The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1850-04-18
EBENsBURG, THURSDAY, APRIL is, 1850

not to pay the slightest attention to his
opponents, but remained motionless, with
his forehead bowed on his hands, like one
buried in deep thought or slumber. f
When the proper time came, however,
he suddenly sprang to his feet, crossed
the bar, and took his position almost
touching the jury. He then commenced
in a whisper, but it was whisper SO
wild, so clear, so unutterably ringing and
distinct, as to fill the hail from floor to
galleries. At the outset, he dealt i'll pure
logic. separating and combining the pro-
ven facts, till the whole mass of confused
evidence looked transparent as globe of
| glass, through which the innocence of his
client shOne, brilliant as sunbeam; and
the jurors nodded to each other signs of
thorough conviction: that thrilling whis-
per, and fixed concentration, and the lam
guage, simple as ehild's, had cony inced
all.
He then changed his posture, so as to
sweep the bar with his glance; and began
TO tear and rend his legal adversaries. HIS
sallow face glowed as a heated furnace;
his eyes resembied living Goals; and his
voice became the clangor of trumpet. |
have never, before or since, listened to
such murderous denunciations. 1t was
like Jove's eagle charging a flock of
crows; it was like Jove himself hurting
red-hot thunderbolts among the quaking
ranks of conspiracy of inferior gods!-
And YET, in the highest tempest of his flu
ry, he seemed calm; he employed no ges-
ture save one--the flash Of a long, bony
iore-6nger direct in the ey cs Of his toes.
He painted their venality and unmanly
meanness, in coalescing for money, TO
hunt down poor and friendiess woman,
till shout of siifed rage arose from the
multitude, and even some of the Jury
cried, ''ShameI' &.
He changed his theme once more. His
voice grew mournfui as funeral song,
and his eyes filed with tears, as he traced
j vivid picture of mans cruelties and wo-
mans wrongs, with particular illustrations
in the case OF his client; till one half of
the audience wePt like children. But it
was in the peroration that he reached his
zenith, at once. of terror and sublimity.-
His features were livid as those of a corpse;
his very hair appeared to stand on end;
his nerves shook as with palsy; he toss
ed his hands wildly towards heaven, each
finger stretched apart and quigering like
the flame of candle, as he closed with
the last words of the deceased Hiram Shore:
"Iell my mother that | am dead and gone
TO hell! His emphasis on the word hell
embodied the acme and ideal of all horror
it was a wall of inmeasurable despair.
No language can depict the effect on us
who heard If. Men groaned: females
screamed, and one poor mother tainted,
and was borne away i'll commissions.
+ The whole speech occupied but an
hour.
The jury rendered verdict of Mot
Guilty. without leaving the box; and
three cheers like successive roars of an
earthquake, shook the old court house
from the dome TO the cornerstone, testi-
flying the JOY Of the people.
After the adjournment, which occurred
near sunset, the triumphant advocate arose
and give out an appointments; Il will
preach in this hall tonight at O'Clock" :"
He then glided OFF through the crowd,
speaking to no one, though many attempt
ed 10 draw him into conversation.
At 8 o'clock the Court House was
again thronged, and the stranger, accord
ing to promise, delivered his sermon. 1t
evinced the same attributes as his previous
eloquence Of the bar; the same compact
logic, the same burning vehemence, and
increased bitterness of denunciation. In
deed misanthropy revealed itself as the
prominent emotion. The discourse was
a trade against infidels, in which class the
preacher seemed TO include every body
but himself; twas picture of hell, such
as sLucifer might have. drawn, with a
world in flames for his pencil.
But one paragraph pointed to heaven,
and that only demonstrated the utter i'm
possibility that any human being should
ever get there.-Great West.