prisoner was removed, and, so far as I saw, he was in a swound, and the court broke up.
I cannot refrain from observing that the prisoner during all the time of the trial seemed to be more uneasy than is commonly the case even in capital causes: that, for example, he was looking narrowly among the people and often turning round very sharply, as if some person might be at his ear. It was also very noticeable at this trial what a silence the people kept, and further (though this might not be otherwise than natural in that season of the year), what a darkness and obscurity there was in the court room, lights being brought in not long after two o’clock in the day, and yet no fog in the town.
It was not without interest that I heard
lately from some young men who had been
giving a concert in the village I speak of,
that a very cold reception was accorded to
the song which has been mentioned in this
narrative: “Madam, will you walk?” It came
out in some talk they had next morning with
