He began by saying that he trembled at the responsibility he had undertaken; and he should, altogether despair, if he did not see before him a jury of twelve men of rare intelligence, whose acute minds would unravel all the sophistries of the prosecution, men with a sense, of honor, which would revolt at the remorseless persecution of this hunted woman by the state, men with hearts to feel for the wrongs of which she was the victim.  Far be it from him to cast any suspicion upon the motives of the able, eloquent and ingenious lawyers of the state; they act officially; their business is to convict.  It is our business, gentlemen, to see that justice is done.

“It is my duty, gentlemen, to untold to you one of the most affecting dramas in all, the history of misfortune.  I shall have to show you a life, the sport of fate and circumstances, hurried along through shifting storm and sun, bright with trusting innocence and anon black with heartless villainy, a career which moves on in love and desertion and anguish, always hovered over by the dark spectre of insanity—­an insanity hereditary and induced by mental torture,—­until it ends, if end it must in your verdict, by one of those fearful accidents, which are inscrutable to men and of which God alone knows the secret.

“Gentlemen, I, shall ask you to go with me away from this court room and its minions of the law, away from the scene of this tragedy, to a distant, I wish I could say a happier day.  The story I have to tell is of a lovely little girl, with sunny hair and laughing eyes, traveling with her parents, evidently people of wealth and refinement, upon a Mississippi steamboat.  There is an explosion, one of those terrible catastrophes which leave the imprint of an unsettled mind upon the survivors.  Hundreds of mangled remains are sent into eternity.  When the wreck is cleared away this sweet little girl is found among the panic stricken survivors in the midst of a scene of horror enough to turn the steadiest brain.  Her parents have disappeared.  Search even for their bodies is in vain.  The bewildered, stricken child—­who can say what changes the fearful event wrought in her tender brain—­clings to the first person who shows her sympathy.  It is Mrs. Hawkins, this good lady who is still her loving friend.  Laura is adopted into the Hawkins family.  Perhaps she forgets in time that she is not their child.  She is an orphan.  No, gentlemen, I will not deceive you, she is not an orphan.  Worse than that.  There comes another day of agony.  She knows that her father lives.  Who is he, where is he?  Alas, I cannot tell you.  Through the scenes of this painful history he flits here and there a lunatic!  If he, seeks his daughter, it is the purposeless search of a lunatic, as one who wanders bereft of reason, crying where is my child?  Laura seeks her father.  In vain just as she is about to find him, again and again-he disappears, he is gone, he vanishes.