The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-10-29

New Chelsea oratory is still loved. The audience hung intent. almost breathless, on the scene enacted before them. They had the feeling of being not spectators, but participants in the little drama. Perhaps they were, for it was the trial of Jim Sheehan.
 Senator Murchell was not listening to the speech. He was intentiy regard Ing the set profile across the counsel table and measuring the man he saw there against the boyish, eager and very lfkeanle young man wilom, al- most year before, little boss and . big had sought to press into their service. John Dunmeade had grown. One saw that in the already grave. al most sad, lines of his face. Work and thought and responsibility and pur- pose-And something else of which the senator had no inkling-had set their stamp upon him.
 There had been no lack of accom- plishment during the five months of office holding. To this truth eloquent witnesses might have been called Butch Maley and Red Bricker, all ready serving terms in the peniten- tiary: Slayton, fugitive, bail forfeit ed; Brown and Parsons, free only pending appeal; and now Sheehan, his fate hanging in the balance. The ma chine, Senator Murchell knew, would be rebuilt better and stronger than ever, but for the present it was sadly, sadly out of gear.
 He let his glance stray from John to the defendant. Sheehan sat slouched in his chair in an attitude that he vainly sought to render jaunty, conf dent His cheeks had fallen in slight ly, his eyelids were puffy and red rim med. His mouth hung dabbily. His hands played nervously with a piece of paper.
 Whittredge, the famous lawyer brought from Steel City to defend Shee- han, brought his brilliant peroration to g close. The audience relapsed into an expectant silence, all eyes fixed on the district attorney. For a moment he remained as he had sat throughout. the plea for the defense, motion1ess, lean ing little forward and staring hxedly at the wall behind the judge, as though he saw vision.
 The moment ended. He rose and stood before the jury box, first ad- dressing the court. He smiled gravely at the jurors. It had taken a whole
 
 knew them and that they were well chosen. Then the smile faded from his lips and eyes. replaced by look to which his neighbors were growing ac- customed. He began to speak.
 "Gentlemen of the jury, what have to do is not pleasant. But there is a thing called duty.''
 As the first words fell MurchelIs in terest 1eaped. He knew that he was seeing a man mount to a climax in his fife. From the beginning the audience was caught in the mans spell by some thing that breathed through his voice and that had been absent from Whit tredge's perferyid periods. He had a clear, flexible voice and knew how to use it.
 The speech had been skillfu1ly plan ned. At first he confined his argument to the jury and the case at bar. Logic ally he mafshaIed the evidence against the defendant and analysed the de- fense. Then when he felt that he had brought intellectual conviction to all he began to direct his words at the au- dience not for the telepathic effect on the jury, but because he believed yer dict of guilty would be worthless un- less it aroused g common horror for the crime.
 Never afterward in speech did John reach quite the same heights as on the afternoon when the bright blade of his young indignation cut into the con- sciences of his hearers. The matter be- came deeply personal with them. Each man suddenly felt himself aggrieved, felt that shameful attempt had been made to take advantage of his good faith and trust. And then, even while they were condemning Sheehan, John seemed to arraign them. He set them to asking the question, What part have in this crime? Such offenses are pos sible only among a people asleep. They were both aggrieved and aggres- sors.
 Senator Murchell sat to all outward seeming impassive. He listened, as as- tonished as the rest, but with under standing and-he was himself amazed to mark it--sadly For he read in the ardent face and words passion for a hopeless ideal. So much power, he thought, going to wastef For he knew, better than did those who pos sessed it, the power of moral passion controlled-but always properly con- trolled! Was there not some way to bind this force to his interest? Bribery at the polls and Justification of election returns, Familiar weapons of machine politics, so long used that they had ceased to arouse horror and revolt in the careless, ca11oused hearts of the people, were Johns text. They explained the continuance of the ma chine in power They shed a bright light foo on the so called genius of