The Portland daily press., 1869-05-22
selected story.
A JURYMAN's STORY.
BY JUDGE CLARK.

oneI Sulit Witn unlalling certainty.
The reeusant juror had stood out from thu
nrst. de acknowledged the cogency of tn,
proofs, confessed his inability to reconcile the
facts with the defendants innocence, and yet
on every vote, went steadily Cor acquittal.
His conduct was inexplicable. 1t could no
result from lack of intelligence; for, Will.
he spoke but little, his words were well cho
sen, and evinced thorough understanding o
the case.
Though still in the prime of manhood, his
locks were prematurely white, and his face
wore singularly sad and thoughtful express
sion.
He might be one OF those who entertained
scruples as to the right OF society TO nfilct
the death denaity But no, it was not that
for, in reply TO such suggestion, he frankly
admitted that brutal men, like the vicious
brutes they resemble, must be controlled
through fear, and that dread Of death, the
supreme terror, is, in many cases, the only
adequate restraint.
AT the prospect of another night of fruitless
imprisonment we began to grow impatient
aud expostulated warmly against what seem.
edan unreasonable captiousness; aud some
not over kind remarks were INDUCED in as tc
the impropriety OF trifling with an oath like
that under which we were acting.
Sand yet" the man answered, as though
communing with himself rather than repell-
ing the imputation, "It is Conscience that
hlnders my concurrence in verdict approved
by my judgment"
How can that be ?"inqured several at once.
conscience may rot always dare to follow
judgment"
"But here she can know no other guide?"
II once would have said the same"
And what has changed your Opinion?v
"ExPERIENCEw
The speakers manner was visibly agitated
we waited in silence the explanation which
he seemed ready to give
mastering his emotion, as il in answer to
our looks OF inquiry, he continued:
Twenty years ago was young man lust
beginning life. Few had brighter prospects
AMI none brighter hopes.
An attachment, dating from childhood, had
ripened with its object. There had been no
verbal declaration and acceptance of Iove-no
formal plighting of troth: but when / took nv
departure to seek home in the distant West,
1t was thing understood, that when l had
found it and put it in order, she was to share
it.
Life in the forest, though solitary. is not
necessarily lonesome. The kind of society afs
forded byNature, depends much on ones SEX.
As for me, lived more in the future than in
the present, and Hope is an ever-cheerful
companion.
AT length the time came for making the
final payment on the home which / had
bought. 1t would henceforth be my own; !;
and in few more months, my simple dwell
ing, which I had spared no pains to render in
vting, would be graced by its mistress.
At the land-office, which was some sixty
miles of, met my old friend, George C. He.
too, had come to seek his fortune in the West:
and we were both delighted at the meeting. ne
had brought with him, he said, sum of mon
ey which be desired to invest in land, on
which 1t was his purpose to settle,
depressed strong wish to have him for
neighbor, and gave him cordial invitation.
to accompany me home, giving it as my belief
tnat ne could nowhere make better selection
than in that vicinity.
he readily consented, and we set ont to-
gather. We had not ridden many miles. when
George suddenly recollected commission he
had undertaken for friend, which would re-
quire his attendance at public land-sale on
the following day.
Exacting promise that he would not delay
his visit longer than necessary. and having
given minute directions as to the route. / con:
tinued my way homeward, while he turned
back.
Al was about retiring to bed on the night of
my return, when summons from without
called me to the door. A stranger asked
shelter for himself and his horse for the night.
Invited him in. Though a stranger, his
face seemed not unfamiliar. He was proba-
bly, one Of the men had seen at the land
Office, place, at that time, much freouented.
Offering him seat, went to see to his
horse. The poor animal, as we'll as could
see by the dim starlight, seemed to have been
hardly used. His painting sides bore witness
OF merciless riding, and a trcmulous shrink
ing, at the slightest touch, betokened recent
fright.
On reentering the house, found the stran.
ger was not there. His absence excited no
surprise; he would doubtless soon return. II
was little singular however, that he should
have left his watch lying on the table.
AT the end OF halt an hour, my guest not
returning, went again to the stable, think
ing he might have found his way thither to
give personal attention to the wants Of his
horse.
Before going out, from mere force of habit
for we were. as yet uninfested by either
thieves or policemen took the precaution
OF putting the strangers watch in Che drawer
in which kept my own valuables.
Ifound the horse as / had left him. and
gave him the food which he was now suffici-
emily cooled to be allowed to eat, buthis mas
ter was nowhere to be seen.
As approached the house, crowd of men
ON horseback dashed up, and L was command
ed, in n gentle tones,to sstandp in another
moment was in the clutches of those who
claimed me as their prisoner.
was too much Supplied at first to ask
what It all meant. did so at last, and the ex-
pianation came, it was teriblel
My friend, with whom had SO lately set
out in comany, had been found murdered and
robbed near the spot at which /, but / alone
knew we had separated. was the last per
son known to be with him, and | was now
arrested on suspicion of his murder.
A search of the premises was immediate
ly instituted. The watch was found in the
draw In which ] had placed it, and avas
identified as the property of the murdered
man. His horse, too, was found in nv sta
stable, for the animal / had just put there
was none other. recognized him myself
when I saw him in the light.
What 1 said, I know not. NV confusion
was taken as additional evidence. And
when, at length, / did command language
to- give an Ineligible statement it was re-
ceived with sneers of incredulity.
The mob spirit is inherent in man-at
least IN crowds of men. 1t may not ALWAYS
manifest itself with lynching character.
But whatever its form, it is always relentless.
pitiless, cruel.
As the proofs of my guilt, one alter an
other, came to light, low mutterings, gradu-
nily grew iubo q claLnOf IOT vengeance. and
but for the firmness of one man-the officer
who had me in charge-I would doubtless
have paid the penalty of my supposed offence
on the spot.
1t was not sympathy for me that actuated
my protector. His heart was as hard as his
office; but he represented the majesty of the
law, and took a sort of grim pride in the DO
sitiOn.
As much under the glance of his eye as
before the muzzle of his pistol, the cowardIy
clamorers drew back. Perhaps they were
not sufficiently numerous to feel the full
effect of that mysterious reflex influence
which makes crowd of men so much worse,
and at times so much better, than any one of
them singly.
At the end of some months nv trial came.
1t could have but one result. circumstances
TOO plainly declared my guilt. 1 alone knew
The absence of the jury was very brief. To
their verdict paid but little heed. It was a
single hideous word; but I had long antici-
pated it, and it made no impression.
As little impression was made by the words
of the Judge which followed it,; and his SOL