eading something writ in huge letters on a distant wall.

"The Court is quite sensible of the extenuating circumstances attending
this sad case, but there are far-reaching considerations which the Court
can not forget. Here is a youth of good family, who elects to take up a
life filled with mischief from the start. Discipline has been lacking.
Here, at last, he so far oversteps the law that he appears before a
jury. It seems to the Court necessary, for this young man's own good,
that he feel the harsh hand of the law. According to the evidence
adduced here to-day, he has been for years beyond the control of his
parents, and must now know the inflexible purpose of law. I have in mind
all that can be said in his favor: his youth, the disparity of age and
physical power between himself and his accuser, the provocation, and the
possession of the whip by the accuser--but all these are more than
counterbalanced by the record of mischief and violence which stands
against the prisoner."

There was a solemn pause, and the judge sternly said: "Prisoner, stand
up." Harold arose. "For an assault committed upon the person of one
Clinton Slocum, I now sentence you, Harold Excell, to one year in the
penitentiary, and may you there learn to respect the life and property
of your fellow-citizens."

"Judge! I beg----" The tall form of Mr. Excell arose, seeking to speak.

The judge motioned him to silence.

Brown interposed: "I hope the court will not refuse to hear the father
of the prisoner. It would be scant justice if----"

Mr. Excell's voice arose, harsh, stern, and quick. He spoke like the big
man he was, firm and decided. Harold looked up at him in surprise.

"I claim the right to be heard; will the Court refuse me the privilege
of a word?" His voice was a challenge. "I am known in this community.
For seven years as a minister of the Gospel I have lived among these
citizens. My son is about to be condemned to State's prison, and before
he goes I want to make a statement here before him and before the judge
and before the world. I understand this boy better than any of you,
better than the mother who bore him, for I have given him the
disposition which he bears. I have had from my youth the same murderous
rages: I have them yet. I love my son, your Honor, and I would take him
in my arms if I could, but he has too much of my own spirit. He
literally can not meet me as an affectionate son, for I sacrificed his
good-will by harsh