er not bound
to say anythink, yer know."

AN INTELLIGENT JUROR. "Will Mr. Wilkeson tell us about what time he left
this house that night, and where he went?"

Marcus raised his sunken head, and shook it, as if to dispel a
stupefaction. Then, in a faint and trembling voice, he replied that he
looked at his watch just before bidding Mr. Minford "good-night,"
and-observed that it was fifteen minutes past eleven o'clock.

QUESTION BY A JUROR. "What kind o' watch do you carry?"

ANSWER (_exhibiting the watch_). "An English hunter--- lever
escapement--- full jewelled."

At any other time, Marcus would have smiled at the impertinence of the
question, but he answered it gravely.

He then went on to say, that Mr. Minford had not replied to his
"good-night." That he repeated the salutation, and extended his hand as
a token of unbroken friendship. That Mr. Minford refused to take it, and
said that he had one last favor to ask of him (Marcus), and that was,
never to cross his threshold again. That he (Marcus) responded, "I
forgive you, sir. When, on reflection, you think that you have done me
injustice--as you will, at last--send for me, and I will still be your
friend." That he received no answer to this, save a shake of the head,
and immediately went down stairs into the street. He was feverish, and
his brain was in a whirl. Hardly knowing what he did, he walked the
streets hither and thither. He could not tell what streets he traversed,
but he kept up the exercise till he was tired. Then he became calmer,
returned home, entered the house with a latch key, and went to bed
without waking any of the inmates. On going to bed, he observed that his
watch marked one o'clock.

An intelligent juror. "You must have passed a large number of people in
the streets between eleven and one o'clock. Did you see no one whom
you knew?"

"No one; but at a corner some distance from here,--I could not say what
corner,--I noticed a policeman sitting on a barrel in front of a
grocery, smoking. He was a short, fat man, and his legs hardly reached
to the pavement. I remember him the more particularly, because I stopped
and lighted a cigar at his pipe. Just at that moment, the City Hall bell
commenced striking a fire alarm."

"What was the district?" asked the juror who was assistant foreman of
the Bully Boy Hose.

"The Seventh. I counted the strokes. I walked on rapidly, and soon came
up with another policeman, who was leaning against a groc