Lincoln,—Gentlemen of the jury, I came here to-day to defend this young man, William Armstrong, not for pay, but because I owe a great debt to his parents. They were kind to me when I was poor, and had but few friends. The father of this boy who has been unjustly accused, has gone to his long rest. His mother, now a weak, gray-haired old woman, is broken down with sorrow. But, years ago, when young and happy, these two welcomed me to their humble log cabin. They were poor, but they gladly shared what they had with the homeless boy who came to their door. They were father and mother to me. Now it is my privilege to plead for the life of their own son, whom I once rocked in his cradle while his gentle mother mended my ragged clothing.
Gentlemen of the jury, think of this poor boy's mother. Think also how young he is, and how unjustly he has been accused. Decide this case as you think it right and just, bearing in mind, that by this almanac, the words of the last witness are proved to be untrue.
(The jury wipe tears from their eyes. Sobs are heard in the crowd.)
Judge (turning to the jury),—Gentlemen,
