vestigation by Morrison as junior counsel was an important factor in the success of the defense. The legal profession understand the importance of cross-examination of witnesses, and especially in the trial of causes by the jury. As has been said by an eminent jurist, there are "danger lines all round a case, and the greatest skill of a lawyer in conducting the cross-examination of witnesses is necessary to avoid getting beyond them in his effort to break the force of unfavorable testimony." Mr. Morrison was very skilful and adroit in this branch of jury work. Indeed, he was master of the art, and if there were any weak places in his adversary's case by reason of doubtful testimony, he was sure to find them and expose the wrong. He was always gentlemanly but unsparing in his examination and usually very severe in his comments upon unsatisfactory evidence. While he was adroit in the cross-examination, he was equally strong in marshaling facts and preparing his own witness as for the ordeal for a trial. No member of the profession in New Hampshire understood better than Mr. Morrison the art of placing before a jury his side of the case. He was a great admirer of the system of the trial by jury. He was very familiar with its origin and history, and it was a pastime with him to discuss its points of advantage and maintain its wisdom as the most complete method that had ever been devised for the settling of controversies. دو "He cherished the old-fashioned trial by a jury of twelve men who were honest and intelligent citizens as it remains today... He regarded it as the "arena on which have been fought the great battles of right against wrong, of suitor against suitor, and as a bulwark against all encroachments on the liberty and civil rights of citizens." As has been stated by a very eminent jurist, "this trial by jury is not only the ancient magistry, rich in traditions of freedom and justice, glorified by prestige and prowess of all the great advocates of our race, but it is the proudest and most delightful privilege of our whole professional life. . . . "Here alone occur those sudden and unexpected conflicts of reason of wit, and of nerve with our adversaries; with the judge and with the witnesses; those constant surprises equal to the most startling comedy or tragedy. . . . Sorry indeed for our profession will be the day when this best, brightest and most delightful function, which calls into play the highest qualities of the heart, of the intellect, and of the will, shall cease to excite and feed our ambition, sympathy and loyalty." I believe Mr. Morrison appreciated and entered into sympathy with this admiration so well expressed, for trial by jury, and that it contributed very largely to his success before that tribunal. He Mr. Morrison died very suddenly December 21, 1888. had endured physical decline so long that his friends thought he might live on for years. He had hardly taken his bed in consequence of his last illness before death came. Old age had done its work, and the iron constitution had crumbled, and his life ceased to exist. It is not possible to do justice in the brief time allotted to this exercise, to such a life and character. He was a man of kind and sympathetic nature, loyal to his friends and to all causes in which he enlisted, possessed of a high sense of honor, brave and determined in the discharge of his duty, amiable and courteous as a companion, of unquestioned integrity and controlled by a keen sense of duty. He was a strong party leader, a brilliant advocate at the bar, on the stump or in the halls of the legislation. The impression that his life made upon our institutions and the effect upon the community in which he lived can never be fully known, but it will be agreed by all men familiar with his history that he rendered distinguished and honorable service to his country, discharged well his duty as a citizen, and contributed a great and valuable work to the honor of the profession of law. THEN AND NOW. A PAPER BY J. TRASK PLUMER, READ BEFORE THE MANCHESTER HISTORIC ASSOCIATION, APRIL 1, 1903. ""Tis sweet to remember, I would not forego The charm which the Past o'er the Present can throw In her web of illusion which shines to deceive." One of the most cherished prerogatives of old age is the privilege accorded to it of indulging in reminiscence. It is a source of legitimate and wholesome gratification to him who has attained to the allotted span of three-score years and ten to recall his boyhood days and, in memory, review the scenes through which he has passed. The man who, today, records his years by six or seven decades has the unquestioned right to congratulate himself on the fact that he has lived in the most marvelous epoch in the world's history. No other period in the annals of time has been so replete with discoveries and inventions fraught with such vital and beneficent import to humanity. So rapid, indeed, have been the changes in the methods and processes of accomplishing results that it is difficult if not impossible for the boy of today to adequately comprehend what was the environment of the boy of sixty or seventy years ago. And old methods are so soon forgotten and the new so readily adopted, that we of more advanced years, before whose very eyes this strange metamorphosis has transpired, do not fully appreciate the magnitude or importance of the transformation through which we have passed. It is not surprising that your ten-year-old son cannot adequately picture to himself the time when the only public conveyance from Manchester to Boston was a lumbering stagecoach or the still slower canal-boat when the traveller was fortunate if he accomplished the journey in a day. The boy is impatient now if he does not arrive in sight of Bunker Hill monument in ninety minutes. It hardly seems possible that we were the boys whom our teachers taught how to write, fold and seal a letter so that its contents would not be exposed. That great boon to the indolent as well as to the busy man, the envelope, came into use less than sixty years ago. Have you forgotten how we took the letters to the post-office with five cents for postage if its destination was not over three hundred miles distant, and if the correspondent chanced to reside beyond those limits ten cents was the lowest rates we could make with Uncle Sam in those days. Who would have then dared to predict that the time would ever come when two cents would take a letter to the farthest limits of the United States and Canada, and five cents to almost any part of the world. We had almost forgotten that the envelope, the postage stamp, the postal card, the free collection and free delivery of letters and parcels, the money order and registered letter service, not to mention free rural collection and delivery, were conveniences unknown fifty years ago. Have you, my venerable friend, forgotten how we boys, after the chores were completed at night, gathered around the table on which stood the tallow dip that we might see to cipher and "do our sums"? I remember now your people were "well-todo" and could afford the whale oil lamp. Whale oil was an expensive luxury, costing about one dollar a gallon. You might possibly have used for a short time a lamp burning what was called fluid. It was a kind of connecting link between the whale oil lamp and the kerosene lamp. We can remember very distinctly the first kerosene used. It was very dark colored and in burning emitted an odor in no way sugges tive of the perfumes of the pink or rose, quite different from the high grade kerosene oil of today. When first introduced it was sold for $1.25 per gallon. I remember when a boy and working in my brother's store on Elm street, of filling and trimming lamps in which was burned camphene. The lamps were rather intricate and required to be kept scrupulously clean in order to do good service. My memory may be somewhat impaired, but I have no recollection of doing anything else in that store but trim those seventeen camphene lamps. The lamps had to be trimmed every day, for it was then the custom to keep the stores open every evening in the week except Sunday. The gas pipes were first laid through Elm street in 1851. In the course of a year or two the pipes were so far extended that there was a gas light at the intersection of most of the streets in the more central part of the city. On nights when the almanac foretold the probability of there being moonlight, the street lamps were not lighted. No matter how dark and rainy the night might be the almanac's predictions were respected and the gas not lighted. On other nights they were promptly extinguished at eleven o'clock. But really it made but little difference whether the street lamps were lighted or not. The light was so dim and the lamps so far apart that they seemed rather to intensify than dispel the darkness. The story of the discovery of kerosene, or petroleum oil, of its evolution, how it has almost entirely superseded the use of all other illuminating fluids throughout the world, of the immense quantities produced, of the illimitable uses to which it and its by-products, including a university, are applied, of the wonderful revolution it has produced in the arts and manufactures, of what a boon it has been to the poor and rich alike, how its production has developed the most monstrous monopoly the world has ever known, of the enormous fortunes, beyond the dreams of avarice, which its manipulators have acquired, is a story indeed more wonderful than that of Aladdin's |