story, as well as to the defendant’s recognition of him by name as an old friend.  The Luie episode, terminating in the identification of that infamous witness as an habitual criminal and convict named Lundgren, only recently released on a ticket-of-leave, together with the complete disproof of his elaborate “Osprey” story, is familiar to the public.  It was a significant fact, that other witnesses for the defence were admitted to be associates of this rascal; while one of the most conspicuous of all—­a man calling himself “Captain” Brown—­had pretended to corroborate portions of Luie’s evidence which are now proved to be false.

Some allowance may perhaps be made in the defendant’s favour for the singularly unskilful and damaging character of his counsel Dr. Kenealy’s two addresses to the jury, which occupied no less than forty-three entire days.  This barrister not only made violent personal attacks on every witness of importance for the prosecution, without, as the judges observed, “any shadow of foundation,” but he assailed his own client with a vehemence and a persistence which are without parallel in the case of an advocate defending a person against a charge of perjury.  He gave up statements of the defendant at almost every period of his extraordinary story as “false;” declared them to be “moonshine;” expressed his conviction that no sensible person could for a moment believe them; acknowledged that to attempt to verify them in the face of the evidence, or even to reconcile them with each other, would be hopeless; set some down as “arrant nonsense,” denounced others as “Munchausenisms,” and recommended the jury “not to believe them” with a heartiness which would have been perfectly natural in the mouth of Mr. Hawkins, but which, coming from counsel for the defence, was, as one of the learned judges remarked, “strange indeed.”  But the doctrine of the learned gentleman was, that the very extent of the perjury should be his client’s protection, because it showed that he was not a man “to be tried by ordinary standards.”  When, in addition to this, he laboured day after day to persuade the jury that Roger Tichborne was a drunkard, a liar, a fool, an undutiful son, an ungrateful friend, and an abandoned libertine—­declared in loud and impassioned tones that he would “strip this jay of his borrowed plumes,” and indignantly repudiated the notion that the man his client claimed to be had one single good quality about him, the humour of the situation may be said to have reached its climax.  Yet Dr. Kenealy at least proved his sincerity by not only insinuating charges against the gentleman who disappeared with the “Bella,” but by actually calling witnesses to contradict point blank statements of his own client which lay at the very foundation of the charges of perjury against him.  There were, it is true, many unthinking persons of the kind that mistake sound for sense, who considered Dr. Kenealy a vastly clever fellow.  If he be so, then the