bitter and illiterate friend of the government saw fit to spring to his
feet and enter upon a violent harangue. Clemency would be misplaced in
the present juncture, he said. Death for one and all was the proper
measure to be meted out to Royalists and traitors. His truculent words
seemed to please the audience, and he sat down amid a tempest of
applause. For an instant there was no movement on either side of the
house, and then Richard Lincoln, the leader of the opposition, arose and
stepped out into the aisle, so as to command his hearers. A flutter of
expectation, a murmur of surprise, spread through the assembly, and as
he opened his mouth to speak, every ear was alert to catch his words.

"I rise," he said, "to speak for the people, the great, true-souled
people. They have, it seems to me, no representative here, or I have
failed to interpret aright the language of my predecessor. Are the
people merciless? Have they no heart? I know that the contrary is true.
It is no argument with them that others have preferred cruelty to mercy,
and vengeance to justice. I stand here to-day, for the people and for
justice."

He paused, and as no sound expressed one way or the other the feelings
of his auditors, he spoke once more:

"Let these men live. Fine or imprisonment will accomplish all that you
desire, save the satisfaction of revenge. Capital punishment in this age
of the world is an ugly smear upon the escutcheon of constitutional
liberty. Let these men live, and your children's children will write you
down in their books as worthy of remembrance. They are guilty, but blood
will not atone for wrong-doing. Let them live, I say, in the name of
justice and the people."

He finished and sat down. Not much of a speech in the way of argument,
some will say. It is the manner more than the matter of words that sways
men's hearts. No cheers were heard, it is true, but his hearers sat upon
the benches thoughtful and silent. The Speaker of the House glanced
about him, but no one rose to contradict the testimony that had fallen
from the lips of Richard Lincoln.

And now the judges arose and left the hall. For four hours the assembly
and the crowds in the streets waited in patience. Before the fifth had
elapsed the usher's rod announced that a verdict had been reached. The
silence was breathless. The Speaker took the scroll from the hands of
William Peters, the leader of the House, and read aloud that John Dacre,
as the master