" His eyes glistened, and I saw pearl-like dew-drops gathering
in them; his thoughts were carried over the mountains to his old home.
"Ah, my good friend," I added "how their hearts must rejoice to hear
from you." Then, after a short pause, I remarked, "What is the case
against your prisoner? He, too, perhaps, may have a mother and sister
in the East, thinking of him as your mother and sister do of you, and
wondering when he will come back. For God's sake remember this."
The heart of the good man responded in a voice which, even to this
day--now nearly twenty-seven years past--sounds like a delicious
melody in my ears: "I will do so." Passing from him I went to the
other jurors, and, finding they were about to go back to the trial,
I exclaimed, "Don't be in a hurry, gentlemen, let us take another
glass." They again acceded to my request, and seeing that they were
a little mellowed by their indulgence, I ventured to speak about the
trial. I told them that the courts of the state were organized, and
there was no necessity or justification now for Lynch juries; that the
prisoner appeared to be without friends, and I appealed to them, as
men of large hearts, to think how they would feel if they were accused
of crime where they had no counsel and no friends. "Better send him,
gentlemen, to Marysville for trial, and keep your own hands free from
stain.
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