Year: 1876

Virginia City Chronicle.I


An old fellow who gave his name al


Charles H. Slosson was called up in


Judge Wright's Court on the charge Of
drunkenness. He was remarkably


seedy-looking specimen, arrayed in q


dirty check shirt and a pair of loose,


baggy trowsers, which were prevented


from falling of by leather strap knot.


ted about his waist. He was shivering


and trembling from the effects of we'll


sustained debauch, and hardly had the


physical strength to stand upright.


When the Judge asked him if he had


any thing to say he rose up in a sort OF


disjointed way and demanded jury,


which was granted, and when his turn


came he advanced with shuffling tread,


and bending his eyes on his "peers"


began:


"Gentlemen of the jury, / stand here


to-day less defender OF my own pc


sOnal debasement than an example o.


human depravity, which, like beacon.


light, should warn you from the ragged


rocks of intemperance. A man in my


condition is like rude sign. post once
saw in Tennessee, which pointed up a


road over which the green grass was be-
ginning to wave. On the sign was the


Inscription Smallpox 7 and the index
finger of hand pointed westward. Ii
any of you in travelling along highway
saw such sign as that you would pause
upon the brink of deadly danger and
turn backward. Sensation. In me
you behold such sign, and if by look
ing upon me any one of you can be
turned back from destruction l shall
think that God, in His infinite mercy,
has allowed me to fill sphere of useful
ness which shall enable me to bear with
fortitude the imputation constantly
hurled upon me by my own conscience,
that have lived in vain.


"Gentlemen of the jury, as you pc
ruse the pages of the old poets you will
see how they have deified the wine-cup.
They have wreathed it with the flowers
of fancy, surrounded it with the halo of
song and peopled its bloody depths with
the creatures of their own bright imagi-
nations, until one might almost believe
it to be the wellspring of human hap
piness, when bitter experience tells us,
in very different language, that it is the
fountain-head of misery, the abode OF
the demon that destroys our very lives.
Here one of the jurors wiped away a
tear with his coat-sleeve. There is
something which comes up in the fumes
of the cup that fools call inspiration, but
it is cunning reptile which, crawling
up from the dregs of the grape. enters
the window of the brain and steals away
like a thief in the night with our realon
fast in its embrace. Here the speaker
poured and took a drink of water.
There is hand in the wine cup which at
any moment may put its felOn grip upon
your thrOats and strapgle you as a
strong man might a babe. Here several
OF the jurors pulled down their collars.
Gentlemen of the jury, 1 have not long
to stay. Two mighty miners are delv-
ing on this lode-Time and Death.
They are daily at their posts, working
together, side by side, as one eternal
shift, clearing away the rubbish of waste
rock and pushing along the ledge. Be-
fore long ! shall be gathered into the
vast laboratory of Death, piece of use
less porphyry, to be cast into the waste
dumps of hell" Here the old fellow
pulled from his pocket red handker.
chief and began to sob. The effect was
and striking. The old miners
and the jury, moved by his forcible
simile, broke forth into simultaneous
sob, in which the Court, spectators and
Prosecuting Attorney joined. The
Chronicle reporter was 80 moved that he
was obliged to go out and brace up with
a stiff cocktail. The jury was obliged
to find him guilty, but recommended
him to the mercy of the Court. He was
accordingly fined $5, which the jury
paid on the spot, and the old man slid
out of the door with the remark: 81
knew I'd ketch 'em. Blast my buttons,
but didn't / work up the briny, though,
didn'tIw A subsequent investigation
led to the discovery that the bum was
an ex actor from Frisco, who was just
giving the Jury a touch of his profession.