He sketched in rapid, natural lines, the life of the recluse, the necessities of his situation, his keeping cows, and the means of restricting their range; dwelt upon the evidence of the tree fences, and argued that the fact that two of them were used for that purpose, was conclusive that the other sides were also fenced, for without them no enclosure could exist. And he referred to the well known universal custom of that early day.

Lord! how those old and somewhat mythical tree fences grew, and came out under his hands! The hunters had herded elk in their angles; bears had been trapped in their jungles; the doe hid her fawn in their recesses; wolves and foxes had found lairs in them; birds had built nests in them; men in search of strayed cattle had climbed upon them to listen for the tinkling bell; balm and thyme, wild sun-flowers and celandine had made them fragrant with perfume, and bright with color.

Basil Hall went to that spring, and built and occupied, because he owned it. His very settlement and occupancy was a proclamation of ownership--an a.s.sertion of right--the most satisfactory, and so the Court would say. Here he read from the Ohio Reports, to show that a parol claim, without any written color of t.i.tle, was sufficient to make the claim. He then referred to the evidence of Bullock, that Hall did by word claim such right; that the claim was acknowledged by Cole, who bought and paid for it. If Hall had been without claim of right, Cole would have turned him out; but he acknowledged it, bought, got it, and held it. The word of Ward could not be taken; he was interested; if taken, it could not be believed; if believed, it proved nothing, for the admission of Hall to him, that he had no right, was made after Hall had sold out, and hence not evidence against the purchaser, all of which he forcibly ill.u.s.trated; and the proposition was conceded to be law. He claimed that this defence under the purchase from Hall, was perfect in itself.

His defence of Bullock from the attack on him, was forcible and beautiful. The old man was a hunter, had been a soldier, etc., and the unforgotten Indian battles of the recent war flashed before the jury, and all the sylvan romance of a hunter's life was reproduced as by magic.

In the second place he contended that Cole made an absolute defense on his claim of t.i.tle under his deed; no matter though John Williams, Junior, was the b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a b.a.s.t.a.r.d; his deed was good to make a claim of t.i.tle under, by the common law of England, and that of every State of the United States; and he read authorities to the Court.

He then showed pretty conclusively that Cole left Connecticut in the spring of 1817, and was not a year and two months on the road; that he came in in 1817, and not in 1818; and this, he said he would demonstrate. John Fowler, Hiram Fowler's son, had sworn positively that his father worked for Cole, repairing the fence on the north.

Ward swore to the same; he had told this one bit of truth by some unaccountable accident; so that the plaintiff had also proven that Hiram Fowler had worked for Cole on this land, and hence Cole was in possession of it in the lifetime of Fowler. When did Fowler die?

"Now," said Bart, "I will read from this probate record, already put in evidence, but not read," and he opened and read from the record of the Court, begun and held in the court house at Chardon, for the county of Geauga, commencing April 17, 1818, the appointment of an administrator on the estate of "Hiram Fowler, late deceased, of the township of Newbury, in said county," and closed the book with a clap.

"Thus this record of absolute verity declares that Hiram Fowler had died before April, 1818, and the plaintiff and defendant both prove that he was alive, after Cole came into this State. Beyond the possibility of doubt then, Cole came to the possession of this land in 1817, and his t.i.tle is perfect in law, equity and morality."

When he closed this part of his case, a murmur almost of open applause ran through the densely packed house. Here he rested the argument.

In a rapid _resume_ of the case, he seemed to have stumbled upon the two little gra.s.s-grown graves of Cole's children, up under the old maples. He paused, hesitated, faltered, and stopped, tears came to his eyes, and his lips quivered. No art could have produced this effect, and a sob broke from many in the court room. Suddenly resuming, he finished his grouping in a saddened voice, and paused for a moment, sending his eager glance through the court room, till it finally rested on the face of Sam Ward. Looking at him, in half a dozen sentences, he pilloried him for the scorn and derision of the jury; and then turning to them, in a voice of wonderful sweetness, half sad and regretful, he committed the case to them, and sat down.

A great hum like that of swarming bees, ran through the court house, and men who had looked often into each other's eyes, looked again, with a joyous sense of relief.

During some parts of his speech, which occupied an hour and a half, men at times leaned from all parts of the room towards him, open-eyed and open-mouthed. At others they swayed gently to and fro, like tree tops in a breeze; and when he sat down, the oldest at the bar--the President on the bench--felt that it was among the best speeches they had ever heard, if not the best. The youthfulness of the orator of course enhanced its effect. It had some faults of redundancy, both of words and imagery, but its tone and manner were admirable. At times his delivery was very rapid and vehement, but his voice, always rich and full, never broke, or seemed strained; while in the moments of excitement, every nerve and fibre of his form quivered with the intensity of his emotion. His form was lithe and elastic, and admitted of easy, rapid and forcible action, which was never more than was allowable to one of his pa.s.sionate temperament.

When he closed, almost everybody supposed the case was ended. Wade arose with a radiant face, and said the defense rested the argument on that which had just been delivered.

Kelly was taken by surprise again, both by the quality and force of Bart's speech, and the submission of the case. The first carried him off his feet, and he hoped to recover during the delivery of another on the same side. He was a good chancery and real estate lawyer, but he was not the man to reply to Barton's argument. He followed him, however--that is, he spoke after him, and on the other side, for a half hour, and submitted the case.

The Court gave the case to the jury on the law, as the defense claimed it. Indeed there was no dispute about the law. He explained fully and clearly the case, which arose on the defense; and saying, in a very graceful and gracious way, that the merits of the case had been presented with a force and beauty rarely equalled, and which might tend to aid the jury in coming to their conclusion, he submitted it to them, and took a recess for dinner.

At the recess, the lawyers crowded about Bart to congratulate him for his defense, among whom Kelly was the foremost. Judge Markham came up, and with moisture in his eyes, took him by both hands and drew him away to Judge Humphrey, who complimented him in the highest terms, and insisted upon his dining with him, which invitation Bart accepted. The Judge was as much taken with his modest, quiet, gentlemanly manners, and quick, happy wit, as with his splendid speech in the court room.

The fact was, his exertions had fully awakened his intellectual forces, and they were all in the field, armed and with blades drawn.

He could not eat, and never drank, save water or milk; and now between the two Judges, and surrounded by lawyers, with a gla.s.s of milk and a plate of honey, petted and lionized for the moment, he gave himself up to sparkling and brilliant answers to the numerous questions and remarks addressed to him, and showed that, whatever draft had been made upon him, he had plenty of resources in reserve.

Upon a return to the court house, at half past one, the jury, who had made up and sealed their verdict, were called; it was opened and read, and as antic.i.p.ated, was for the defendant. This announcement was received with scarcely suppressed applause. The verdict was recorded by the clerk, and in due time followed by the judgment of the Court, and so ended Fisk _vs_. Cole. Cole went out of the court room, with one exception, the most observed man in the crowd.

Very naturally Barton and his last performance was the common theme of conversation in the region round about for many days. All over Newbury, as witnesses and other spectators returned, the whole thing was talked over, with such various eulogies as suited the exaggerated estimate his various admirers put upon his merits.

"What do you say now?" said Uncle Jonah to Uncle Josh, as the two had just listened to an account of the trial, in Parker's bar room.

"It does beat h.e.l.l amazingly!" answered that accomplished rhetorician.

"What did I tell you?" said Jo, at Jugville, to Uncle Cal, and that set.

"Oh, I was there," said Uncle Cal. "I always said, ever since the trial here, that he had the stuff in him. But he went beyond anything I ever hearn," and Uncle Cal relapsed into admiring silence.

CHAPTER XLIX.

WAITING.

Julia sat alone that evening in an elegantly, and, for that day, luxuriously furnished room, around which she had many times glanced, and in which her own hands had several times arranged and re-arranged the various articles. There was a bed in the room, which was large and airy, a vase filled with wild and hot-house flowers; yet it was evidently not a lady's room, and unoccupied save at this moment by the fair Julia, who with an abundance of color in her cheeks and lips, and a liquid light in her eyes, was nevertheless pensive and seemingly not quite at ease. She held two letters in her hands, which she many times re-read. They ran as follows:

"CHARDON, Wednesday P.M.

"_My Dear Wife_:--Barton reached here on Monday P.M. I did not think it best to call upon him, and did not see him till yesterday morning in the court room, when, without looking me in the face save for a second, he bowed to me. He had so changed that I did not at first recognize him, and did not acknowledge his bow as I would. Later, when his case was called and he came to make a remark to the court, he looked me in the eye, calmly and steadily, and I thought I could see in his face regret, the shadow of suffering, and a very kindly, but sad expression, which seemed almost like a revelation.

"He is much changed and improved. The old boyish recklessness and dash is gone. His face is thinner, has much character, and is disfigured, as I think, with a moustache, which gives him the look of a foreigner.

He is, of course, well dressed, and has the quiet, high-bred air of a thorough gentleman.

"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 gla.s.s 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--G.o.d 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.'

"'Barton,' said I, 'G.o.d bless you! you never can have cause of complaint against me or mine again: only give us your confidence, and trust us.'