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The Master of Fiction has compared the course
of a supposititious history to the career of a stone,
rolled down the side of a mountain; which, at
first, labouring and stumbling along, in a slow and
hesitating manner, as if on the point of being arrested
by every petty obstruction, gathers force as
it descends, and at last pitches onwards with impetuous
leaps, which soon conduct it to the bottom.
To give the figure the completeness of an allegory,
it may be added, that when the moving body
has once acquired a little superfluous momentum
of its own, it communicates it to other stones, and
these again to others, which, increasing in number
as they grow in velocity, are at last seen rattling
down to the vale below, in a perfect avalanche,
as confounding to the sense as it is hurrying to
the spirits. In this manner, a single incident begins
its weary course along the declivity of story,
stirring up others as it rolls onward; until, in the
end, there is such a mass in motion, that, if all
were to be described as fully as at the starting, it
would require a Briareus himself to do them justice.
It is, then, difficult to keep pace even with
the original event, the course of which is as violent
as the others; and this can be done only by

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imitating the hurry of the moving body, and marching,
in great leaps, to the end.

We must pass by, with a word, the confusion
caused throughout the whole village by the
rencounter in the prison-yard; the steps that
were taken in consequence to follow the refugee
who had escaped; the proceedings that were had
in relation to the bodies, (for the wounded Staples
expired within a few hours after his surrender;)
and, finally, those that paved the way for the trial
of the unfortunate Hyland.

The morning broke; the hour of trial approached;
the village was thronged with the idle and the
curious; the court was opened, the grand jury empannelled
and charged, and in a short time returned
into court a formal bill of indictment against
Hyland Gilbert, with some two or three aliases, for
the wilful murder of Henry Falconer.

The details of the trial it is not our purpose to
narrate. There were the usual preliminary flourishes,
thrusts, and counter-thrusts, on the part of
the counsel, with those applications for postponement
and arguments against it, that weary the
patience of the good citizens who come to a tribunal
of life and death as to a raree-show; and perhaps
with some such feelings as conducted the
ancient Romans to the amphitheatre. There was
even an attempt made by the prisoner's counsel
(of whom the unlucky Affidavy was not one—at
least, he did not make his appearance,) to oppose
the jurisdiction of the court, precisely as Affidavy
had boasted he would do, but with so little zeal and
energy, that it was soon seen the prisoner was to
derive no benefit from such a plea. In fact, from
the beginning to the end, the counsel for the prisoner
conducted the case in so spiritless and desponding
a manner, as to convey the most

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melancholy prognostic to those who judge of the goodness
or badness of a cause by the colour of a
counsellor's complexion. It seemed as if they
were themselves too well satisfied of his guilt to
think of contending for his innocence; and it was
soon seen that they had good cause to despair;
for the prisoner, upon being formally arraigned at
the bar, rose up, and despite the opposition of his
counsel, insisted upon pleading Guilty to the indictment.

From the consequences of this rashness—a result
of mingled remorse and despair—the unhappy
young man was saved by the humanity of his
judges, who directed the plea of Not Guilty to be
entered, as, we believe, is usual, or at least frequent,
in such cases.

Upon being asked `How he would be tried?' he
answered, with the same readiness, “By God and
my country;” and the elder of his counsel making
some trivial remark on the latter word, coupled
with the hint that his domicil was strictly within a
foreign territory, he repeated the word with great
vehemence, insisting `that he was born upon the
soil on which he stood, and whether he lived or
died, and whether it owned the sway of the royal
government, or assumed the state of a free Republic,
it was still as much his country as before,
since still the land of his birth.'

He was directed to resume his seat; but the
readiness with which he seemed to abandon all the
little hopes remaining to him softened the hearts of
his judges, and brought tears into the eyes of
many who came to see, in a Gilbert and refugee,
some dread-looking monster, and beheld only an
emaciated youth, evidently nurtured on the lap
of gentleness. Indeed, there was no little confusion
produced on several occasions, by the

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compassion his appearance excited; one instance of
which happened, when Captain Loring, summoned
entirely without the knowledge of Hyland, along
with two or three others, for no imaginable purpose,
but to testify to the mildness of his disposition
and the excellence of his previous character, entered
the witness's box, and laid eyes on the youth
for the first time since his arrest. He no sooner
beheld his wretched plight, than forgetting half
his own wrongs, he began to blubber and stretch
out his arms, and declare, `after all, adzooks, he
didn't believe his young Herman had committed
the murder, for all they said of him.' Then being
reproved, and something in the rebuke reminding
him of his daughter, he burst into a rage, reproaching
the young man for his deceit and base outrage,
from which he was only diverted by a second
rebuke, to begin to blubber and defend as before.
In short, it was soon found that his testimony
was not to be obtained, and as his wits were pretty
generally thought to be infirm, he was directed to
be removed. This was, however, at a later stage
of the trial, and after the more important witnesses
had been examined. These comprehended those
individuals who were present at the scene of blood,
the chief of whom were captain Caliver, lieutenant
Brooks, and the adventurer Sterling. The
evidence of the two former might have been esteemed
sufficient of itself to convict the prisoner,
and there seemed a degree of cruelty in bringing
into the court, merely to confirm their testimony, a
man enduring so much bodily suffering as this
wretched Sterling. It seemed, that he had received
some serious injury, when hurled so roughly
by Oran Gilbert among the rocks; for it was remarked,
soon after the cavalcade was formed that
conducted the body of young Falconer to

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Hawk-Hollow, that he became wan and troubled, and
occasionally a little wandering in his behaviour.
He had grown worse during the three days he was
confined in prison, and had caused no little trouble
by his groans at night. In addition to all this, he
had bled freely from the cut he received from the
jailer, while attempting to escape; that attempt, as
he averred on a previous occasion, having been
made in his sleep, he being occasionally afflicted
with the infirmity of somnambulism. When he
appeared in court, all were struck with his haggard
appearance; the light of cunning had departed
from his eyes and mouth, being superseded in the
one by a certain wild, yet torpid and smouldering
ray, such as might be looked for in the organs of
an expiring maniac, while the other was distorted
with pain, of which it was hard to say whether it
existed most in mind or body. Upon being called
upon to declare what he knew in relation to the
prisoner and the deceased, he swore, to the surprise
of every one, `that he knew nothing to
prove the prisoner's guilt, but much that spoke in
favour of his innocence.'

Even Hyland, who had leaned his head down
in passive despair, was startled at a declaration so
unexpected; his counsel became a little animated,
and the Deputy Attorney General reminded the
witness, `that he was now in a court of justice,
speaking to truth upon oath, and not upon the
boards of a theatre, delivering the tricksy paradoxes
of a play-wright.'

“Very true,” said Sterling, with a ghastly smile;
“but that day is over.”

Upon being asked what he meant by the last expression,
he replied, `that he alluded to his original
profession of the stage, on which he once had his
day, like others.' He then proceeded to state, that

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while pursuing his vocation, some years before, in
the island of Jamaica, he had several times seen
the prisoner, then a young man of eighteen or
twenty, the heir of a rich widow, his kinswoman,
and occupying a highly favourable situation in
society, and being, as far as he knew, of estimable
character. He next encountered him in the month
of May, at the tavern of Elsie Bell; although he
did not immediately recognise him. The third
time he saw him was at the Terrapin Hole, among,
or near to, the refugees, among whom, as he caused
it to appear, he had himself stumbled by accident;
the consequence of which was that he was induced
to join the band, to protect himself from a peculiar
peril in which he was placed. On the evening of
that day, he accompanied the leader of the band
to the park of Gilbert's Folly, where the prisoner
was found struggling in mortal combat with the
deceased. A conflict ensuing, of which he could
say but little, having spent several hours previously
in drinking, he did himself attack the deceased
with a pistol, scarce knowing, in his intoxication,
what he did, and would have killed him, had he
not been restrained by the prisoner, who took the
pistol from his hand, and assisted the deceased to
make his escape; “and this the prisoner did,” added
the witness, with a firm voice, “although, at
that moment, he was bleeding from a pistol-shot,
received but a moment before from the deceased,
with whom he had fought a duel, and by whom he
had been treated with some unfairness and much
barbarity.”

He then continued to state, that the design having
been communicated to him of carrying off
Miss Loring, he himself, esteeming it rather a wild
frolic than a serious outrage, had obtained permission
to co-operate in an assumed character; and

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that what confirmed him in the belief that no
wrong was meditated to any one, was his overhearing
a conversation betwixt the prisoner and
Oran Gilbert, in which the former insisted that no
one should be injured, particularly naming the deceased
and his father,Colonel Falconer. At the time
the band broke into the house, he, being again overcome
by wine and in a mischievous mood, knocked
down the deceased with a fiddle; and had the
prisoner been moved by any malicious impulse, he
could have easily killed him at that time. As for
the murder itself, all that he could say was, that at
the moment the pistols were discharged, he was
himself nearer to the prisoner than was any other
person on the ground; and yet he could neither
swear upon his knowledge nor to the best of his
belief, that the prisoner had fired the pistol that
terminated the deceased's career. There were
several pistols fired, he knew not by whom, nor
did he believe any man could say by whom, for
the morning was still dark, and all were in confusion.
It was as likely that the deceased had been
killed by his own (the deceased's) pistol, as by the
prisoner's; for being notoriously an expert shot,
nothing but accident could have caused him to
miss the prisoner, at whom he aimed, and who was
so night at hand; and the accident that diverted
the pistol from the prisoner, might have turned it
against the neck of the deceased himself. Finally,
he was convinced, that, be the matter as it might,
there could have been no malice aforethought on
the prisoner's part, or he would have taken advantage
of those moments to execute his purpose when
he could have done so without risk or discovery.

This testimony, which was justly esteemed extraordinary,
coming as it did from one who had
been admitted as evidence against the prisoner,

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produced a remarkable effect throughout the whole
court and jury, as well as the spectators; and was
indeed more like a harangue designed for the prisoner's
benefit than any thing else. It was delivered
with pain, but still firmly, and at the close,
the witness appearing to be exhausted, he was allowed
to retire, while the Deputy, saying, `he was
gratified to hear such mitigating circumstances
advanced in the prisoner's favour,' added that he
would summon two witnesses to prove the murder
from the prisoner's own voluntary confession, and
would then produce two pistols, the only ones discharged,
one of which he would prove had been
fired by the deceased, the other by the prisoner.

The jailer and his assistant were called, and both
swore, that the prisoner had repeatedly called himself
a murderer.

Honest Schlachtenschlager, who had officiated
as coroner, was then summoned, and appeared in
court, bearing five pistols, being those delivered to
him by Brooks, while sitting on the inquest. These
being handed to the latter gentleman, he immediately
identified one as the weapon discharged by
the deceased; the second, he averred, he had
taken from the ground at the prisoner's side, and
the other, its fellow, from his holsters: the remaining
pair belonged to Sterling, and had been taken
from him before or after the murder, he knew not
which, and had been by the witness given into the
possession of Schlachtenschlager.

“Yes,” said Schlachtenschlager, “that fas fat
the young man said. T'at pistol mit the colden
star on the preech, and the plue parrel, fas the
ploodty feapon.”

Here the worthy magistrate was directed to
hold his tongue, his evidence not having been required,
and his commentaries being wholly

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superfluous. But he had said enough to give a new and
unexpected turn to the whole proceedings; for the
prisoner, who had been staring from the pistols to
the witness, with a sort of passive recklessness, no
sooner heard the words `golden star,' and `blue
barrel,' uttered than he started up as if seized with
a fit of madness, his eyes staring out of his head,
his arms outstretched, and his whole figure displaying
the influence of some extraordinary conception.

“The golden star! the blue barrel!” he cried, in
a voice that thrilled every bosom. “Oh heaven!
have I been mad up to this moment? Ha, ha, ha!
what a fool! what a dolt! Give me the pistol!”

“Sit down,” said one of the judges; and even
his own counsel endeavoured to force him back on
his seat.

“I won't sit down,” he cried in the same tones.
“The pistol! the pistol! my life depends upon it!
Oh, heaven be thanked! I am an innocent man.
The pistol! look at the pistol: there is a shot in
the vent, and it will not fire! I remember now, it
flashed when aimed at Sterling. Call Dancy Parkins—
examine it, look at it, prick it with a needle,—
blow in it, pour water in it—it could not harm
him! No! heaven be thanked! no, no, no!” And
so great became his agitation, that he fell to the
floor in a fit of convulsions.

This singular announcement produced unspeakable
agitation. The court was ordered to be cleared,
and the prisoner to be withdrawn a moment,
until restored to his senses. Dancy Parkins was
then called, and upon being shown the pistol, swore
positively to the effect, that one of them (he knew
not which,) had become useless in consequence of
a leaden shot, or some other substance, getting
into the vent; that the day before the attempt

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upon Gilbert's Folly, he had been directed by the
prisoner, upon whom he attended, to remove the
obstruction; that he had received it for that purpose,
but finding the removal more difficult than he anticipated,
and being hurried by other circumstances,
he returned it to the prisoner's holsters,
intending to resume the task at another time; and
then being separated from him, for the purpose of
intercepting the clergyman, had forgotten it entirely.
He knew not which of the two pistols it
was; but if, as he supposed, the prisoner had not
attempted to fire both, one would be found charged:
the other, that is to say, the one out of order, he
had himself taken care to empty of its contents
before attempting to remove the shot from the
vent.

The pistols were immediately examined, and one
found well charged. The other was empty; and,
as had been said, and as was hoped by almost
every man present, it was discovered that there
was some foreign body in the vent, which rendered
it wholly unserviceable.

“This is indeed extraordinary!” said a judge on
the bench.

“With your honour's permission,” said the Deputy,
who had been whispering to one of the under
functionaries of justice, and now looked up in some
perplexity, “I will recall the witness Sterling to
the stand; though I humbly submit, I know no
more than your honour what he has to say more.
Yet he desires to be recalled.”

“Ay, let him come,” said Hyland, clasping his
hands with joy. “He remembers the circumstance;
for I showed him the pistol, and he
told me the shot could be only taken out by a
drill.”

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