charge. I have seen a pamphlet which contains letters from many of the counsel who were then present, positively stating that nothing of the kind occurred; and I give an extract from one written by Mr. Samuel Warren, in which he thus disposes of the subject: I was dining,' writes Mr. Warren, some time ago with Lord Denman, when I mentioned to him the serious charge against you which had recently been revived by the Examiner. His lordship immediately stated that he had inquired into the matter, and found the charge to be utterly unfounded; that he had spoken on the subject to Mr. Baron Parke-who sat on the bench beside Chief-justice Tyndal, who tried the case-and that Baron Parke told him he had, for reasons of his own, carefully watched every word you uttered; and assured Lord Denman that your address was perfectly unexceptionable, and that you made no such statement as that which was subsequently attributed to you. The charge of having endeavoured to cast suspicion upon the female servants is as easily disposed of. Phillips's cross-examination of these servants took place on Wednesday, and it was not until the evening of the following day Courvoisier admitted to him his guilt.'

-were

Phillips's friends—and I never knew a man who had more— greatly pleased at this triumphant vindication. An opportunity soon afterwards occurred which proved to me the extent of his popularity. I had been amused by observing in the newspapers a judg ment he had delivered in the case of an insolvent baker, who had returned in his schedule, among other assets, a fast-trotting pony.' 'Sir,' said the Commissioner, with much solemnity, I am not surprised at the position in which you find yourself. Set a beggar on horseback, and you know in what direction he rides; but put a baker behind a fast-trotting pony, and that animal will inevitably conduct him to this court before he knows where he is.' Not long afterwards, while crossing Fleet-street, Phillips was run over and nearly killed. I heard of the accident, and called at his house to inquire after his condition. On that occasion I ventured to suggest that it might have been the same fast-trotting pony, driven by the vindictive baker, which had caused the disaster. He laughed heartily, and pointing to his table, which was covered with cards and notes of inquiry, said that, having recovered from the effects of the accident, he was not sorry it had occurred, for it showed him he had more friends left who took an interest in him than he imagined. Of these the late Mr. Justice Maule was one who occupied a high place in his regard. He was fond of relating the quaint sayings of this eminent personage. 'I I defended,' he said, a man before him who was tried for murder, and convicted. The judge asked the prisoner, in the usual form, whether he had anything to say in arrest of judgment. The ruffian flung up both his arms to Heaven, and exclaimed: "May God Almighty strike me down dead on the spot if I had hand, act,

or part in this matter!" Maule took out his watch, and, looking attentively at the prisoner, paused for at least a minute; then he said: "Prisoner at the bar, I have waited patiently for some time. to see whether that Almighty Being whom you have so impiously invoked would interfere on this occasion, and relieve me from the necessity of pronouncing judgment upon you; but as he has not done so, then it is my duty to pass the usual sentence of the law-that you be taken from hence to the place of execution, and hanged, &c.""

Phillips was a kind-hearted and a generous man, but at the same time, I fear, a little selfish. In his early life he had probably experienced the pinchings of a narrow fortune, and I do not think he was much given to hospitality. But he was kind to the poor, and at Brighton, I remember, he always carried a half-crown in his hand. for a character indigenous to the place called Tom-an old sailor who had lost his legs, and spent much of his time in a chair drawn by a goat. He had a biscuit, too, for Mr. Prior's old white bull-terrier. Both these recipients of his bounty proved unworthy of it. Tom disappeared-goat, carriage, and all-deeply in debt to his tradespeople; and the white bull-terrier tried to bite his benefactor in the calf of the leg. It is probable that these little incidents were but a repetition of others which, happening in his early life, had hardened his heart; for he had a nervous aversion, amounting almost to horror, of impecuniosity in all its shapes, and he avoided as he would a pestilence the society of any one whom he thought could, by the most remote chance, have any design upon his pocket.

Phillips was a brilliant and polished writer. He had a fine command of good Saxon words, and might have won a place in literature, had the harassing occupations of a busy life afforded him time for its cultivation. He has left behind him, besides his life of Curran, some volumes of poetry, one of which, the Emerald Isle, is dedicated to the Prince Regent, whom he calls 'Ireland's hope and England's ornament.' He was fond of writing pamphlets, too, on such topics as interested the public of the day. The last of these which I remember was in favour of the abolition of capital punishment. But his end was now drawing near; each successive season I met him at Brighton he seemed to grow feebler. He had outlived the ordinary span allotted to human life, and he died in harness. He was seized with an apoplectic fit while presiding in his Court at Portugal-street, and never recovered. Much to the surprise of those who knew him, he left behind him a large fortune-upwards of 40,000l.; and the house in King-street, formerly occupied by the imperial tenant of whom he was so proud, is now the property of one of his daughters.

It is said of Phillips's friend Curran that, when an enterprising littérateur asked to be supplied with materials for the purpose of

writing his life, the Master of the Rolls replied, 'Take it, rather.' I fear my old friend, could he have anticipated my present design, would have inquired with stern solemnity how he had ever injured me, that I should add one more to the terrors of death; but I have long desired to vindicate his memory from an unjust aspersion. I have seldom heard his name mentioned without hearing it also coupled with an accusation which I have shown to be unfounded; au reste, although he was but an Old-Bailey barrister, he was one of the most remarkable men I have ever known. Grattan said of O'Connell that he was a bad patriot and a worse rebel. Phillips had not one spark of patriotism in his composition; he preferred the flesh-pots of the country of his adoption to the potatoes of his native land. This exile never wept by the waters of the Thames as he thought of Zion; indeed, he hoped he would never set his foot in that green country any more; and he never did. His loyalty was undoubted, but the king who owned his allegiance was Brougham; and if I could lift the veil which hides the portals of that undiscovered country, I have no doubt that where the shadow of that Anax Andron stalks through the Elysian fields, the humble shade of his faithful friend will be somewhere near. Heaven would be no paradise to Charles Phillips without the presence of Henry Lord Brougham.

PERCY BOYD, M.A.