He has but few words to say; they fall
like death-knells on the ears of his listeners. Some touching words
escape his hesitating lips; but duty, enforced by the iron rod of
slave power, demands him to sustain the laws of the land. He sets
forth the undisputed evidence contained in the bill of sale, the
unmistakeable bond, the singular and very high-handed attempt to
conceal it from the honest creditors, and the necessity of jurymen
restraining their sympathies for the children while performing a
duty to the laws of the land. Having thus made his brief address, he
sits down; the sheriff shoulders his tip-staff, and the august
twelve, with papers provided, are marched into the jury-room, as the
court orders that the case of Dunton v. Higgins be called.
Five minutes have intervened; the clerk calling the case s
interrupted by a knocking at the jury-room door; he stops his
reading, the door is opened, and the sheriff conducts his twelve
gentlemen back to their seats. Not a whisper is heard; the stillness
of the tomb reigns over this high judicial scene. The sheriff
receives a packet of papers from the foreman's hands, and passes
them to the clerk.
"Gentlemen of the jury will please stand up," says that very amiable
functionary. "Have you agreed on your verdict?" The foreman bows
assent.
"Guilty or not guilty, gentlemen?"
"Guilty," says the former, in tones like church-yard wailings:
"Guilty. I suppose that's the style we must render the verdict in?"
The foreman is at a loss to know what style of verdict is necessary.
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