proceeds by slow and regular gradations, and requires so many antecedent ceremonies to the ultimate discussion of a court of justice, that so far from being in danger of a condemnation without a fair and open trial, every man must be tried more than once, before he can receive a capital sentence. By the law of England, no man can be apprehended for felony, without a strong and just suspicion of his guilt; nor can he be committed to prison, without a charge on oath before a lawful magistrate. This charge must be again proved on oath, to the satisfaction of a large number (twelve at least) of the better sort of his countrymen (except in the case of an Appeal of Felony, which is now obsolete, and where the proceedings are still more ceremonial and tedious); before the accused can be required to answer to it, or be put on his defence; and after all these preparatives, the truth of this charge is to be tried in an open court of justice, before one at least and often many judges, by twelve indifferent and unexceptionable men: I may truly say unexceptionable, since it is in the prisoner's power to except against twentyfour without showing any cause, and as many more as he can show a reasonable cause of exception against. These, after a patient hearing of the witnesses against him, and after attending to his defence (in the making which, the law prescribes that every indulgence shall be shown him, and that even his judge shall be his counsel and assist him) must all concur in declaring on their oaths, that he is guilty of the crime alleged against him, or he is to be discharged, and can never more be called in question for the same offence, save only in the case of murder.

It seems, I think, that the wit of man could invent no stronger bulwark against all injustice and false accusation than this institution, under which not only innocence may rejoice in its own security, but even guilt can scarce

be so immodest as to require a fairer chance of escaping the punishment it deserves.

And yet, if after all this precaution it should manifestly appear that a person hath been unjustly condemned, either by bringing to light some latent circumstance, or by discovering that the witnesses against him are certainly perjured, or by any other means of displaying the party's innocence, the gates of mercy are still left open, and upon a proper and decent application, either to the judge before whom the trial was had, or to the Privy Council, the condemned person will be sure of obtaining a pardon, of preserving his life, and of regaining both his liberty and reputation.

To make, therefore, such an application on the behalf of injured innocence is not only laudable in every man, but it is a duty, the neglect of which he can by no means answer to his own conscience; but this, as I have said, is to be done in a proper and decent manner, by a private application to those with whom the law hath lodged a power of correcting its errors and remitting its severity; whereas to resort immediately to the public by inflammatory libels against the justice of the nation, to establish a kind of Court of Appeal from this justice in the bookseller's shop, to re-examine in newspapers and pamphlets the merits of causes which, after a fair and legal trial, have already received the solemn determination of a Court of Judicature, to arraign the conduct of magistrates, of juries, and even judges, and this even with the most profligate indecency, are the effects of a licentiousness to which no government, jealous of its own honour, or indeed provident of its own safety, will ever indulge or submit to.

Sensible as I am of this, I should by no means become an aggressor of this kind; but surely when such methods have been used to mislead the public, and to censure the

justice of the nation in its sagacity at least, and grossly to misrepresent their proceedings, it can require little apology to make use of the same means to refute so iniquitous an attempt. However unlawful a weapon may be in the hands of an assailant, it becomes strictly justifiable in those of the defendant: and as the judges will certainly excuse an undertaking in defence of themselves, so may I expect that the Public (that part of it, I mean, whose esteem alone I have ever coveted or desired) should show some favour to a design which hath in view not a bare satisfaction of their curiosity only, but to prevent them from forming a very rash, and, possibly, a very unjust judgment. Lastly, there is something within myself which rouses me to the protection of injured innocence, and which prompts me with the hopes of an applause much more valuable than that of the whole world.

Without this last motive, indeed, it may be imagined I should scarce have taken up my pen in the defence of a poor little girl, whom the many have already condemned. I well know the extreme difficulty which will always be found in obtaining a reversal of such a judgment. Men who have applauded themselves, and have been applauded by others, for their great penetration and discernment, will struggle very hard before they will give up their title to such commendation. Though they, perhaps, heard the cause at first with the impartiality of upright judges, when they have once given their opinion, they are too apt to become warm advocates, and even interested parties in defence of that opinion. Deplorable, indeed, and desperate is the case of a poor wretch against whom such a sentence is passed! No Writ of Error lies against this sentence, but before that tremendous Court of the Public where it was first pronounced, and no court whatever is, for the reasons

already assigned, so tenacious of the judgments which it hath once given.

In defiance, nevertheless, of this difficulty, I am determined to proceed to disclose, as far as I am able, the true state of an affair, which, however inconsiderable the parties may be in their station of life (though injured innocence will never appear an inconsiderable object to a good mind), is now become a matter of real concern and great importance to the public; against whom a most horrible imposture, supported by the most impudent as well as impious perjury is dressed up, either on the one side or on the other. To discover most manifestly on which side it lies seems to be within the power of the government, and it is highly incumbent on them to exert themselves on this occasion, in order that by the most exemplary punishment they may deter men from that dreadful crime of perjury, which, in this case, either threatens to make the sword of justice a terror to the innocent, or to take off all its edge from the guilty; which of these is it likeliest to do in the present instance, I will endeavour to assist the reader, at least, in forming a probable conjecture.

Elizabeth Canning, a young girl of eighteen years of age, who lived at Aldermanbury Postern, in the City of London, declares, That on Monday, the 1st of January last, she went to see her uncle and aunt, who are people of a very good character, and who live at Saltpetre Bank, near Rosemary Lane; that having continued with them till towards nine in the evening, her uncle and aunt, it being late, walked a great part of the way home with her; that soon after she parted with them, and came opposite to Bethlehem-gate in Moorfields, she was seized by two men who, after robbing her of half a guinea in gold, and three shillings in silver, of her hat, gown, and apron, violently dragged her into a

gravel-walk that leads down to the gate of Bethlehem Hospital, about the middle of which one of the men, after threatening to do for her, gave her a violent blow with his fist on the right temple, that threw her into a fit, and entirely deprived her of her senses. These fits she says she hath been accustomed to; that they were first occasioned by the fall of a ceiling on her head; that they are apt to return upon her whenever she is frightened, and that they sometimes continue for six or seven hours; that when she came to herself she perceived that two men were hurrying her along in a large road-way, and that in a little time after she was recovered, she was able to walk alone; however, they still continued to pull and drag her along; that she was so intimidated by their usage that she durst not call out, nor even speak to them; that in about half an hour after the recovery of her senses they carried her into an house where she saw in the kitchen an old Gipsy woman and two young women; that the old Gipsy woman took hold of her by the hand, and promised to give her fine clothes if she would go their way, which expression she understanding to mean the becoming a prostitute, she utterly refused to comply with; upon which the old Gipsy woman took a knife out of a drawer and cut the stays off this Elizabeth Canning, and took them away from her, at which time one of the men likewise took off her cap, and then both the men went away; that soon after they were gone, and about an hour after she had been in the house, the old Gipsy woman forced her up an old pair of stairs, and pushed her into a back room like a hay-loft, without any furniture whatsoever in the same, and there locked her up, threatening that if she made the least noise or disturbance, the old Gipsy woman would come up and cut her throat, and then fastened the door on the outside