replied Jack. "He defrauded me in the pump; and
I ask you did you ever put your nose to a better pump than that?"*

* We have been taken to task about this description of the
jury-room; but we believe, and have good reason to believe,
that every circumstance mentioned in it is a fact Do our
readers remember the history of Orr's trial, where three-
fourths of the jurors who convicted him were drunk--a fact
to which they themselves confirmed upon oath afterwards?

"Give me your hand, Jack, we're agreed--he swings!"

At this moment an officer came to ask the same question, when, in reply,
the twelve jurymen came out, and, amidst the most profound silence, the
foreman handed down the issue paper to the Clerk of the Crown.

"Gentlemen," said that officer, after having cast his eye over it, "have
you agreed in your verdict?"

"We have."

"Is the prisoner at the bar guilty, or not guilty?"

"Guilty!"

Let us pause here a moment, and reflect upon the precarious tenure of
life, as it is frequently affected by such scenes as the above, in
the administration of justice. Here was a criminal of the deepest dye,
shivering in the dock with the natural apprehension of his fate, but
supported, notwithstanding, by the delay of the jury in coming to a
verdict. He argued reasonably enough, that in consequence of that very
delay he must necessarily have friends among them who would hold out to
the last. The state of suspense, however, in which he was held must
have been, and was, dreadful. His lips and throat became parched by
excitement, and he was obliged to drink three or four glasses of water.
Being unable to stand, he was accommodated with a chair, on which, while
he sat, the perspiration flowed from his pallid face. Yet, with the
exception of his own clique, there was scarcely an individual present
who did not hope that this trial would put an end to his career of
blood. After all, there was something of the retributive justice of
Providence even in the conduct and feelings of the jury; for, in point
of fact, it was more on account of his private crimes and private infamy
that they, however wrongly, brought in their verdict. Here was he,
encircled by their knowledge of his own iniquities, apart from his
public acts; and there, standing in that dock, from which he might have
gone out free, so far as regarded his political exploits, he found,
although he did not know it, the black weight of his pr