Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1869-07-22
a Juryman-s story.
Ky JUDGE CLARK.

JCDbE tl..Alkhs
We had been out twenty-four hours,
and stood eleven to one. The case was a
plain one-at least we eleven thought
so.
A murder of peculiar atrocity had been
committed, and though no eye had wit
messed the deed, circumstances pointed TO
the prisoners guilt with unfailing GER
tainty.
The recusant Juror had stood out from
the first. He acknowledged the cogency
of the proofs, confessed his inability to
reconcile the facts with the defendants
innocence, and yet, on every vote, went
steadily for acquittal.
His conduct was inexplicablc. 1t could
not result from a lack of intelligence, for,
while he spoke but little, his words were
well chosen, and evinced thorough I'M
derstanding Of the case.
Though still in the prime Of manhood.
bis locks were prematurcly white, and
his face wore -ingularly sad and
thoughtful expression.
lIe miyht be one Of those who enter
tanned -,ruples ~ TO the right Of society
t. iniiict the death penalty. But no, 1t
was not hat; for, in reply 20 such sug-
2e-tion, he frankly admitted that brutal
men, like 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.
And yet" the man answered, as though
comInuning with himself rather than
compelling the imputation, '.it is con-
science that binders my concurrence in a
l,,, "a.
How can that be ~ inquired several
NJ once.
Conscience may not always dare to
follow judgment"
"But here she can know no other
guide
Il once would have said the same"
and what has changed your opin-
ION :"
"Exporieace.'
The speakers manner was yisibly agi-
tated, and we waited in silence for the
explanation which he seemed ready to
give.
Mastering bis emotion, as if in answer
to our looks of inquiry, he continued
Twenty years ago | was a young man
just beginning life. Few had brighter
prospects. and brighter hopes.
-Au dbAitIlI t-li. tdAltp IIOln EDlllIObl.
had ripened with its object. There had
been no verbal declaration and acceptance
OF lovc-no formal plighting of troth
but when | took my departure 10 seek
home in tho distant West, it was a thing
understood, that when | had found it and
Pat it in order, ne was to share it.
Life in the forest, though solitary, j.
not necessarily lonesome. The kind OF
society offered by nature, depends much
on ones self. As for me, | lived more in
TIE 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 henccforth be my
own; and in few months my simple
dwelling, which / had spared no pains to
render inviting, would be graced by it's
mistress
At the land Office, which was some 90
miles off, | met my old friend, Geo. G.
He, too, had come West, TO seek his for
tune; and we were both delighted at the
meeting lie had brought with him, he
said, sum of money which he desired TO
invest in land, on which it was his pur-
pose t. settle.
i expressed a strong wish to have him
for "A neighbor, and gave him cordial
invitation to accompany me home, giving
1t as my beief that he could nowhere
make better selection than in that vicin-
ity.
He readily consented, and we set out
together. We had not ridden many miles
when George suddenly recollected com
mission he had undertaken for friend,
which would require his attendance at
public land sale on the following day.
Exacting u promise that he would not
delay his visit longer than was necessary,
and having given minute directions as to
the route, continued my way homeward
while ne turned back.
l was about retiring to bed on the
night of my return, when a summons from
without called me to the door. A stranger
asked shelter for himself and his horse for
the night.
| invited him in. Though stranger
his face seemed not unfamiliar. He was
probably one of the III en- had seen at the
land office, place at that time much fire.
quented.
Offering him seat. / went to see to
his horse. The poor animal as well as l
could see by the dim starlight, seemed to
have been badly used. His painting sides
bore witness of merciless riding, and q
tremulous shrinking at the slightest touch
betokened recent fright.
On re-entering the house, / found the
stranger was not there. His absence
excited no surprise, he would doubtless
soon return. 1t was little singular
however, that he should have left his
watch lying ON the table.
AT the end of half an hour, nv guest
not returning, / went again to the stable.
thinking 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 bv
either thieves or policemen-I took the
precaution of putting the stranRer's watch
In the drawer in which kept INV own
valuables.
l found the horse as I had left him.
and gave him the food which he VIA
now sufficiently cooled to be allowed to
eat, but his master was nowhere TO be
seen.
As approached the house, crowd Of
men on horseback dashed nm. and -.
commanded in no gentle tones to "stand .
In another moment was in the elutche.
OF those who claimed me as their "prison.
er." P
l was too much. stupefied at first to
aak What ~ al "