been imparted to him, and, with a more cheerful heart than had lately
been habitual to him, entered into an animated conversation respecting
the great case of Biter _v._ Bit, then absorbing so much of the public
attention, frequently addressing Ulster, whose remarks were always
pertinent, brief, and clear. As I sat actively discussing the topic,
feeling no more interest in it than in the end of that cigar I just cut
off, and noting exactly every look and motion of the unfortunate youth,
I recollect the curious sentiment that filled me regarding him. What
injury had he done me, that I should pursue him with punishment? Me? I
am, and every individual is, integral with the commonwealth. It was
the commonwealth he had injured. Yet, even then, why was I the one to
administer justice? Why not continue with my coffee in the morning, my
kings and cabinets and national chess at noon, my opera at night, and
let the poor devil go? Why, but that justice is brought home to every
member of society,--that naked duty requires no shirking of such
responsibility,--that, had I failed here, the crime might, with reason,
lie at my door and multiply, the criminal increase himself?

Very possibly you will not unite with me; but these little catechisms
are, once in a while, indispensable, to vindicate one's course to
one's-self.

This Ulster was a handsome youth;--the rogues have generally all
the good looks. There was nothing else remarkable about him but his
quickness; he was perpetually on the alert; by constant activity, the
rust was never allowed to collect on his faculties; his sharpness was
distressing,--he appeared subject to a tense strain. Now his quill
scratched over the paper unconcernedly, while he could join as easily in
his master's conversation; nothing seemed to preoccupy him, or he held
a mind open at every point. It is pitiful to remember him that morning,