Rensselaer Union, Volume 3, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 January 1871 — THE CRIMINAL WITNESS. [ARTICLE]

THE CRIMINAL WITNESS.

In the spring j)f 1841 I was called to Jackson, Alabama, to attend court, having keen-engaged to defend a young man who had been accused of robbing the mail. I arrived early in the morning and immediately had a long conference with my client. The stolen mail-bag had been recovered, as well as the letters from which the money had been rifled. These letters were given me for examination, and I returned them to the prosecuting attorney. Having got through my preliminaries about noon, and as the case would not come off before the next day, I went into court in the afternoon to see what was going on. The first case that came up was one of theft, and the prisoner was a young girl not more than seventeen years of age, named Elizabeth Madworth. She was very pretty, and bore that mild, innocent look which we seldom find in a culprit. She had been weeping profusely, but, as she found so many eyes upoj her, she became too frightened to weep more. The complaint against her set forth that she had stolen a hundred dollars from a Mrs. Naseby, and as the case went on I found that Mrs. Naseby, a wealthy widow living in the town, was the girl’s mistress.. The poor girl declared her innocence in the wildest terms, hut circumstances were hard agninst her. A hundred dollars in bank notes had been stolen from her mistress’ room, and she was the only one that had access there. At tlris juncture, when the mistress was upon the witness stand, a' young man came and caught me by tlio arm. He was a fine looking man, and big tears stood in his eyes. “ They tell me you arc a good lawyer,” he whispered, “ 1 am a lawyer,” I answered. “ Then do save her! You certainly can do it, for she is Innocent” “ Is she your sister?” ” No, sir," lie addctL “ but—but—” Here he hesitated. “Has she no counsel?” I asked. “ None that’s good for anything—nobody that’ll do anything for her. O, save her; and I’ll give you all I’ve got. I can’t give you much, hut I can raise you something.” I reflected a moment. I cast my eyes towards the prisoner, and she was at that moment looking at me. She caught my eye, and the volume of entreaties I read in her glance resolved me in a moment. I arose and went to the girl, and asked if she wished me to defend her. She said yes. I then informed the Court that I was ready to enter the case, aad was admitted at once. The loud murmur of satisfaction that ran quickly through the room told me where the sympathies of the people were. I then asked for a moment’s cessation, that I might speak to my client. I went and sat down by her side, and asked her to state candidly the whole case. She told me'she had lived with Mrs. Naseby nearly two years, and had never had any trouble before. About two weeks ago, she said, her mistress lost a hundred dollars. “ She missed it from her drawer,” the girl said to me, “ and asked mo about it. I said I knew nothing about it. That evening, I know Nancy Luther told Mrs. Naseby that she saw me take the money from the drawer—that she watched me through the keyhole. Then they went to my trunk and-found twenty-five dollars of the missing money there. But, sir, I never took it, and somebody must have put it there!” & I then asked her if she suspected any one. “I don’t know,” she said, “who could have done it but Nancy. She has never liked me, because she thought I was better treated than she. She is the cook. I was the chambermaid.’’ She pointed Nancy Luther out to me. She was a stout, bold-faced girl, somewhere about five and tw'enty years old, with a low forehead, small, grey eyes, a pug nose and thick lips. I caught her glance at once, as it rested on the fair r _young prisoner, and the moment I detected the look of hatred which I read there, I was convinced that she was the rogue. “Nancy Luther did you say that girl’s name was ?” I asked, for a new light had broken in upon me. "Yes, sir. I left the court room and went to the prosecuting attorney and asked him for the letters I had handed him—the ones that had been stolen from tho moil bag. He save them to me, and having selected one returned the rest and told liim I would see he had the one I kept before night I then returned to the court foom, and the case went on. a. Mrs. Naseby resumed her testimony. She said she intrusted the room to the prisoner’s care, and that no-.one else had access there save herself. The* she dascribed about missing the money, and closed by telling how she found twentylive dollars of the misging money in the prisoner’s trunk. She could swear it was the identical money ahe had lost, in two tens and one five dollar bank notes.

“Mrs. Naseby,” said I, “when you first missed the money, had you any reason to believe that the prisoner had token it ?” “No, sir,” she answered. “Had you ever bofore detected her in any dishonesty?” %o, sir.” “ Should you have thought of searching her trunk had not Nancy Luther advised and informed you ?” “ No, sir." Mrs. NasebyJeft tire stand and Nancy Luther took her place. She came up with a bold look, and upon me she cast a defiant look, as if to say, “ Trap me if you can.” She gave her evidence as follows : She said that on the night the money was token she saw tho prisoner going up stairs, and from the sly manner in which she went up she suspected all was not right. So she followed her up. “Eliza beth went to Mrs. Naseby’s room and shut the door after her. I stooptd down and looked through the keyhole, and saw her take the money, and put it in’her pocket. Then she stooped down and picked up the lamp, and as I saw she was coming up I hurried away.” Then she went on, told how she had informed her mistress of this, and how she proposed to search the girl’s trunk. I called Mrs. Naseby to the stand. “ You said that no one, save yourself and the prisoner, had access to your room,” I said. “ Now, could Nancy Luther have entered the room, if she wished?” “Certainly, sir; I meant that no one else had any right there.”

I saw that Mrs. Naseby, though naturally a hard woman, was somewhat moved by, poor Elizabeth’s misery. “ Could your cook have known, by any means in your knowledge, where your_ money was?” : —• ~ “ Yes, sir; for she has often come to my room while I was there, and I have often given her money to buy provisions of market-men who happened to.come along with their wagons.” “ One more question; Have you known bf the prisoner having used any money since this was stolen ?” “ No, sir.” I now called Nancy Luther back, and she began to tremble a little, though her look was as bold and defiant as ever. “ Miss Luther," I said, “ why did you not inform your mistress at once of what you had seen, without waiting for her to ask about the lost money ?’’ « Because I could not at once make up my mind to expose the poor girl,” she answered promptly. hole and saw her take the money ?” “ Yes, sir.” “ Where did sho plsce the lamp when she did so?” ... “ On the bureau.” “ In your testimony you said she stooped down when she picked it up. What do you mean by that ?” The girl hesitated, and finally she said she did not mean anything, only that she picket! up the lamp. “Very well,” said I; “how long have you been with Mrs. Naseby ?” “ Not quite a year, sir.” “ How much does she pay you a week ?” “ A dollar and three-quarters.” “ Have you token up any of your pay since yeu have been there ? ’ “ Yes, sir.” “ How much ?” • “ I don’t know, sir.” “ Why don’t you know ?” “ How should I ? I liare token it at different times, ust as I wanted it, and kept no account ’ “ Now, if you had wished to harm the prisoner, could you have raised twenty-live dollars to put in her trunk?” “ No, sir," she replied, with virtuous indignation. 1 “ Then you have not laid up any money since you have been there ?” “ No, sir, only what Mrs. Naseby may owe me.” “ Then you did not have twenty-five dollars when you came there ?’’ “ No, sir; and what’s more, the money found in the girl’s trunk was the money Mrs. Naseby lost. You might have known that if you’d remember what you asked her.” This was said very sarcastically, and was intended as a crusher upon the idea that she should have put the money in the prisoner’s trunk. However I was not overcome entirely. “ Will you tell me if you belong to this State?” “ I do, Bir.” “In what town?” She hesitated, and for an instant the bold look forsook her. But she finally answered. I next turned to Mrs. Naseby. “ Do you ever take a receipt from your girls when you pay them?” “ Always.” “ Can you send and get one of them for me ?” “She has told you the truth, sir, about the payments,” said Mrs. Naseby. “O, I don’t doubt it,” I replied,- “ but particular proof is the thing for tho court room. So, if you can, I wish you would procure the receipt.” <, She said she would willingly go if the Court said so. The Court did s4y so, and she went. Her dwelling was not far off, and she soon returned and handed me four receipts, which I took andexamined. They were signed in a strange, staggering hand by the witness. “ Now, Nancy Luther,” I said, turning to the witness, and speaking in a quick, startling tone, at the same time looking her sterply in the eye, “please tell the Court and jury, and me, where you got the sev«n-ty-five dollars you sent in your letter %> your sister in Somers?” At this she staitcd as though a volcano burst at her feet. She turned pale as death, and every limb shook violently. I waited until the people could have an opportunity to see her emotion, and then I repeated the question. “ I—never—sent—any,” she gasped “ You did!" I thundered, for I was excited now. “I—l didn’t,” she faintly muttered, grasping the railing by her side for support. “ May It please your Honor and gentlemen of the jury,” I said, as soon as I looked the witness out of countenance, “ I came here to defend a man who was arrested for robbing the mail, and in thy course of my preliminary examinations I had access to the letters which had been torn <Tpcn and robbed of money. When I entered upon this case, and heard the name of this witness pronounced, I went out and got this letter which I now hold, for I remembered having seen one hearing the signature of Nancy Luther, Tills letter was token from the mail bag, and it contained seventy-five dollars, ana by looking at thfc postmark you will observe that it was mailed the day after the hundred dollars were token from Mrs. Naseby’s drawer. I will read it to you if you please.’’ » The Court nodded assent, and I read the

following, which was without date, save that made by the postmaster upon tho outside. I give it verbatim: “Sistxr Donees: • "I cond-jru hear eeventy-flve dolers which 1 want vu to cepe for mo til I cum hum I cant cepe It cos Im afeerd It will git stole, dont epeek wun word to a liven nolo bout this I dout want nobody to uo Ive got eny mony, vu wont will yu. lam fust rate only that gude for nothin snipe of llz madworth is hear yet—but I hop to git over her now. you ne I rote to yu bout her. glv my luv to all tnqulrtn < eu». this Is from yur sister tlfl doth. “Nanoi Luthib." “Now, your Honor,” I said, as I gave him the lettei 1 , and also the receipts, “you will sec that the letter is directed to Dorcas Luther, Somers, Montgomery county. And you will observe that one hand wrote that letter and signed the receipt, and the jury will also observe. And now I will only add, it is plain to see how the hundred dollars were disposed of. Seventy-five were sent off for safe keeping, while the remaining twenty-five dollars were placed in the prisoner’s trank, for the purpose of covering the real criminal. Of the tone of parts of the letter, you must judge. I now leave my client’s case in your hands.” Tile case was given to the jury immediately following their examination of the letter. They had heard from the witness’ own mouth that she had no money of her own, and without leaving their seats they returned a verdict of “Not guilty.” I will not describe the scene that followed ; but if Nancy Luther had not been immediately arrested for theft, she would have been obliged to seek protection of the officers, or the excited people would have maimed her at least, if they had not done more. The next morning I received •a note handsomely written, in which I was told that the within was but a slight token of the gratitude due me for my efforts in of the poor, defenceless maiden. It was signed “Several Citizens,” and contained one hundred dollars. Shortly afterwards the youth, who first begged me to take up the case, called upon me with all the money he could raise; but I showed that I had already been paid, and refused his hard earnings. Before I left town I was a guest at his wedding—my fair client being the happy bride.