should be supposed to have grown up on his part against his tormentor.  This delicate task was managed by the attorney with such consummate skill, that, when the evidence on both sides was closed, public sympathy, if not public conviction, had undergone a very perceptible change.  The prosecutors, aware of this, felt the success of their case endangered, and exerted themselves to the utmost to prevent the tide, now almost in equilibrium, from ebbing back with a violence proportionate to that of its flow.  But the argument even of their ablest champion, John ——­, seemed almost puerile, in comparison with this, the last effort of George ——­,—­an effort which was long remembered, even less on account of its melancholy termination than for its extraordinary eloquence.  The Kentuckians of that day were accustomed to hear Breckenridge, Clay, Talbot, Allen, and Grundy, all men of singular oratorical fame,—­but never, we have heard it affirmed, was a more moving appeal poured into the ears of a Kentucky jury.  Availing himself of every resource of professional skill, he now demonstrated, to the full satisfaction of many, the utter inadequacy of the circumstantial evidence upon which so much stress had been laid to justify a conviction,—­sifting and weighing carefully every fact and detail, and trying the conclusions that had been drawn therefrom by the most rigorous and searching logic,—­and then, assailing the credibility of the testimony brought forward to prove the habitual cruelty of his client, he gave utterance to a withering torrent of invective and sarcasm, in which the character of the main hostile witness shrivelled and blackened like paper in a flame.  Then—­having been eight hours on his feet—­he began to avail himself of that last dangerous resource which genius only may use,—­the final arrow in the lawyer’s quiver, which is so hard to handle rightly, and, failing, may prove worse than useless, but, sped by a strong hand and true aim, often tells decisively on a hesitating jury,—­we mean a direct appeal to their feelings.  Like a skilful leader who gathers all his exhausted squadrons when he sees the crisis of battle approaching, the great advocate seemed now to summon every overtaxed power of body and spirit to his aid, as he felt that the moment was come when he must wring an acquittal from the hearts of his hearers.  Nor did either soul or intellect fail at the call.  Higher and stronger surged the tide of passionate eloquence, until every one felt that the icy barrier was beginning to yield,—­for tears were already seen on more than one of the faces now leaning breathlessly forward from the jury-box to listen,—­when all at once a dead silence fell throughout the hall:  the voice whose organ-tones had been filling its remotest nook suddenly died away in a strange gurgle.  Several physicians present immediately divined what had happened; nor were the multitude near kept long in doubt; for all saw, at the next moment, a crimson stream welling