the death of that unhappy girl, nor ever will; an' it
would be well for himself that he was removed from this world, in which,
indeed, he's now not fit to live."

Little time was lost in the despatch of their brief meal, and they set
out, with the exception of Mary, to be present at the trail of their
aged father.

The court was crowded to excess, as was but natural, for the case had
excited a very deep interest throughout almost the whole country.

At length the judge was seated, and in a few minutes Cornelius Dalton
was put to the bar, charged with the wilful murder of Bartholomew
Sullivan, by striking him on the head with a walking-stick, in the
corner of a field, near a place called the Grey Stone, &c, &c, situate
and being in the barony of, &c, &c.

When the reverend looking old man stood up at the bar, we need scarcely
say that all eyes were immediately turned on him with singular interest.
It was clear, however, that there was an admission of guilt in his very
face, for, instead of appearing with the erect and independent attitude
of conscious innocence, he looked towards the judge and around the court
with an expression of such remorse and sorrow, and his mild blue eye had
in it a feeling so full of humility, resignation and contrition, that
it was impossible to look on his aged figure and almost white hairs with
indifference, or, we should rather say, without sympathy. Indeed, his
case appeared to be one of those in which the stern and unrelenting
decree of human law comes to demand its rights, long after the unhappy
victim has washed away his crime by repentance, and made his peace with
God, a position in connection with conventional offences that is too
often overlooked in the administration of justice and the distribution
of punishment.

It was not without considerable difficulty that they succeeded in
prevailing on him to plead not guilty; which he did at length, but in a
tone of voice that conveyed anything but a conviction of his innocence
to the court, the jury, and those about him.

The first witness called was Jeremiah Sullivan, who deposed that he
was present in one of the Christmas Margamores [Big Market] in the year
1798, when an altercation took place between his late brother Bartle and
the prisoner at the bar, respecting the price of some barley, which the
prisoner had bought from his brother. The prisoner had bought it, he
said, for the sum of thirty-five pounds fifteen shillings, whilst