING made up my mind to sail for
Australia, my next care was to select a vessel.
They were not so plentiful, so punctual, or so
much puffed as they are now. For want of
knowing any better, and partly from a dislike
to crowds that has always been part of my
character, and perhaps did much toward
making me happy in the Bush when friends
and companions of the same age were miserable,
I took a passage in a small, fast-sailing
brig, under two hundred tons burden, which
was intended to be sold for a coaster in the
colony. The captain was going out to settle;
he took his wife with him, but I was the only
passenger. Captains on shore, and captains
at sea are quite different creatures. This was
one of the old school. On shore, he seemed
like a jolly fellow, rough and good-natured—
at sea, he was a perfect brute, got drunk
every evening, thrashed his wife, and ill-used
his men; but, although profoundly ignorant
on most subjects, a thorough seaman.

On the morning we were to sail, we lay in
the stream of the Mersey, blue Peter flying
and anchor tripped; we waited for the captain
and mate so long, it seemed as if we should
miss the tide. At length he came, as fast as