mur, had lain over the Court during his speech, still continued even for several moments after that deep and firm voice had died on the ear. So different had been the defence of the Prisoner, from that which had been expected; so assuredly did the more hacknied part of the audience, even as he had proceeded, imagine that, by some artful turn, he would at length wind into the usual courses of defence, that when his unfaltering and almost stern accents paused, men were not prepared to feel that his speech was finished, and the pause involuntarily jarred on them, as untimeous and abrupt. At length, when each of the audience slowly awoke to the conviction that the Prisoner had indeed concluded his harangue, a movement eloquent of feelings released from a suspense which had been perhaps the more earnest and the more blended with awe, from the boldness and novelty of the words on which it hung, circled around the Court. The Jurors looked confusedly at each other, but not one of them spoke even by a whisper; their feelings, which had been aroused by the speech of the Prisoner, had not, from its shortness, its singularity,
