The Melancholy-Looking Juryman.

foreman replying in the negative, his lord ship directed them to consider their verdict. They turned round, and after an interval of five or ten minutes, to the surprise of every body, there were symptoms of disagreement in the box. The judge again asked if he should read over the evidence, adding : " Is there any question you wish to ask, or can I assist you in any other way?" The foreman, whose temper was appar ently ruffled., replied, before any one could stop him, that all except one were agreed. The usher was then sworn, and the jury re tired; the last to leave the box being the melancholy-looking man, who carried a portly-looking great-coat on his arm. Hours passed, and yet no verdict was re turned. At five o'clock, the usual hour for the rising of the court, the jury were sent for, and in answer to the usual question, the foreman said there was not the slightest prospect of their agreeing. The recorder, who was then member for Southampton, expressed his intention of going down to the House, and of returning at ten o'clock, ob serving that even if he had to keep the jury there all night he would never discharge them until they returned a verdict. At ten o'clock the recorder returned. Still no verdict was forthcoming. The jury were again sent back to their room. Five hours elapsed, and then — namely, at three o'clock in the morning — the usher came into court with the intimation that the jury had agreed. The twelve men dragged their weary steps into the box, their names were called over, and the foreman returned a verdict of " Not Guilty." I shall never forget the excitement of my little friend, the solicitor. He was wide awake, sitting in the well, where he had re mained all the time, going out neither for bit nor sup. He absolutely danced with delight.

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"Not a leg to stand on! Not a leg to stand on! " he exclaimed in my ear, and then hurried the prisoner from the dock. I was, I must confess, staggered at the result of the trial. Having unrobed, I was leaving the court-house, when in the lobby I chanced upon one of the jury. I could not resist the temptation of asking the meaning of so extraordinary a denotement. "Lor' bless you, sir," said he, " it was that miserable-looking chap as lost his wife. There never was such an obstinate, disagreeable fel low born. From the first he said he had made up his mind that the prisoner was not guilty, and he said he would never consent to a verdict the other way. When we went to the room he put his great-coat down in a corner, curled himself up on it, and com menced reading the newspaper; when any one spoke to him he said he would n't answer unless they 'd come over to his way of think ing. The wdrst of it was, sir, that we had nothing to eat or drink; but this obstinate chap kept eating sandwiches and drinking brandy and water from a great flask he had brought in his pocket; and when we asked him for some he burst out laughing and said he would n't give us a mouthful between us. Well, sir, what was the good of our sticking out? There we was, and the recorder had said he would n't discharge us; so we should have stopped there and starved. One by one gave in until we all agreed to ' Not Guilty.'" The next morning I had occasion to pass the little solicitor's office, and whom should I see coming out of it but the obstinate jury man. Strange to say, he no longer wore a melancholy expression, and in place of the black clothes of the previous day he was attired in a light tweed suit, such as a tourist affects, and he had a merry, self-satisfied twinkle in the eye.