vanity; neither does he appear to have been particularly ambitious, certainly not outside of his profession. And what is more honorable in him, we seek in vain in his correspondence and autobiography for any tendency to disparage or depreciate the abilities and accomplishments of his competitors. He had strong religious convictions, and Mr. Hillard says of him:—
"Trained in the faith of the early fathers of New England, neither the growth of his mind nor his observations of humanity led him in his mature years to depart therefrom."
His death called forth numerous manifestations of respect, admiration, and regret from his professional brethren in Massachusetts and New Hampshire.
ENIGMAS OF JUSTICE.
III.
By George Makepeace Towle.
IN a former article some stress was laid upon the proneness of justice, now and then, to take too little account of the possibility or probability of fabricated evidence. When a crime has been committed, of course the perpetrator will, as a rule, shrink from no device to divert attention from himself; and there are few, criminals who will not, at a desperate pass, seek to fasten their crime upon another. In doing this, a shrewd scoundrel will try to supply a chain of circumstantial evidence against the person who he intends shall suffer in his stead. He will, if possible, choose for his victim one who may easily be supposed to have a powerful motive for committing the crime, who has had the opportunity, and who may even have supplied to the real perpetrator the instrument with which the crime has been committed. Yet, now and then, instances have occurred of criminals striving at once to escape the consequences of their crime themselves, and to shield an innocently accused person from punishment for it. A curious illustration of this took place not many years ago in England. One day two men were seen fighting in a field. The struggle was fierce and long, and one of the men was seen to use a pitchfork. Not long after, the other was found lying dead in the field. The affray, and the bloody pitchfork, which still lay near the body, at once pointed out its owner as the murderer. He was easily traced, and was arrested, committed, and finally arraigned for trial. From first to last he most earnestly reiterated his innocence, and declared that not only had he not killed his antagonist, but he had been worsted by him, and had run away to avoid being pounded to a jelly. The case against him, however, was very strong; the fact that he had been seen using the pitchfork against the dead man, and that wounds evidently inflicted by it were declared by the surgeons to have been fatal, forced the conviction of his guilt upon all minds. The judge charged strongly against him, and when the case was given to the jury, every one expected their immediate return with a verdict of conviction. But hours passed, and the jury did not make their appearance. Finally they were sent for, when it appeared that one of the twelve had held out for acquittal from the first. The other eleven had at once voted for conviction. The judge told the obdurate juryman that the case was a clear one, the proof overwhelming, and that there was no reason why he should not coincide with his colleagues. He persisted, however, in dissenting; and after the
