 to him in the regular exercise of his function. Would he
take upon him to say that he had a right at his pleasure to suppress a charge of
this complicated nature? I had to accuse Mr. Falkland of repeated murders. The
perpetrator knew that I was in possession of the truth upon the subject; and,
knowing that, I went perpetually in danger of my life from his malice and
revenge. I was resolved to go through with the business, if justice were to be
obtained from any court in England. Upon what pretence did he refuse my
deposition? I was in every respect a competent witness. I was of age to
understand the nature of an oath; I was in my perfect senses; I was untarnished
by the verdict of any jury, or the sentence of any judge. His private opinion of
my character could not alter the law of the land. I demanded to be confronted
with Mr. Falkland, and I was well assured I should substantiate the charge to
the satisfaction of the whole world. If he did not think proper to apprehend him
upon my single testimony, I should be satisfied if he only sent him notice of
the charge and summoned him to appear.
    The magistrate finding me thus resolute, thought proper a little to lower
his tone. He no longer absolutely refused to comply with my requisition, but
condescended to expostulate with me. He represented to me Mr. Falkland's health
which had for some years been exceedingly indifferent, his having been once
already brought to the most solemn examination upon this charge, the diabolical
malice in which alone my proceeding must have originated, and the tenfold ruin
it would bring down upon my own head. To all these representations my answer was
short. I was determined to go on, and would abide the consequences. A summons
was at length granted, and notice sent to Mr. Falkland of the charge preferred
against him.
    Three days elapsed before any farther step could be taken in this business.
This interval in no degree contributed to tranquillise my mind. The thought of
preferring a capital accusation against, and hastening the death of such a man
as Mr. Falkland, was by no means an opiate to reflection. At one time I
commended the action, either as just revenge (for the benevolence of my nature
was in a great degree turned to gall), or as necessary self-defence, or as that
which in an impartial and philanthropical estimate included the smallest evil.
At another time I was haunted with doubts. But, spite of these variations of
sentiment, I uniformly determined to persist; I felt
