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4, 1863.] with a large spread-eagle at the top and the broad Seal of State at the bottom—presented, to the unaccustomed eyes of the spectators, rather an imposing appearance, and, I could see, made considerable impression upon them, for the subsequent portion of my examination was conducted in a somewhat more civil manner. Having with some little difficulty read my commission aloud for the information of his companions, the individual who conducted the interrogatory returned it to me, saying:

“Wall, it ’pears to me it’s ’bout all right. I’ve only one more question to ask you, Mister Scudder,—that’s your name, eh?—Whar did you git that arr nigger?”

“Yes,” said one of the group, scowling at me from under his bent eyebrows; “that’s the talk, judge. How do we know, although he is on Uncle Sam’s business, that he ain’t one of them dam’d Yankee abolitionists that go round, running off our niggers when they git a chance?”

“Hold on, Jim Brown!” exclaimed another of the men, quickly; “you must take that back. I hate an abolitionist like pison, but I won’t hear our Eastern folks spoken of that way, no how. I’m from the old Bay State myself.”

The person thus addressed grumbled out a sort of apology, and peace was restored. I had remained silent during this little episode, and now, as the best reply to the questions which had been addressed to me, I handed to the judge—as his companions called him—my contract with the owner of Ned, in which, in addition to stating the terms on which I had hired him, a paragraph was inserted to the effect that full security had been given for his value.

“It am all right, massa,” interposed my servant to the judge, while that individual was perusing the paper, “I’m Colonel Jackson’s boy; Massa Scudder, he hire me in Loo’ville—here my pass, massa,” handing him, as he spoke, the document the non-possession of which subjects any slave, away from home, to the risk of being arrested and detained on suspicion of being a fugitive, by the first white man he meets.

Our papers having been read and returned to their respective owners, I was informed that I was at liberty to continue my journey. I was about to avail myself of the permission thus accorded, when a mingled feeling of curiosity and compassion prompted me to inquire of what offence their unfortunate prisoner—who had regarded the whole of the previous proceedings with an air of stolid indifference—was accused.

“Hoss stealing,” sternly replied the judge, “and there ain’t a bit o’ doubt he’s guilty, for when he was stopped he was on the critter’s back, and the man as owns him is here. However, he shall have a fair trial.”

“A fair trial,” when the certainty of the guilt of the accused was thus assumed by his judges beforehand! On any other occasion I might have smiled at the obvious contradiction involved in the language I had just heard, but the life of a fellow-creature was at stake, and I shuddered at the thought of the fate that in all probability awaited him—for well I knew that the penalty of his offence by Judge Lynch’s code was death. It was but barely possible, I was aware, that any arguments or intercession of mine would be listened to; nevertheless, I resolved to make some effort in behalf of the unlucky prisoner, should an opportunity for my doing so present itself; and, with this object, I solicited and obtained permission to remain and be a spectator of the trial.

As is usually the case on these occasions, a rude attempt was made to imitate in some respects the ordinary form of procedure in a court of justice; although, as will subsequently be seen, not the slightest regard was paid to that legal principle which, in the American as well as the English system of jurisprudence, prohibits any endeavour to obtain from the prisoner himself admissions which may be used as evidence against him.

A jury was chosen, a judge appointed—the individual who had been addressed by his companions by that title assuming the duties of the office—and one of the group undertook to act as counsel for prosecution. No one, however, seemed disposed to volunteer his services for the defence. The prisoner looked round him slowly, to see if in any one face he could discover traces of either pity or sympathy. As he did so, his eye rested for an instant upon me. I could not resist its mute appeal, and on the impulse of the moment I offered myself as his counsel. I was accepted, and the trial immediately commenced.

The case against the accused was a very strong one.

The farmer, who had lost his horse two days before, swore positively that the animal on which the prisoner was riding when arrested, was the one of which he had been robbed, and this assertion was corroborated by two of his neighbours, who were present. I elicited from them, however, on cross-examination, an acknowledgment that the appearance of the horse in the possession of the accused did not exactly correspond with that of the stolen one—the tail and mane were differently trimmed, and there were certain spots on the one, which the other had not. NevertherlessNevertheless [sic], I did not succeed in shaking their testimony in the least; on the contrary, I almost immediately discovered that I was very decidedly damaging my client’s cause by pressing the point, for one of the witnesses quietly went up to the horse, which was tied to a tree a few paces off, and rubbing his hand on one of the spots in question, proved most conclusively its artificial nature, drily observing as he did so, that

“Paint war cheap, and a hoss war easy clipped.”

The evidence, in fact, on the point of identity was so positive and convincing, that I perceived it would be useless for me to pursue this branch of the defence. The explanation offered by the prisoner of the manner in which he became possessed of the horse, was a very lame one, and afforded me scarcely a better foundation upon which to sustain the theory of his innocence, than the line of argument I had just been obliged to abandon. He had purchased the animal, he said, of a stranger whom he had met on the road the