said to the witness, “Whose hat is this?”
“Well, Mr. O'Connell
, that is Mike's hat.” --“How do you know it?”
“I will swear to it, sir.” --“And did you really find it by the murdered man?”
“I did that, sir.” --“But you're not ready to swear that?”
“I am, indeed, Mr. O'Connell
, do you know what hangs on your word?
A human soul.
And with that dread burden, are you ready to tell this jury that the hat, to your certain knowledge, belongs to the prisoner?”
“Y-yes, Mr. O'Connell
, yes, I am.”
takes the hat to the nearest window, and peers into it,--“J-a-m-e-s, James
, did you see that name in the hat?”
“I did, Mr. O'Connell
.” --“You knew it was there?”
“Yes, sir; I read it after I picked it up.” --“No name in the hat, your honor.”
So again in the House of Commons.
When he took his seat in the House
of 1830, the London Times
visited him with its constant indignation, reported his speeches awry, turned them inside out, and made nonsense of them; treated him as the New York Herald
used to treat us Abolitionists twenty years ago. So one morning he rose and said, “Mr. Speaker
, you know I have never opened my lips in this House, and I expended twenty years of hard work in getting the right to enter it,--I have never lifted my voice in this House, but in behalf of the saddest people the sun shines on. Is it fair play, Mr. Speaker
, is it what you call ‘ English fair play’ that the press of this city will not let my voice be heard?”
The next day the Times
sent him word that, as he found fault with their manner of reporting him, they never would report him at all, they never would print his name in their parliamentary columns.
So the next day when prayers were ended, O'Connell
Those reporters of the Times
who were in the gallery rose also, ostentatiously put away their pencils, folded their arms, and