Democratic Sentinel, Volume 13, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 September 1889 — They All Stole. [ARTICLE]

They All Stole.

A few years after the war Ed. Collins, a shiftless, fellow 1 of Mercer County, Ky., was in - dieted for stealing. The case came up before Judge I. C. Wickllfe, then Circuit Judge. The trial was in the Court House at Harrodsburg. Pnil. Thompsoh, Jr., was prosecuting attorney, ana Phil. Thomp son, Sr., and Col. Thomas C. Bell appeared for the defence. Ed. Butts was Circuit Clerk. Collins had been a soldier in the Federal army, while every man on the jury, the prosecutiug attorney, chief clerk, and the judge himself, had fought for the Confederacy. The witnesses were brought forward and a plain case of theft was made out against Collins. The only dependence of tlie defence was the testimony of Collins’ daughter Rose, who was to prove an alibi. She was a beautiful woman, with well-rounded figure, deep black eyes, cop] exion in which the hues of health sat beautifully enthroned, and black hair that swept unconfined almost to the floor in long waves. She was made to tell her story for all it was worth, and Col. Bell made a touching plea, appealing to the sympa tliies of tfie jury on behalf of a beautiful woman in distress, with all the power of language he could summon, but the veterans of Done Ison and Shiloh were unmoved Then old Phil. Thompson laid himself out to mystify them and raise a doubt as to the prisoner’s guilt, and he, too, finally began to appeal to their gallantry. In the midst of a glowing sentence, however, he < aught the jury yawning, lookdng out of the window and seemingly wholly inattentive. Breaking off his pathos, the old lawyer leaned back on a t ble a moment, eyed the jury quizzically with a humorous twinkle in his eye and said: “Look here, gentlemen, this slealing was done during the war, and you can’t do anything with a man for that. You, Tom Mundy 1 ” he continued, turning and pointing to the foreman of the jury, a strap - ping big Kentuckian, “don’t you remember that sheep you stole in Powell’s Valley? Yon can’t convict Ed. Collins.’’ There was a general waking up of the jury, and a smile went around. “And you, Dan Bond, you know that horse you stole from Lord Alexander in the spring of 1862! You can’t send a man to prison for stealing cattle.”

The smile broke into an open guffaw in one or two places, and half a dozen men on the back seats stood up. As the old man took up the jury one by one and recalled his shortcomings the laughter became general and continuous. Finally he said: “ nd there’s my Phil: wasn’t he one of Morgan’s worst horse thieves? What can he say of Ed. Collins? And you, Ed. Butts; you remember the raid on that old Yankee sympathizer in East Tennesee? Ahd you raise your voice against Collins? And his Uonor on the bench* if the truth were knowu But the rest of the sentence was drowned in a si ou of laughter and uproar of applause that shook the building. The jury was out ten minutes, and they brought in a verdict of acquittal.