Wilmington journal., 1875-08-13
A Juryman's Story.

en- thought so.
mnrder of peculiar atrocity had
bt en- committed, and though no eye
he'd witnessed the deed, circumstances
pointed to the prisoners guilt with un-
failing certainty.
The recusant juror had stood out
from lhe first. He ackr owledged the
corency of the proofs, confessed his
inability to reconcile the facts with the
defendants innocence, and yej on ey-
cry vote, went steadily for acqp'ttaL
His conduct was inexplicable. 1t
could not result from lack OF lntell1-
gence, for while he spoke but little, his
wo7 is were chosen, and evlnced
thorough understanding of the case.
Though st''l in the prime OF man-
hood his locks were prematurely white,
ard his face had singularly sad and
thoughtful expression.
He might lie one OF those who en-
tertained scruples as to the right of
society to infict the death penalty.
But no, it was not that, for III reply to
such suggestion. he frankly admit
ted that brute men, like the vicious
brutes they resemble, must be con
troiied through fear, and that dread Of
death, Oh supreme terror, is IN many
cases, the only adequate restraint.
At the prospect of another night OF
fru;5less imprisonment, we began to
grow impatient, and expostulated
warmly against what seemed an uurea-
soma Die captiOusness, and some not
over k nd remarks were indulged IN
as to the propriety Of tritling with an
oath ike til at under which we were
acting.
Aud yet" the man answered, as
thoug4 communing with himself rather
than npelIing the imputation, "it is
conscience that hinders my concur
T, ICE IN a verdict approved by my
Judgment
"How can that be? cried several
voices 1T once"
conscience may not always dare
to follow Judgment.
.'Eut here she can know no other
guide"
II once would have said the same.
"Anl what has changed your opin-
ion?'
Experience.
Ine speakers manner was vislbly
agitated, and he waited IN silence the
explanation which he seemed ready to
give.
Mastering his emotion, as if to an
swer our looks of inquiry, he contin-
ued:
Twenty years ago l was young
man, just beginning life. Few had
brighter prospects and none brighter
hopes.
An attachment dating from childhood
had rjpened with its object. There
had been no verbal declaration and
acceptance of love-no formal plight
ing of troth; but when / took my de-
parture to seek home in the far
West, it was a thing understood that
when | had found it and put it in or
der, she was to share it.
Life il the forest, though solitary,
is not necessarily lonesome. The kind
of society afforded by Nature depends
much on ones self. AS for me, l live
more il the future than in the present,
and hope is al ever cheerful compan-
ion.
At length the time came for the final
payment of the home which [ had
bought It would henceforward be my
own; and in few months my simple
[ Yelling, which had spared no pains
to render inviting, would be graced by
its mistress.
At the land office, which was some
sixty miles Off, I met my old friend,
George c.. He, too, had come to seek
his fortune in the WesC, and we were
both delighted at the meeting. He
had brought with him, he said, sum
of money VII; ch he desired to vest in
land, on which it was his purpose to
sattIe.
l expressed a strong wish to have
him for a neighbor, and gave him a
&C dial invitation to accompany me-
he ne, g,ving it as my belief that he
&C / d nowhere make better selection
than in that vicinity.-He readily con-
sented, and we set out together. We
had not ridden many miles when
GeoI65 suddenly recollected COM
mi, sion he had undertaken for friend
WI ch would require his attendance at
a public land sale on the following
day
Exacting promise that he would
not delay his visit longer than neces-
sary and having given minute direc-
tions as to the route, [ continued my
way homeward, while be went back.
1 was retiring to bed on the night of
nv return, when a summons from
WITHOUT called me to the door. 4
SU --1-tG asked SnolJGI himself
ho~ae for the night.
! invited him III. Though stran-
ger, his face seemed not unfamiliar.
He was probably one of the men that
I had seen at the land Office, place at
that time very much frequented.
Offering him a seat, 1 went to see
his hC~se. The poor animal, as we'll
IS [ could see by the dim starlight,
seemed to have been hardly used. His
painting sides bore witness of merci-
less riding, and tremendous shrink
ing at the slightest touch, betokened
recent fright.
On returning to the house, found
the stranger had gone. His absence
excited no surprise; he would doubt
less soon return. It was q little sin
gular, howev er, that he should leave
his watch upon the table.
at the end OF an hour, my EseszS not
returning, Event again to the saxble,
thinking be might have found his
way thither, to give his personal at
tentiOn to the wants of his horse.
Before going out from mere force of
habit-for We were as yet unvisited
by thieves or policemen took the
precaution of putting the strangers !
watch in o drawer in which l kept my |
own valuables.
/ found the horse as had left him |
and gave him the feed which he was
now sufficiently cooled to eat, but his
master was nowhere to be seen.
As I approached the house a crowd |
of men on horseback dashed up, and I
was commanded IN no gentle terms to
''stand!' In another moment I was
in the clutches of those who called me
their 'prisoner"
was too much stupefed at first tc
ask what it all meant. J did 80 at
last, and the explanation came-it was
terrible.
NY friend with whom had so late
y set out in company, had been found
and robbed near the spot at
which I, but l alone, knew We had
separated. I was the last person
Known to have been with him, and I
vas now arrested on suspicion of his
murder. 4
A search Of the premises was i'm {
&oIx incfif,1fal |