herself in myriad hues of green. Austen studied the jury, and wondered
how many points of his argument he could remember, but when he had got to
his feet the words came to him. If we should seek an emblem for King
David's smooth, round stone which he flung at Goliath, we should call it
the truth--for the truth never fails to reach the mark. Austen's opening
was not long, his words simple and not dramatic, but he seemed to charge
them with something of the same magnetic force that compelled people to
read and believe "Uncle Ton's Cabin" and the "Song of the Shirt."
Spectators and jury listened intently.

Some twenty witnesses appeared for the plaintiff, all of whom declared
that they had heard neither bell nor whistle. Most of these witnesses had
been in the grove, two or three in the train; two, residents of the
vicinity, testified that they had complained to the Railroad Commission
about that crossing, and had received evasive answers to the effect that
it was the duty of citizens to look out for themselves. On
cross-examination they declared they had no objection to grade crossings
which were properly safeguarded; this crossing was a death-trap.
(Stricken out.) Mr. Billings made the mistake of trying to prove that one
of these farmers--a clear-eyed, full-chested man with a deep voice--had
an animus against the railroad dating from a controversy concerning the
shipping of milk.

"I have an animus, your Honour," said the witness, quietly. "When the
railrud is represented by the kind of politicians we have in Putnam, it's
natural I should hain't it?"

This answer, although stricken out, was gleefully received.

In marked contrast to the earnestness of young Mr. Vane, who then rested,