would have an opportunity of making any statement, on my own account, which the Court might think fit to allow, when he had done with me, I wished to make my statement then; but with him against me, and the coroner, and an ass of a foreman, who said that the jury were unanimously of opinion that I was wasting time, I never had a chance.
He had his way. Then began the real tug-of-war with his very next question. He asked me if, after I had retired to rest, I had been disturbed in the night. Then I saw a chance to score, after all. I said I had, by a dream; but when I was about to tell them of that mysterious vision, he stopped me.
"Never mind about the dream. Dreams are not evidence."
Some of the audience tittered. I have not the faintest notion what at. I should have liked to supply them with an adequate reason.
"But my dream is evidence—very much evidence. If you will let me tell it you, it will throw more light"
"Thank you. But were you disturbed by nothing beside a dream?—for instance, by some one coming through your bedroom window?"
"I was not."
"Mr. Ferguson, take care. Do you say that no one came through your window?"
