It was indeed a painful scene. The eleven men who had taken part in the discussion were entirely exhausted. Some were slumbering from weakness, others were wearily "talking on their fingers." Hunger had made these last absolutely dumb. Reams of papers were scattered about covered with writing. Here and there was a quill-pen partly consumed. Even the blotting-pads testified to the presence of hungry men—some of the leaves showed the traces of a stealthy nibble. In the heat of argument hours before, a juryman, anxious to impress an opinion upon a sceptic colleague, had offered to "eat his hat." He now gazed at the head-gear with greedy eyes, as if anxious to carry out his proposition.
The Foreman, in a whisper, asked if anyone had any further suggestions to make.
Then the rage of the starving one gave him fictitious strength. He stood up, and shrieked out, "I express my opinion that the non-supply of refreshments to the Jury for several hours is a blot on the legal system of the country!"
In a moment the Foreman and his colleagues sprang to their feet, and, making a supreme effort, shouted out, "Agreed! agreed! agreed!"
And what further did these poor famished men, these heroes of the long, foodless day, these martyrs to a cruel system—a wretched system—these victims to an abuse that should be swept away like chaff before the wind—ay, what farther did they do after their trumpet-tongued cry of indignant denunciation?
Why (it is to be sincerely hoped) that they went home and had their dinner!
THE BICYCLISTS OF ENGLAND.
"Mr. Sturmey, in the preface to the new edition of his Handbook of Bicycling, sketches the progress of this enormously popular amusement since the appearance of his last edition, rather more than five years ago."—Daily Paper.
