“For what have you been committed?”
“Well, ye ken,” replied Mr. Sadd, “it’s jest a bit mistake. I’ve been neglacted by my soleecitor.”
“I see,” said the Chaplain. “Contempt of Court,” and he wrote that down opposite the inventor’s name. “What religion?”
“A’m a member of the Auld Kirk,” replied the contemptuous prisoner.
“I should have thought that even in the Auld Kirk,” said the clergyman, “they would have taught you to obey the law. Here is a book for you,” and he handed him a copy of the hymn-book used in the chapel, turned sharply round, and left the long, bare apartment, now looking longer and more bare than ever in the eyes of the latest inmate. Sadd soon, however, recovered his accustomed spirits, and eventually became sufficiently composed to look through the hymnal. As he by no means relished the chaplain’s sneer at the Church of his fathers, he observed somewhat maliciously to his companions, holding up the book of sacred songs,—
“Comparrit wi’ the Psawlms of David, they’re a wheen blithers,” an observation which was heartily applauded by the other misdemeanants as indirectly reflecting on the parson.
The next day Mrs. Sadd appeared upon the scene, conveying a basket of delicacies not included in the prison fare, and conveying also the information that it would take some days before the judge was in a temper to be addressed on the subject of Sadd’s contempt. When three days had passed, and the judge was tackled by an eminent Queen’s Counsel, he absolutely refused to reconsider his sentence.
“Let the prisoner surrender the documents, and then the Court will consider whether or not he has purged the contempt.”
Thus my lord on the Bench.
But Sadd was firm, and through his solicitor petitioned the Home Secretary. The Home Secretary, having taken three weeks to consider the matter, refused to interfere with the order of the judge.