or the State, arising and striking an
attitude learned in earlier forensic days--"yo Honah, an' gentlemen, I
rise to present to you, an' to push to the ultimate penalty of the law,
a case of the most serious, the most heinyus crime, committed by the
most desperate and dangerous criminal, that has thus far ever disturbed
the peaceful course of ouah quiet little community. There he sets
befo' you," he cried, suddenly raising his voice and pointing a
forefinger at the prisoner, who sat smiling amiably. "There he sets,
the hardened and self-confessed criminal, guilty of the foulest crime
upon the calendar of ouah law. A murderer, gentlemen, a murderer with
red hands an' with the brand of Cain upon his brow! This man, this
fiend, killed ouah fellow-citizen Calvin Greathouse--he brutally
murdered him. Not content with murder, he attempted to destroy his
body with fiah, seekin' thus to wipe out the record of his crime. But
the fiah itself would not destroy the remains of that prince of men,
ouah missin' friend an' brother! His corpse cried out, accusin' this
guilty man, an' then an' there this hardened wretch fell abjeckly onto
his knees an' called on all his heathen saints to save him, to smite
him blind, that he might no mo' see, _sleepin_' or wakin', the image of
that murdered man--that murdered man, ouah friend an' brother, ouah
_citizen_ an' friend."

The orator knew his audience. He knew the real jury. The shuffling
and whispers were his confirmation.

"Yo' Honah," began the accusing voice again, "I see him now. I see
this prisoner, this murderer, the central figger of that wild an' awful
scene. He falls upon his knees, he wrings his hands, he supplicates
high Heaven--that infinite Powah which gave life to each of us as the
one most precious gift--he beseeches Providence to breathe back again
into that cold clay the divine spark of which his red hand had robbed
it. Useless, useless! The dead can not arise. The murdered man can
remain to accuse, but he can not arise again in life, He can not again
hear the songs of birds. He can not again hear the prattle of his
babes. He can not again take a friend by the hand. He can not come to
life. The heavens do not open fo' that benef'cent end!

"_But_, yo' Honah, the heavens will open! They will send down a bolt
o' justice. Nay, they would send down upon ouah heads a forked
messenger o' wrath it we should fail to administer justice, fail to do
that juty intr