When, after about an hour or more of Schleswig-Holstein the
defendant's counsel surrendered the floor to the district
attorney, the latter found it quite impossible to secure the
slightest attention from the eleventh juror, who seemed to be
spending his time in casting compassionate glances in the
direction of the prisoner. In due course the jury retired,
but had no sooner reached their room and closed the door than
the old Teuton cried, "Dot man iss not guilty!" The other
eleven wrestled with him in vain. He remained impervious to
argument for seventeen hours, declining to discuss the
evidence, and muttering at intervals, "Dot man iss not
guilty!" The other eleven stood unanimously for murder in the
first degree, which was the only logical verdict that could
possibly have been returned upon the evidence.

At last, worn out with their efforts, they finally induced the
old Teuton to compromise with them on a verdict of
manslaughter. Wearily they straggled in, the old native of
Schleswig-Holstein bringing up the rear, bursting with
exultation and with victory in his eye.

"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?"
inquired the clerk.

"We have," replied the foreman.

"How say you, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty--of manslaughter," returned the foreman feebly.