in his hand. There were five
or six other prisoners sitting in the dock with him. Next to him
was a woman, her garments ragged, her hair matted, and her face
red and bloated. Next to her sat a squalid negro, who seemed
totally indifferent to the scenes that were passing around him.
On the other side of him was a young man, apparently about
twenty years old, of thin, spare form, with a red flush at
intervals coloring his cheek, and a hollow cough that sounded
like an echo from the grave. He was evidently in a deep
consumption, and had been already several months in prison. And
he leaned his head upon the railing, as though he would hide
himself from every eye. He had been tried a few days before, for
having been associated with others in a burglary, and found
guilty, and he was now present to hear his sentence.

After the formal opening of the court, this young man was the
first called upon, and, with trembling limbs, he rose to hear
the sentence of the judge. After some remarks upon the enormity
of his crime, and the clear evidence upon which he had been
convicted, the judge sentenced him to five years' imprisonment
in the penitentiary. When those words, _five years_, reached
him, he dropped back upon the seat, as if struck with a bullet,
and then raising his face to the judge, with an expression of
profound anguish, said, "Half the time would be more than
enough, your honor; I shall be in the grave before one year is
past."

The case of the negro-man was immediately called up, but Rodney
heard nothing of it. He hid his face in his hands, and wept. A
sense of his terrible position flashed upon him, and he could
not keep back his tears, or stifle his sobs. He wept aloud, and
_felt_, though he might not see, that all eyes were turned upon
him. His whole frame shook with the anguish of his soul.

Presently a hand was laid upon his, and a head was bent over the
bar near him, and a voice addressed him kindly: "Be calm, my
boy; there is no good in crying; who is your counsel?"

Rodney looked up, and saw a young man, well dressed, and with an
affable and winning countenance, standing before him. His face
looked kind and benevolent, at least in Rodney's eyes, for he
had spoken to him gently and encouragingly.

He replied to his question, "I have no counsel, sir; I have no
money."

"Well, I will try what I can do for you," said the young
lawyer. "Come out here, and sit by me, and tell me what you are
here for."

He