JOHN J. CRITTENDEN create man, the various angels of his attri butes came in their order before him and spoke of his purpose. Truth said : ' Create him net, Father. He will deny the right, deny his obligations to thee, and deny the sacred and inviolate truth; therefore create him not. ' Justice said : ' Create him not, Father. He will fill the world with injustice and wrong, he will desecrate thy holy temple, do deeds of violence and of blood, and in the very first generation he will wantonly slay his brother; therefore create him not.' But gentle Mercy knelt by the throne and whis pered : ' Create him. Father. I will be with him in all his wanderings, I will follow his wayward steps, and by the lessons he shall learn from the experience of his own errors, I will bring him back to thee.' ' And thus,' concludes the writer, ' learn, O man, mercy to thy fellow-man, if them wouldst bring him back to thee and to God.' ' The latter portion of this passage has been the object of universal praise and admiration as indeed it deserves. This was not, however, the first time that Crittenden had used the image, as it had been credited to him in the papers of the country many years before. However, we may well congratulate ourselves that it was embodied in one of his reported speeches together with other beautiful thoughts instead of being preserved only in a fragmentary form. Later he pictured to the jury the effects upon themselves of their verdict in this manner: " Yes, you are to decide, and as I leave the case with you I implore you to consider it well and merci fully before you pronounce a verdict of guilty, — a verdict which is to cut asunder all the tender cords that bind heart to heart, and to consign this young man, in the flower of his days and in the midst of his hopes, to shame and to death. Such a verdict must often come up in your recollections — must live forever in your minds. "And in after days, when the wild voice of clamor that now fills the air is hushed — when memory shall review this busy scene, should her accusing voice tell you you
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have dealt hardly with a brother's life — that you have sent him to death, when you have a doubt whether it is not your duty to restore him to life, — oh, what a moment that must be — how like a cancer will that remembrance prey upon your hearts! "But if, on the other hand, having rendered a contrary verdict, you feel that there should have been a conviction, that sentiment will be easily' satisfied; you will say, 'If I erred, it was on the side of mercy; thank God, I incurred no hazard by condemning a man I thought innocent.' How different the memory from that which may come in any calm moment, by day or by night, knocking at the door of your hearts and reminding you that in a case where you were doubtful, by your verdict you sent an innocent man to disgrace and to death. . . . There is another consideration of which we should not be unmindful. We are all conscious of the infirmities of our nature — we are all subject to them. The law makes an allowance for such infirmities. The Author of our being has been pleased to fashion us out of great and mighty elements, which make us but a little lower than the angels; but He has min gled in our composition weakness and pas sions. Will He punish us for frailties which nature has stamped upon us or for their necessary results? The difference between these and acts that proceed from a wicked and malignant heart is founded on eternal justice; and in the words of the Psalmist, ' He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust. ' Shall not the rule He has established be good enough for us to judge by? "Gentlemen, -the case is closed. Again I ask you to- consider it well before you pro nounce a verdict which shall consign this prisoner to a grave of ignominy and dishonor. These are no idle words you have heard so often. This is your fellow-citizen — a youth of promise — the rose of his family — the possessor of all kind and virtuous and manly qualities. It is the blood of a Kentuckian you are called upon to shed. The blood that
