Perhaps the wretchedness of his mother made some impression on the boy's heart; perhaps some undefined recollection of the time when he was a happy child, and she his only friend, and best companion, crowded on him--he burst into tears; and covering his face with one hand, and hurriedly placing the other in his mother's, walked away with her.
Curiosity has occasionally led us into both Courts at the Old Bailey.
Nothing is so likely to strike the person who enters them for the first time, as the calm indifference with which the proceedings are conducted; every trial seems a mere matter of business.

There is a great deal of form, but no compassion; considerable interest, but no sympathy.

Take the Old Court for example.

There sit the judges, with whose great dignity everybody is acquainted, and of whom therefore we need say no more.

Then, there is the Lord Mayor in the centre, looking as cool as a Lord Mayor _can_ look, with an immense _bouquet_ before him, and habited in all the splendour of his office.