tion" necessary under our statute to constitute murder in the first degree.

Gentlemen of the jury, why was it that when Arrison met Hiveley on Fifth street, and other places, that he did not recognize him? Why, simply because his mind was totally bent on destruction, and he was totally unconscious of all else beside.

Now, gentlemen, for this man to keep his own secret was a matter of impossibility; hence you find him writing to Mr. French, inquiring how public opinion was in Cincinnati. He goes home, he is tracked, there is a search for him, and he makes his escape by the back door. He then sends his brother to Cincinnati, while he goes to Iowa. He again writes, under a fictitious name, to his brother, inquiring again the opinion of the public. Gentlemen, I have not one word of reproach for that brother. I honor him, as I sympathize with the poor mother; but you and I must do our duty. Mark, gentlemen, the fear of the prisoner when he found that the brother had written to their father. He naturally thought that it would draw the suspicion of the authorities, and, after having evaded them so long and cleverly, that they might track his hiding place and capture him at last. How anxiously in his letter he instructs that brother to call on A, B and C; that letter which, by a slight mistake, in the letter "O" being taken for a "C," as if by the interposition of Providence, fell into the possession of another party. "Walk in," said he, "to each of their houses, make your true character known; operate particularly upon the sympathies of Dr. Chapman; I have reason to think that he is my friend." Now, if innocent, why operate upon the sympathies of people? A guiltless man requires no intriguing. But he was anxious to know what new facts had developed themselves. He wished to know if anything more had been discovered against him; if, while boarding at Mrs. Campbell's, some prying eye had detected him making the bomb and arranging the box. Does an innocent man want to learn if anybody knows anything against him? Why did he run away? Why did not you or I, or the inmates of the

college, leave? Why did he leave his trunk at the railroad. depot on Saturday, when he knew that he would need a change of clothes for Sunday? He knew that Allison was not at the college then, but he knew when he would be there. Why does he not produce the register of the steamboat with his name. inserted? Why was he on Western-row on Sunday, peering about, but to watch for Allison, for he knew that Allison's windows looked out on Western-row, and while watching there with murderous intent, the soft music of the church bells were pealing forth their invitation to come to the house of prayer; but the early lessons and precepts of his mother were all forgotten in the pursuit of his one dire intent, and the time, the place, nor the association connected with those bells, as the poet so beautifully describes :

"Those evening bells, those evening bells,

Ah. many a tale their music tells,

Of youth and hope, and that dear time
When last I heard your soothing chime,"

could not turn his thoughts from their dark project. Talk about his good character! How absurd! It is true, as testified, that he went to worship at the Baptist Church, in Catharine street. Mr. French testified to this fact, and that he always behaved well while there; but does this prove anything? Why, Manchester, the banker, went to church on the Sunday before he closed, and people would have called him a devout Christian and a good man, and a few days afterward widows and orphans found he was a swindler, and a worthy subject for the Ohio penitentiary. Dr. Webster, who murdered Parkman, stood high; and I remember, since I have been in office, the case of an old citizen, who for forty years had stood high as any any citizen of Cincinnati, and yet it was proved that he had for years been dealing in stolen property. While upon his trial, Nicholas Longworth and a host of the most respectable residents testified to his good character, but their business did not lead them to investigate his transactions, or pry into the mysteries of the police office.

The Court, gentlemen, will tell you that good character is

a defense, only when the case is doubtful. The prisoner's good character has not proved that he did not fight with the deceased; that he did not borrow a pistol, and did not use the expression, "I'll kill him yet," that he did not have the box made and the card directed. Forty-five witnesses have been examined and all identify him. Their evidence points to and centers upon him as truly as the rays of the sun to the earth.

I had almost ommitted to call attention to the statement of Judge Key, that this might be a case of manslaughter. Why, gentlemen of the jury, if this be not a case of murder in the first degree, it is nothing at all. Look at the fact of five days being employed in framing the murderous implement, and the idea of its only being intended to destroy property, when at the same time that it was charged with slugs, is preposterous; it is, as I before said, either murder in the first degree, or it is nothing at all.

Now, you will recollect that when the explosion at the college took place, Dr. Cummings thought people were shooting; others thought that a cannon had exploded; Dr. Baker thought that the house was struck by lightning; the halt, lame and blind rushed to the windows, and it was with difficulty that they were prevented from casting themselves out. Dr. Baker went to Allison to ask what was the matter. "In the name of God," cried Allison, "come to me, doctor, for I'm murdered." Mrs. Allison, at the same time, shrieked, "Come to me." Allison, whose bowels were protruding, and who had crawled into the next room, hearing the piteous accents of his poor wife, and regardless of his own acute sufferings, gasped: "Go to my wife"; while still that constant woman, sightless, mutilated and bleeding, with one arm shattered and hanging by a slender thread to her lacerated body, convulsively lifting her bloody stump in the direction of her unhappy partner, refused all aid until he was attended to. And yet we are told of this man's brother, and our sympathy is sought for one who has committed this deep and damning crime. Nay, more: even now, that in his cold grave, the grassy turf resting upon

his murdered corpse, they make an effort to blacken his character in order to exculpate the prisoner. And what do they say? Why, that he was arrested, lodged in the watch-house. And what was the upshot? Why, that after being detained there seven days he was discharged; and Mr. Dickson, who was then the Prosecuting Attorney, declared himself satisfied of his innocence.

Mr. Dickson.-I never declared that I was satisfied of his innocence.

Mr. Pruden.-Well, Judge Spooner said that he was. And why was he arrested? Why, upon the vague suspicion of two or three people, who, very probably, after his arrest, for the purpose of detaining him, slipped something into his pocket. They suspected him of being concerned in robberies committed at St. Louis; but he said, "I am innocent: detain me until I am proved so." He could have been bailed, but for seven weary days and nights he remained in that cell, with his faithful wife, with a devotion above all praise, notwithstanding that her woman's ears were outraged by the language of the drunken men who were brought during that time in proximity with her. Does she not, in her faithful devotion, remind you of the Ruth of old? Has there ever been evidence of more undying fidelity than this? She had watched over him in sickness. Her hopes and her affections were centered in him alone, and even in those dreadful moments, while mutilated, sightless, and writhing in pain and anguish, her thoughts and her inquiries were only of him. "Is my husband dead? Without him I do not wish to live!" While he regardless of himself, before the death-pang parted soul and body, cried, "O, doctor, for God's sake take care of my poor wife. She is mutilated and a cripple, and will have none to care for her when I am gone." Tell me not that a man like this was a bad man. To assert so is a damnable attempt to blacken his character-to break his already mutilated bones. Gentlemen, you are told that it is dangerous to convict upon circumstantial testimony, and juries too frequently think that their verdict alone condemns the prisoner to death. But it

is not the verdict any more than it is the testimony of the wit nesses, or the officers who made the arrest. You are called to render a true verdict according to your consciences, and to which you are sworn before high Heaven. If you acquit this man from conscientious scruples only, then you perjure yourselves. You are no more responsible for his death than the man who makes the gallows, or the rope, or Sheriff Brashears, whose duty it is to fulfil the last sad office of the law. It is the people and the law who are executioners.

It has been my duty to present this case. I am responsible for its faithful fulfilment. You, gentlemen of the jury, are equally responsible that you faithfully perform your duty. The pardoning power rests with the Governor. The Court, after you, has its duty to perform, and then, having discharged our obligations to our country, to our God and the law, we have done.

Gentlemen, I have finished. All I hoped was to call your minds to the leading facts of the case. I did not deem it necessary to argue every point made by the defense. I have discharged my duty; it is for you now to discharge yours.

THE CHARGE TO THE JURY.

JUDGE FLINN.-Gentlemen of the Jury: The defendant, Arrison, stands charged by indictment with the murder of Isaac Allison, on the 26th day of June, 1854, at the County of Hamilton, under the following section of the Crimes Act: "That if any person shall purposely, and of deliberate and premeditated malice, or in the perpetration, or attempt to perpetrate, any rape, arson, robbery, or burglary, or by administering poison, or cause the same to be done, kill another, every such person shall be deemed guilty of murder in the first degree.'

The indictment contains two counts, varying only in the description of the instrument used by the perpetrator of the act. You are to inquire, gentlemen: 1. Whether Isaac Allison is dead. 2. If so, you will inquire, did he come to his