The Weston Democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1875-current, 1875-01-25
"a JURYMAN,s' STORY.


We had been out Of court twenty.four
hours, and stood eleven to one. The
case was o very plain one-at least, we
eleven thought so. Amurder OF pecu.
liar atrocity had been committed and
though no eye had witnessed the deed,
circumstances pointedto the prisoners
guilt with uniailing certainty.
The rccusant Juror had stood out
from the first. He acknowledged the
cogency Of the proofs, confessed his In
ability to- reconcile the facts with the
defendants innocence, and yet, on every
vote, went steadily for acquittal. His
conduct was inexplicable. II could not
result from lack Of intelligence; for,
while he spoke but little, his words were
well chosen, and cyinced q thorough tin.
derstlnding Of the case. ti ll
Though still in the prime Of manhood,
his locks were prematrrely white and
his face wore . tsingulnrly and and
thoughtful expression. He might be
one of those who entertained scruples as
to the right Of society to inflict the
death penalty. But no, it was not tint;
for, in reply 10 such o 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 re.
straint.
AT the prospect Of another night Of
fruitless imprisonment we began to grow
impatient md cxpostulated warmly
against what seemed IN unreasonable
captionsness; and some not over kind
remarks were indulged in as TO the inn
epropriety of trifling with IN oath like
TINT under which we were acting.
"And yet" the man answered, as
though ccnmuning with himself, rather
than repelling the imputation, ait is
conscience TINT hinders my concurrence
in verdict approved BY my iudg.
ment.N5 t's.et hf3 ts9;i5
How can that beis queried several
OF once. 4.
Conscience may not always dare to
follow Judgment" t.'a a'ii sl'5
"B,it here she can know no other
guide
al once would have said the same"
"And what haS changed your opin.
ion.
0Experience.r
The speakers manner was yisibly agi-
tated, and we waited in silence the ex-
planation which he seemed ready to
give. Mastering his emotion, as II in
answer to our looks Of inquiry, he con.
tinued !:
"Twenty years ago, I was q young
man. just beginning life. Few had
brighter hopes. An attachment, dating
from childhood, had ripened with its OBJ
ject. There had been no verbal .decla.
ration and acceptance Of loye-no formal
plighting Of troth but when I took my
departure to seek q home in the distant
West, IL was thing understood, that
when / had found II and put II in order,
she was to shareit Life in the forest,
though solitary, is not necessarily lone.
some. The kind Of society afforded by
nature, depends much on ones self. As
for me, i lived more in the future than
in the present, and hope is an ever.
cheerful companion Atlength the time
came for making the final payment on
tho home which 1had bought. Itwould
henceforward be my own and in o few
more months, my simple dwelling, which
Ihad spared no pains TO render inviting,
would be graced by its mistress.
i'At the land-oilice, which was somo
sixty miles, of, i met my old friend,
CA.si He, too, had come to seek q
fortune in the West; and We were both
delighted at the meeting. He had
brought with him, he said, sum Of
money which he desired to invest in
land, on which IL was his purpose to
settle. / expressed o strong desire to
have him for q neighbor, and gave him
cordial invitation to accompany me
home, giving IL as my belief TINT he
could nowhere make o better selection
than in that vicinity. He readily con-
sented, and we set out together. We
had not ridden many miles, when George
suddenly recollected commission he
had undertaken for friend, which
would require ais attendance at o public
land sale on the following day. Exact-
ing q promise that he would not delay
his visit longer than necessary, and
giving minute directions as to the route,
/ continued my way homeward, while
he turned back. s-s
"I 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
III horse for the night. l invited him
in. Though q stranger, his face seemed
not unfamiliar. He was probably one oi
the men / had seen at the land.oiilce- a
place. at that time, much frequented.
offaring him o seat, i went to SEQ his
horse. Tho poor animal, Us well as ]
could see by the dim starlight, seemed
10 have beon hardly used. His painting
aides bore witness q msscileSs riding