The man, however, for some reason or other, did surrender like a good citizen, and the man who did not appear was his own leading counsel Clarkson.  He never even looked in, and the conduct of the case, therefore, devolved on me.  I did my best for him, however, and succeeded.  The man was acquitted.

Not content with this piece of good fortune, for such indeed it was, he was ill-advised enough to bring an action for malicious prosecution.  Lord Denman tried it, and told him it was a most impudent action, and he was astonished that he was not convicted.

During this conversation another, of no little importance, took place, and Lord Westbury is reported to have said,—­

“I did not assert that the House of Lords had abolished hell with costs, although I have no doubt that the large majority would gladly assent to any such decree—­all, in fact, except the Bishops.”

As I never listen to after-dinner theology, I forbear comment on this subject; but before this time there had been a curious action brought by a churchwarden against his vicar for refusing to administer the Sacrament to him, on the ground that he did not believe in the personality of the devil.  After the decisions in the courts below, it was finally determined by the House of Lords that the vicar was wrong.  Hence it was that Westbury was reported to have said that the House of Lords had abolished hell with costs.  “What I did say,” said Westbury, “was that the poor churchwarden who did not at one time believe in the personality of the devil returned to the true orthodox Christian faith when he received his attorney’s bill.”

Turning to me, his lordship said,—­

“My dear Hawkins, you shall write your reminiscences, and, what is more, they shall be printed in good type, and, what is more, the first copy shall be directed to me.”

And so it should be, if I only knew his address.

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE LITTLE MOUSE AND THE PRISONER.

I come now to a small event which occurred during my judgeship, and which I call my little mouse story.

I was presiding at the Old Bailey Sessions, and a case came before me of a prisoner who was undergoing a term of two years’ imprisonment with hard labour for some offence against the Post Office.

The charge against him on the present occasion was attempting to murder or do grievous bodily harm to a prison warder.  This officer was on duty in the prisoner’s cell when the assault took place.

The facts relied on by the Crown were simple enough.  The warder had gone into the cell to take the man’s dinner, when suddenly the prisoner seized the knife brought for his use, and made a rush at the warder with it in his hand, at the same time uttering threats and imprecations.

Believing his life to be in danger, the warder ran to the door and got outside into the adjoining corridor, pulling the cell door to after him and closing it.