I was asked, I know, by some impatient member of the Bar whether a case in which he was engaged could not go over till the morning.

This gave immense encouragement to an independent juryman, who evidently was determined to beard the lion in his den, and possibly shake off “the dewdrops of his British indignation.”

I never believed in British lions, except on his Majesty’s quarterings; and although they look very formidable in heraldry, I never found them so in fact.  Indeed, if the British lion was ever a native of the British Isles, he must have become extinct, for I have never heard so much as an imitation growl from him except in Hyde Park on a Sunday.

The British lion, however, in this case seemed to assert himself in the jury-box, and rising on his hind legs, said in a husky voice, which appeared to come from some concealed cupboard in his bosom,—­

“My lord!”

“Yes?” I said in my blandest manner.

“My lord, this ’ere ——­ is a little bit stiff, my lord, with all respect for your lordship.”

“What is that, sir?”

“Why, my lord, I’ve been cramped up in this ’ere narrer box for fourteen hours, and the seat’s that hard and the back so straight up that now I gets out on it I ain’t got a leg to stand on.”

“I’m sorry for the chair,” I said.

He was a very thick-set man, and the whole of the jury burst into a laugh.  Then he went on, with tears in his eyes,—­

“My lord, when I went home last night arter sittin’ here so many hours I couldn’t sleep a wink.”

I could not help saying,—­

“Then it is no use going to bed; we may as well finish the business.”

That was all very well for him, but another juryman arose, amidst roars of laughter, and lifted up a hard, wooden-bottomed chair, and beat it with his heavy walking-stick.

The chair was perfectly indifferent to the treatment it was receiving after supporting the juryman for so many hours without the smallest hope of any reward, and I then asked,—­

“Is that to keep order, sir?”

The excitement continued for a long time, but at last it subsided, and I suggested a compromise.

I said probably the gentlemen in the next case would not speak for more than one hour each, and if they would agree to this I would undertake to sum up in five minutes.

The husky lion sat down, and so did the musician.  The jury acquitted and went home.

These are some of the caprices of a jury which a Judge has sometimes to put up with, and it has often been said that Judges are more tried than prisoners.  Perhaps that is so, especially when, if they do not get the kind of rough music I have mentioned from the jury-box, they sometimes receive a by no means complimentary address from the prisoner.  One occurs to my mind, with which I will close this chapter.

I had occasion to sentence to death a soldier for a cruel murder by taking the life of his sergeant.  It was at Winchester, and after I had uttered the fatal words the culprit turned savagely towards me, and in a loud, gruff voice cried, “Curse you!”