Recently there stood in the dock of the Old Bailey, famed London law court, one more tatterdemalion derelict of the thousands that file in and out of that hall of Justice every year. His furtive, watery eye, his mumbled speech and disconsolate countenance marked him for a waif indeed. He was penniless, friendless, and without an advocate.
But good English custom lets no man, however sunken in estate, go undefended at his trial by law. The judge told the prisoner to look about and choose whom he would from the gathering of barristers...
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