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E need not emphasize the many examples in which the identity of an accused person has been mistaken by positive and honest witnesses. Those who are old enough to remember the trial of Webster for the murder of Dr. Parkman will recall that several witnesses of the most perfect good faith swore very positively that they saw Dr. Parkman on Washington Street, in Boston, at three o'clock or thereabouts, on Saturday afternoon, when it was proved, and appeared afterward by Webster's confession, that Dr. Parkman had ceased to live before noon of that day.

A singular case of mistaken identity occurred not very long ago at the Old Bailey Court in London. A young man was arraigned for a serious crime. It was alleged that the crime was committed on a certain day, which we will say was the 10th of March. A number of persons swore positively that the prisoner was the criminal, and a very strong web of evidence closed around him. The identity at least seemed fully proved. The prisoner, who defended his own case, did not cross-examine the prosecution witnesses; and when the case against him was closed, he announced that he had no witnesses to call. He simply requested the judge to order the records of the court for the 10th of March (the day on which the crime was committed) to be produced. It then appeared that on that very day he was being tried at the Old Bailey for another offence, of which, by the way, he had been acquitted. This indisputable proof of a perfect alibi, of course, put an end to the case against him, and he was at once discharged.

The illustrations of the various phases of circumstantial evidence are, of course, almost numberless; and we can only select here and there one worthy of study for some peculiarity of incident or character, remarkable either for rarity or mystery. Two cases entirely dissimilar, yet both putting into bold relief the bearing of indirect evidence, merit brief narration. Motive to commit a crime, as has often been said, is difficult of measurement, since crimes have frequently been committed from what appear to the ordinary mind very inadequate motives. The murder of Madame Pauw in France, some twenty years ago, shows, on the other hand, how a conspicuous and powerful motive, in the absence of other conclusive evidence, sometimes puts justice successfully upon the track of a criminal. Madame Pauw was a widow with three children, who had an intimate friend in the Comte de la Pommerais. This titled personage was in need of money, and had a head for scheming. He planned a fraud upon eight insurance companies, and persuaded the poor widow to become his instrument in it. Her life was to be insured; she was then to feign a dangerous illness; and while lying apparently in a serious strait, the insurance companies were to be persuaded to change the life-policies into annuities. The Count advanced the premiums; the policies were made out, transferable by indorsement. Madame Pauw was then induced to indorse them to him, and also to make a will in his favor. The next thing was for the widow to pretend to fall ill, which she did; but instead of the policies being transformed into annuities, the poor lady died! It was a grave blunder of the count to tell the doctor when he came in, that Madame Pauw had fallen downstairs; for not only was this denied by abundant testimony, but the post-mortem examination betrayed the presence of poison as the cause of her death. At once thereafter the Comte