he had met the duke of Marlborough, and these circumstances of his grace's taking notice of him; he mentioned it as an extraordinary thing. I asked him, if he had not looked a little impudently (as he has a near sight) at him, or pulled his glass out? He said, he saw another gentleman at a distance, and the duke was armed; and he imagined there might be a duel going forwards; he has from that time to this mentioned it as a very strange event several times in my house, without any reserve at all.

Cross-examination. . . .

Did you hear him mention his seeing the duke of Marlborough in Westminster Abbey ?-I have very often, and very publicly, and with some surprise; as he has that in Hyde Park. I said to him, I would not have you be public in speaking of things of this kind, lest a use be made of it to your disadvantage.

Thomas Barnard sworn.

T. Barnard. - I am first cousin to the prisoner at the bar. On Saturday, the 3d of December, I was at Kensington, and lay at my uncle's house there and dined there. On the Sunday the prisoner came there before dinner, he said he had been to do some business that way. He dined with us; there were my uncle, aunt, he, and I; he related that circumstance to us of meeting with the duke of Marlborough in Hyde Park; he said he rode up to him, and asked if he knew who he was; he answered, No; he replied, I am the duke of Marlborough. He related it with some cheerfulness, though as a matter of surprise.

How long have you known the prisoner? From his birth; he is in business with his father; I always understood he would succeed his father; I never knew him to behave any otherwise than well in my life. I never thought him extravagant, nor never heard so; I had always looked upon him to be an honest man; his father is in very great business.

Joseph Barnard sworn.

J. Barnard.—I am uncle to the

prisoner at the bar; I live at Kensington; my nephew Thomas Barnard lay at my house on the Saturday night, and dined with the prisoner at the bar on the Sunday. I remember he then mentioned having met with the duke of Marlborough in Hyde Park, while we were sitting at dinner. I said I was surprised he should meet with him that day; he said he saw but one gentleman at a distance, and that the duke was armed; and his grace looked him full in the face, very earnestly (which he seemed to speak with a great deal of pleasure to me); he is very nearsighted, he can see nothing at a distance without the use of a glass. I have heard him since speak four or five times of seeing the duke in Westminster Abbey.

Thomas Calcut sworn.

T. Calcut. I live at Kensington; I remember the prisoner coming there on a Sunday morning; a very cold, foggy morning; with some message from his father to me, to know whether the solicitor had paid some money or not. He was under his father, as I am under mine; he desired me to go with him; I said, stay and dine with me; he said, he could not promise, because he had promised to dine with his uncle Joseph; he went into the parlor, and said, it is vastly cold; there has been the oddest accident happened as I came over the Park! the duke of Marlborough came up to me, and asked me, if I knew him? I said, No; He asked me, if I wanted anything with him? I told him, No. He said, I am the duke of Marlborough, if you want anything with me; then the duke went away, and he came there. He expressed a great surprise at it, and I thought it a very odd affair. . .

Mrs. Mary Wilson sworn.

Mrs. Wilson.—I dined at Mr. Barnard's on Thursday, the 8th of December; the prisoner I remem

ber said he had been in Hyde Park some days before, and there he saw a gentleman on horseback come up to him, and asked him, if he had anything to say to him? He said, No; then he said, I am the duke of Marlborough, now you know me, have you anything to say to me? He said, No. He talked of this very freely to us all.

James Greenwood sworn.

Greenwood. I live at Deptford, with a relation in the brewing way; I came from Deptford on Saturday to the prisoner's father's; and on the Sunday following I was there at breakfast; I solicited the prisoner to get himself dressed to go with me into the Park, being to meet a person at twelve o'clock; I with a good deal of difficulty got him to dress himself; I put my shirt on in the parlor, and after that he put on his; I fancy we breakfasted about nine o'clock; when we got to the end of Henry VII's chapel, the prisoner would have gone the other way into the Park without going through the Abbey; I took hold of his sleeve, and said, Barnard, you shall go through the Abbey. . . . After we had stayed there some time, I saw his grace the duke of Marlborough, who was got pretty near us; upon seeing the duke, I jogged him by the elbow, and said, step this way; he seemed to look at him.

Had you heard what happened in Hyde Park previous to this? I had; I believe it was told me by the prisoner at the bar; on my jogging him we walked up the middle isle towards the choir. I said, did you see that gentleman in the blue coat, or do you know him? No, said he, not I. No? said I, it is the duke of Marlborough; we will walk to the monument again. The duke came, and placed himself pretty near me a second time; after this we walked away.

Why did you jog him?-Because he is very nearsighted. At last I think it so happened, we passed the duke between two of the pillars;

and as I had hold of his arm walking together, there was barely room for three people to pass abreast; the duke rather gave way, and made, as I thought, a kind of bow. Upon this I said, the duke of Marlborough's behavior is extremely particular; he certainly has something to say to you; I suppose he does not choose to say it while I am with you, I will go into the choir, and do you walk up and down here, and he will possibly speak to you. While I was there, I looked; the first thing I saw was the duke of Marlborough and the prisoner at the bar, with their heads bowing together, as if it was the first salutation.

Had the prisoner the least inclination to go into the Abbey before you proposed it to him?No; he did not discover any.

Did he discover any inclination to be left alone, when you proposed to go into the choir?—No, he did not in the least; in some few minutes after, the prisoner and I met together, he told me the duke of Marlborough was gone out of the Abbey, he had seen him go out. I said, What passed? To which he replied, the duke said, did you speak to me? or who spoke first I cannot tell.

In this transaction did the prisoner appear openly, or as if he had some secret transaction to do with the duke? No, it was open and clear.

Did you see the duke come in? No, I did not; we were employed in looking at the monuments; we looked at several. . . .

Where did you go when you went out of the Abbey?-We went immediately into the Park; and after walking there, we met with two ladies whom I knew, and to whom Mr. Barnard was not unknown, to whom we related this affair; he always related these things, that is, this and that in Hyde Park, as matter of great curiosity.

How long have you been acquainted with him?-I have been acquainted with him seven years.

What is his character? - I know nothing to the contrary but that he is an industrious, sober young man.

Did you ever hear that he was a profligate, expensive young man? No, never.

His father is in great business, is he not? His father's business is a very considerable thing.

The Rev. Dr. Markham sworn. Dr. Markham. I have known the prisoner some years; I have always considered him as a young man of remarkable sobriety and attention to business. I have had some experience of him; I intrusted him with the execution of some matters of importance relating to myself. . . . If he had come to me wanting money, he might easily have imposed on me; he might have had anything of me; he is one of the chief persons I trusted, and I don't know a man on whom I would have had a greater reliance; I thought him remarkably able in his business, and very likely to be a considerable man; and I never was more astonished in my life than when I heard this strange story.

...

Mr. Serjeant Dary (for the prosecution):

My lord, and gentlemen of the jury; I am sorry to take up any more of your time; but the defense consisting of various parts, I would beg leave to trespass a little longer on your patience. . . . I do not mean to draw your attention back to the several circumstances of the prosecution; they are all before you, and they are too strong and striking to be easily forgot. . . . It will remain for your consideration, it is now the capital question, whether these circumstances laid before you, consisting of five or six parts on the part of the prisoner, may be reconciled with the suspicion of his guilt? Because, if they may, it is no defense at all. Gentlemen, the first is, the prisoner being sent by his father to Kensington on this Sunday on which he met the duke in Hyde Park. . . . His father

talked of his going; he did gowhat does that prove? Does it prove he was not to go to Hyde Park any other way? Whoever was the writer of these letters, certainly intended to have a meeting on both the Sundays, in the Park and in the Abbey, in a very public manner. . . . Gentlemen, the next part of the defense is, that he at several times and to several people related the meetings he had had with the duke, and the extraordinary occurrences. This indeed corresponds with the observations I made: the writer of these letters proposed to meet the duke at a time that people were walking out on a Sunday, and in the Abbey, the most public places, and at the most public times: is that irreconcilable with the suspicion that the prisoner (if he was the author of these letters) might have been contriving with other persons, telling people of the several meetings he had had with the duke, and the substance of those meetings? . . . The next circumstance is, Mr. Greenwood's evidence of going with him to Westminster Abbey. There is not a circumstance in all that part of the story of Mr. Greenwood's evidence, which suits so well as this of his guilt; first he wanted to get rid of Mr. Greenwood, and when he could not do that, then making no secret of having seen the duke, and make that tally with his telling him he had met him. . . .

These are all the circumstances that they have insisted upon as proofs of his innocence, except one, that is his character. . . . Gentlemen, when you come to consider that, character goes but a very little, and indeed no way at all, towards proving his innocence. .. Might it not happen that, a man betwixt twenty and thirty years of age, dependent in some measure upon his father, might have a secret call for money, which he would wish his father, and those friends that are fond of lending money, not to be acquainted with? We know very

well, there are certain circumstances, some in this capital city of London, where a man might be very hard driven for the want of money, which he would choose to hide from his friends. . . . Gentlemen, he is safe in your hands. I doubt not but that you will do your duty;

if you think him guilty, you will find him so; if not, you will acquit him. With regard to the duke, his grace has discharged his duty which he owed to the public, which he will at all times do, and is perfectly indifferent about the issue of it.

The jury acquitted the prisoner.