Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-05-28
STRANGE DELUSION.

prisoner, rise and look upon the
jury. Gentlemen, have you agreed
upon your verdict" 1t was the clerk
of the court who spoke.
1--WE have"
'And what say your Do you find
the prisoner guilty or not grilty7"
"Guilty-of murder in the first de
gree"
So said the foreman of the jury,
and the hush of death overspread
the court as the panel was polled,
man by man.
The prisoner, a tall, blonde girl,
had shot her affianced husband on the
street. Her father, a respected mer
chant Of neighboring city, had en-
gagged Henry North, them famous
criminal lawyer of his day, to de
fend her. The address to the jury
by North had been one of the most
sympathetic appeals ever made to
jury. 1t had touched every tender
chord in the human heart. 1t had
appealed to the jurymen as fathers,
as brothers and as husbands. Every
body said that Henry North never
had been so brilliant, never so mag
netic.
And yet he had failed
The keenest chagrin was written
ON every line of his face, but as he
gathered up his papers he comment
ed solely to himself:
81 knew it would be sor
Knew what9 How could he have
foreseen the verdict when every other
person in the courtroom had con-
fidently expected an acquittal2 What
could he have meant2
The great criminal lawyer regained
his composure in a moment. He
made the usual motion for a new
trial, stepped to the side of the con-
victed murderess, assured her that
hope still remained, then shook the
long, slender hand of the staring,
statuesque woman as she was re-
manded for sentence. The next in
slant he was seen rushing hurriedly
toward the stairway.
The oyer and terminer courtroom,
as everybody knows, is at the head
of the long, marble staircase leading
toward Broadway.
Hardly a minute later, before the
room had cleared, a cry was heard in
the outer hall. 1t was a shrek of
agony and horror
AT the foot of the marble steps,
gasping for breath, lay the famous
advocate, Henry North, the idol of
his profession. At the top of the
landing North had been seen to reel,
and before anybody could reach him
he had plunged headlong to the bot
tom of the flight. Blood rose to his
lips, his eyes were wide open, but ap-
peared to be staring at an invisible
object. The clammy moisture of
death was upon his brow.
The dying man was raised in the
arms of young clerk, as a gaping
crowd quickly gathered. He lived
only long enough to say;
HE has killed me at last. He was
crouching at the head of the stairs
and tIipped me-" Then had come
the shrek and the agonizing words;
Keep him Off Go 'wayl"
Henry North ceased to breathe.
The death was the sensation of d
week. The funeral was one of the
largest ever seen in New York. But
the mystery surrounding his last
words remained. Many theories were
advanced to explain them, none of
which, to the shame of our common
humanity, were creditable to the de-
ceased, though there never had been
a shadow upon his name.
l was the clerk who received the
last condolences of Henry North.
He was my father, and the secret of
his life and tragic death had been
the mystery of our family, Among
his papers was found the following
narrative, addressed to me, which
after careful consideration l have
decided to publish, TO refute the cal
umny cast upon fathers name as a
lawyer and as a man. The first date
is OF six months ago, though the final
page was undoubtedly written the
last morning of his life. 1t is en-
titled 1.-The Black Dog"
March Is, lSS6-Something mys-
terious came into my life ten years
ago today. Its influence upon my
career has been such that feel /
must make some record of 1t, not