“Judge Humphrey is immensely taken with him, and he has so far managed his case admirably, and like an experienced lawyer.  We cannot keep our eyes from him, but watch every word and movement with great interest.  Though Wade and Ford are with him, he tries the case alone, thus far.

“I shall see him—­if he will see me—­as of course he will, the moment he is free from his case.

“Of course you will show this to Julia.

“Ever yours, EDWARD.”

“CHARDON, Thursday P.M.

“My Dear Wife:—­I cannot in sober language express my astonishment and admiration for Barton’s masterly speech this forenoon.  As much as I expected from him, I was completely taken by surprise.  Judge Humphrey is unbounded in his praises of him; but I will tell you about all this when I return.

“At the recess, among others I went to congratulate him, which was the second time I had been where I could give him my hand.  He held out both of his, and seemed unable to speak.  As soon as he could extricate himself from the ovation, he went with me to Judge Humphrey, who took him to dine with us.  His conversation at the dinner table was more brilliant than his speech.  He ate nothing but a little honey, and drank a glass of milk.  I confess I was a little alarmed at some of his sallies.

“On our way back to court, I observed he began to grow serious, and I arranged to see him as soon as his case was at an end.  The jury returned a verdict for Cole, on the coming in after dinner, and that case, thanks to Bart, is finally ended.

“After this, I left the bench and was joined by Bart.  It was difficult for him to escape from the crowd who followed him out; when he did, he joined me, and we walked off down the hill toward Newbury.  Bart was evidently depressed.  The re-action had come; the great strain of the last three days was removed, and the poor boy was sad and melancholy.

“We went on in silence, I not knowing just how to commence.

“’ Judge Markham,’ said he, turning frankly to me, ’you know I am a born fool, and just now I feel like breaking entirely down, and crying like a woman.  For these last four years I have lived utterly alone, confiding nothing to any one, and I am too weak to go so, always.’

“Oh, how I wished you had been there, with your sweet woman’s heart, and voice, and tact.

“‘My dear boy,’ said I, ’if there is anything in the wide world that I can say and do_ only let me know what it is.  I am more anxious to help you, than you are to be helped, if I only may.’

“’I don’t know how I ought to meet you, Judge Markham.  You wrote me a manly letter, full of kindness, and I answered—­God knows what—­I was so wretched.’

“’I could not blame you,’I said, ’I am much in fault towards you, but it was from my not knowing you.  I regret it very much.’

“‘I don’t know,’ he answered, ’that you should say that to me.  I feel sorry and hurt that anybody should make apologies to me.  Why should you have known me”?  I did not not know myself, and don’t now.  I know I can not hate or even dislike anybody, and I always liked you, and I do now.’