and, as if ignorant of the novel circumstances with which he was surrounded, went deeply into the matter in hand, his election.  For a while the audience and the animals were quiet, the former listening, the latter eyeing the speaker with grave intensity.  The first burst of applause electrified the menagerie; the elephant threw his trunk into the air and echoed back the noise, while the tigers and bears significantly growled.  On went Prentiss, and as each peculiar animal vented his rage or approbation, he most ingeniously wrought in its habits, as a facsimile of some man or passion.  In the meanwhile, the stately king of beasts, who had been quietly treading the mazes of his prison, became alarmed at the footsteps over his head, and placing his mouth upon the floor of his cage, made everything shake by his terrible roar.  This, joined with the already excited feelings of the audience, caused the ladies to shriek, and a fearful commotion for a moment followed.  Prentiss, equal to every occasion, changed his tone and manner; he commenced a playful strain, and introduced the fox, the jackal, and hyena, and capped the climax by likening some well known political opponent to a grave baboon that presided over the “cage with monkeys”; the resemblance was instantly recognized, and bursts of laughter followed, that literally set many into convulsions.  The baboon, all unconscious of the attention he was attracting, suddenly assumed a grimace, and then a serious face, when Prentiss exclaimed—­“I see, my fine fellow, that your feelings are hurt by my unjust comparison, and I humbly beg your pardon.”  The effect of all this may be vaguely imagined, but it cannot be described.

Of Prentiss’ power before a jury too much cannot be said.  Innumerable illustrations might be gathered up, showing that he far surpassed any living advocate.  “The trial of the Wilkinsons” might be cited, although it was far from being one of his best efforts.  Two young men, only sons, and deeply attached as friends, quarreled, and in the mad excitement of the moment, one of them was killed.  Upon the trial, the testimony of the mother of the deceased was so direct, that it seemed to render “the clearing of the prisoner” hopeless.  Prentiss spoke to the witness in the blandest manner and most courtly style.  The mother, arrayed in weeds, and bowed down with sorrow, turned toward Prentiss, and answered his inquiries with all the dignity of a perfectly accomplished lady—­she calmly uttered the truth, and every word she spoke rendered the defense apparently more hopeless.

“Would you punish that young man with death?” said Prentiss, pointing to the prisoner.

The questioned looked, and answered—­“He has made me childless, let the law take its course.”

“And would wringing his mother’s heart and hurrying her gray hairs with sorrow into the grave, by rendering her childless, assuage your grief?”

All present were dissolved in tears—­even convulsive sobbing was heard in the courtroom.