The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1875-03-19
Che Rutlaua daily Glohe.
FRIDAY, MARCH 10, 1875.
From the Troy Press.l
THE REECHER TRIAL.
a nay In the Brooklyn COurt-The
Judge, the Counsel, the Parties, etc.

Judge, the Counsel. the Parties, etc.
The following was written on the day of
its date, but inasmuch as il is mainly de-
scripive of persons connected with the
trial, whatever of interest it may possess
will not be impaired by the delay in publ
cation
New YORK, March II.
One gets the dry facts of the Beecher
trial-what is said and what is done-in
very good shape from the New York pa
pers, but of course to learn how it is done
one must be present in proper person, 1t
was dull day to-day at the trial for regu-
lar attendants For a spectator for the
first time there is always enough TO occupy
the attention in viewing the judge, the en-
inent counsel, the parties to the case, their
wives, aud the witnesses But the pro-
ceedings were not interesting to-day. Mr..
Oliver johnson asked permission TO correct
some statements made yesterday by him. I
confess to have been the victim Of an illu-
sion in regard to
OLIVER JOHNSON.
When Tread of the battle which he waged
against slavery, have set him down as a
man who would give some outward indica-
ton of hero. When | read his gallant
letter to Mrs. Mcfarland q suppose Mr..
Beecher would say Mrs. Richardson),
pictured Oliver as an elegant old beau.
When saw his portrait in The Graphic l
said to myself, "hc is handsome" But
Mr.. johnson looks neither like hero, nor
an elegant old beau, and he is not hand
some. He is a very commonplace looking
man, with sandy-gray hair and beard, and
not much of either. He is not dIgnified,
and on the witness stand shows neither
greatness nor culture. He jerks and bitches
out his words, makes slips in his grammar,
and wipes his moss with his forefnger. He
may be habitually guilty of the last deli
cate attention to his nasal organ, but he
did it twice or thrice to-day in fifteen min
utes. have learned lesson from Oliver.
shall never again imagine a man to be a
second Luther, or Sir Philip Sydney, or
Count D'Orsay, from what read or see of
him in the papers.
The strongest evidence have seen in
favor of Mr.. Beecher is
MRS. TIIToN HERSELF.
\ little dumping of woman, without
one single attraction of personal beauty
as she sits in the court room silent. A
swarthy oily face, with a large ugly mouth
no beauty in the eyes or nose, but with a
heavy growth of dark hair, though the
crop may have been furnished by some
other head. But she does not look bad
sort of woman in the least,-a quiet, inof-
fensivc little home-body one would say, a
sort of "Little Dorrit," with a weakness
for writing silly, sickish letters. 1t could
not have been necessary to prove her hand
writing in introducing her letters. All that
was requisite was to read the letters and
ask the jury to look at Mrs. Tilton. But
every scandal monger you meet will tell
you there is no accounting for tastes, y
and may be they are right IN the conclu-
sion to which their words point.
MR. AND MRS. BEKCHER
sit there, side by side Somehow you are
not reminded OF "John Anderson, my joe"
when you look at them. The wife looks
old enough to be the mother of the hus-
band. | have seen women at eighty who
looked younger. Her hair is thin and
white and patted down upon her temples.
You can see that before she takes off her
bonnet or her "clowd." Her eyelids are
drawn down at the outer corners, and so is
her mouth, giving her the look of having
''set her teeth against something. Her
face reminds one little of Charlotte
Cushman, though | can't see exactly why
it should. She is a plain, good, old Meth
Odist-looking woman, as true as steel you
can see at a glance, but there is faint sug-
gcstion of sharp finger nails-two full
hands-if her temper were aroused. But
o, the sadness of that good, honest, grand
motherly face . And who can wonder at
1t g? In any view of the case, who can
wonder at it 1t is hard for the "auld
wife" to sit there and hear that her hus-
band had been 'enamored OF Mrs. Tilton
for many years" and the matter is not
mended much to her poor old soul by a
glance at Mrs. Tilton's plain, unattractive
steals over her pale face when such testi-
mony is given in her presence, which seems
to say, "lf Henry is a bad nan you shall
not know that it is possible for me to be-
lieve it," And the husband sits there like
a sphinX-a terrible riddle, great, gross,
| tlabby face,-greater and grosser and fab
bier than you ever saw t-a picture either
of health or disease, you cant tell which.
| But as you look at him while he losses back
a lock with jerk of his head, and you al
most expect to hear \ snort aud a champing
upon a bit,-does he look like man who
would write cowardly letters, or that would
be intimidated by Frank Moulton with a
hundred cooked pistols No, you would
say, if he did these things, there was some
good reason for doing them.
Not far from him sits the other sphinx,
THEODORE TILToN,
growing gray very fast, with hard lines of
some terrible struggle craven upon his face.
He sits tightly buttoned up in his long
frock-coat, his head little reclining upon
the fingers of one hand, the elbow resting
upon the very table at which
GENERAL PRYOR
shifts and snorts and sticks out his under
| lip till it almost touches his aqualine nose.
| Gen. Pryor sits uneasy in his chair and
strokes his long, jet-back Indian hair
straight back from his forehead, and sweeps
| it back of his ears. very keen eye has
Mr.. Pryor and winning smile. He is a
very courteous, free and easy, of-hand,
frank fellow, looking to be not upwards of
forty. Seen upon the street, in his long
military LOOKING cloak and soft hat, he
would appear to be an Italian brigand II
he did not look so very benevolent and
| jolly. Looking at Beecher and at Tilton,
two broad-shouldered giants, you wonder
how under heavens they should ever fall
foul of each other about that little wasp
of woman looking down into her lap and
fidgeting with her fingers. Mr.. Beecher
busies himself with book, and seems glad
of chance to laugh at something (and he