Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1878-01-31
A Juryman's Story.
BY A NEW YORK MERCHANT.

eleven thought so. A murder
: of peculiar atrocity had beer
0 committed; and, though no eye
Q had witnessed the deed, circum.
stances pointed to the prisoners
Q guilt with unfailing certainty.
The recusant juror had stood
D out from the first. He acknowl-
edged the cogency of the proofs,
} confessed his inability to recon
oncile the facts with the defcn-
J dant's innocence, and yet, on ev-
} cry vote, went steadily for ac-
quittal. His conduct was mex
,, plicable. 1t could not result
from a lack of intelligence, for,
while he spoke but little, his
words were well chosen, and E.
vinced a thorough understand
ing of the case.
Though still in the prime of
manhood, his locks were prema-
turely white, and his face wore
a singularly sad and thoughtful
expression. He might be one
of those who entertained scru-
pies as to the right of society
to infict the death penalty.
But no, it was not that; for in
reply to such a suggestion, he
frankly admitted that brutal
men, like the vicious brutes they
resemble, must be controlled by
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 inpatient,
and e1postulated warmly against
what seemed an unreasonable
captiousness; and some not over
kind remarks were indulged in
as to the propriety Of trifing
with an oath like that under
which we were acting.
"And yet" the man answered,
rs though communing with him.
SELF, rather than repelling the
impuiation, sit is conscience
that hinders my concurrence III
verdict approved by my judg-
ment."
"How can that be?" queried
several at once.
"Conscience may not always
dare to follow Judgment"
''But here she can know no
other guide"
81 once would have said the
same"
"And what has changed your
opinion?"
"Experience!"
The speakers manner was
visibly agitated, and we waited
in silence the explanation which !
be seemed ready to give. Mas
tering his emotion, as if in an
swer to our looks of inquiry, he
continued:
Twenty years ago | was
young man just beginning life.
Few had brighter prospects,a
none brighter hopes. An at
tachment, dating from child
hood, had ripened with its OBJ
iect. There had been no ver-
bal declaration and acceptance
of love-no formal plighting Of
troth; but when | took my de-
parture to seek a home in the
distant West, it was a thing un-
derstood that when | had found
it and put it in order she was
TO share it. Life in the forest,
though solitary, is not necessa-
riiy lonesome. The kind of So
cicty afforded, by nature, de-
pends much on ones self. AS
for me / live more in the future,
than in the present, and hope is
an ever cheerful companion.
AT length the time came for ma
king the final payment on the
home which | had bought. 1t
would henceforward be my own; h
and, in a few more months my
simple dwelling, whir1 had
spared no pains to renu1r inyi-
ting, would be graced by its
mistress.
SAT the land office, which was
some sixty miles off, | met my
old friend, George c.. He I
too had come to seek his fortune
in the West; and we were both
delighted at the meeting. lie
brought with him, he said, a
sum of money he desired to in
vest in land, on which it was
his purpose to settle. | ex-
pressed a strong wish to have
him for a neighbor, and gave
him cordial invitation to ac- ;
company me home, giving him
as my belief that he could no. {
where make a better selection I
than in that vicinity. He ;
readily consented and we star
ted out together. We had not
ridden many miles, when George
recollected commission
he had undertaken for a friend, Il
which would require his attend |,
ance ct q public land sale on the Ii