of a prosecution for the murder of Capt. White, of Salem. It is, of course, somewhat different in character from any of the others. The report of this argument is understood to be a very accurate one. Those dwelling in the vicinity will remember the facts distinctly; but they may not be so fresh in the recollection of others, and we, therefore, copy the short statement with which the argument is introduced in this volume.

‘Mr. White, a highly respectable and wealthy citizen of Salem, about eighty years of age, was found on the morning of the 7th of April, 1830, in his bed murdered, under such circumstances as to create a strong sensation in that town, and throughout the community.

'Richard Crowninshield, George Crowninshield, Joseph J. Knapp, and John F. Knapp, were a few weeks after arrested on a charge of having perpetrated the murder, and committed for trial. Joseph-J. Knapp, soon after, under the promise of favor from government, made a full confession of the crime, and the circumstances attending it. In a few days after this disclosure was made, Richard Crowninshield, who was supposed to have been the principal assassin, committed suicide.

'A special session of the Supreme Court was ordered by the Legislature, for the trial of the Prisoners at Salem, in July. At that time, John F. Knapp was indicted as principal in the murder, and George Crowninshield, and Joseph J. Knapp as accessories.

'On account of the death of Chief Justice Parker, which occurred on the 26th of July, the Court adjourned to Tuesday, the 3d day of August, when it proceeded in the trial of John F. Knapp. Joseph J. Knapp, being called upon, refused to testify, and the pledge of the Government was withdrawn.

'At the request of the prosecuting officers of the Government, Mr. Webster appeared as counsel and assisted in the trial.

'Mr. Dexter addressed the Jury on behalf of the Prisoner, and was succeeded by Mr. Webster, in the following Speech:

I am little accustomed, gentlemen, to the part which I am now attempting to perform. Hardly more than once or twice, has it happened to me to be concerned, on the side of the government, in any criminal prosecution whatever; and never, until the present occasion, in any case affecting life.

'But I very much regret that it should have been thought necessary to suggest to you, that I am brought here to " hurry you against the law, and beyond the evidence." I hope I have too much regard for justice, and too much respect for my own char

acter, to attempt either; and were I to make such attempt, I am. sure, that in this court, nothing can be carried against the law, and that gentlemen, intelligent and just as you are, are not, by any power, to be hurried beyond the evidence. Though I could well have wished to shun this occasion, I have not felt at liberty to withhold my professional assistance, when it is supposed that I might be in some degree useful, in investigating and discussing the truth, respecting this most extraordinary murder. It has seemed to be a duty, incumbent on me, as on every other citizen, to do my best, and my utmost, to bring to light the perpetrators of this crime. Against the prisoner at the bar, as an individual, I cannot have the slightest prejudice. I would not do him the smallest injury or injustice. But I do not affect to be indifferent to the discovery, and the punishment of this deep guilt. I cheerfully share in the opprobrium, how much soever it may be, which is cast on those who feel and manifest an anxious concern that all who had a part in planning, or a hand in executing this deed of midnight assassination, may be brought to answer for their enormous crime, at the bar of public justice. Gentlemen, it is a most extraordinary case. In some respects, it has hardly a precedent` any where; certainly none in our New England history. This bloody drama exhibited no suddenly excited ungovernable rage. The actors in it were not surprised by any lion-like temptation springing upon their virtue, and overcoming it, before resistance could begin. Nor did they do the deed to glut savage vengeance, or satiate long settled and deadly hate. It was a cool, calculating, money-making murder. It was all "hire and salary, not revenge." It was the weighing of money against life; the counting out of so many pieces of silver against so many ounces of blood.

'An aged man, without an enemy in the world, in his own house, and in his own bed, is made the victim of a butcherly murder, for mere pay. Truly, here is a new lesson for painters and poets. Whoever shall hereafter draw the portrait of murder, if he will show it as it has been exhibited in an example, where such example was last to have been looked for, in the very bosom of our New England society, let him not give it the grim visage of Moloch, the brow knitted by revenge, the face black with settled hate, and the blood-shot eye emitting livid fires of malice. Let him draw, rather, a decorous, smooth-faced, bloodless demon; a picture in repose, rather than in action; not so much an example of human nature, in its depravity, and in its paroxysms of crime, as an infernal nature, a fiend, in the ordinary display and developement of his character.

'The deed was executed with a degree of self-possession and steadiness, equal to the wickedness with which it was planned. The circumstances, now clearly in evidence, spread out the whole scene before us. Deep sleep had fallen on the destined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old man, to whom sleep was sweet, the first sound slumbers of the night held him in their soft but strong embrace. The assassin enters, through the window already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half lighted by the moon; he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber. Of this, he moves the lock, by soft and continued pressure, till it turns on its hinges; and he enters, and beholds his victim before him. The room was uncommonly open to the admission of light. The face of the innocent sleeper was turned from the murderer, and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray locks of his aged temple, showed him where to strike. The fatal blow is given! and the victim passes, without a struggle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose of death! It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work; and he yet plies the dagger, though it was obvious that life had been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the heart, and replaces it again over the wounds of the poiniard! To finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse! he feels it, and ascertains that it beats no longer! It is accomplished. The deed is done. He retreats, retraces his steps to the window, passes out through it as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder no eye has seen him, no ear has heard him. The secret is his own, and it is safe!

'Ah! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner, where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which glances through all disguises, and beholds every thing, as in the splendor of noon,- such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by men. True it is, generally speaking, that "murder will out." True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of heaven, by shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circumstance, connected with the time and place; a thousand ears catch every whisper; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the scene, shedding all their light,

and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze of discovery. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is false to itself; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it does not acknowledge to God nor man. A vulture is devouring it, and it can ask no sympathy or assistance, either from heaven or earth. The secret which the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him; and, like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithsoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. When suspicions, from without, begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstance to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed, there is no refuge from confession but suicide, and suicide is confession.'

ART. XI.-LAW OF BAILMENTS.

Commentaries on the Law of Bailments, with illustrations from the Civil and the Foreign Law. BY JOSEPH STORY, L. L. D. Dane Professor of Law in Harvard University. Cambridge. Hilliard & Brown. 1832.

THE high reputation, which the learned author of the work before us deservedly enjoys, gives ample assurance of its merit. No work from the pen of a jurist and scholar so universally known and distinguished as Mr. Justice Story, can need the help of our feeble authority to recommend, or introduce it to public notice. It is well known, that no man has more rich and various treasures of legal learning, ancient and modern, at his command, or, from his profound and extensive theoretical and practical knowledge, is better qualified, or more able to write an excellent book on any subject pertaining to law or jurisprudence. His decisions on the Circuit, which have been

published in seven volumes, and his opinions delivered on the Bench of the Supreme Court of the United States, for the learning with which they are replete, and their accuracy and solidity, are held in high estimation by the profession not only here, but abroad. They will appear with no disadvantage when compared with the profound and accurate decisions of Lord Eldon or Lord Ellenborough, or the learned and elegant opinions of Lord Stowell. Talents of a superior order, uncommon ardor in the pursuit of whatever is deemed worthy of his attention, and untiring industry, united with his great, diversified, and profound learning, render him an honor to his country. To the labors and influence of such men we must look for the advancement of our jurisprudence. And it is truly gratifying to see one, who is capable of rendering such eminent service to the community, so ready to discharge the debt, which an eminent jurist of former times, has said every man owes to his profession.

It was with great pleasure that we heard of his election, some years ago, to fill the chair of the Dane Professorship of Law in Harvard University. No man is more capable of satisfying the wishes and expectations of the public, in the discharge of the duties of that official station. We congratulate the learned and liberal founder of this Professorship, whose whole mind is intent on the advancement of the jurisprudence of his country, upon the credit gained to it, by so auspicious a commencement. We congratulate the young gentlemen who are so fortunate as to receive their education in the law, at this seminary, upon the inestimable advantages which they may derive from the instructions of so learned, experienced, able, and indefatigable a teacher. We congratulate the profession, and the public, upon the great and happy influence which so favored an institution must have upon the professional education of those who are destined to the bar and the senate.

We have long desired to see a change from the ordinary course and manner of education for the bar. The study of the law is justly said to be one of the noblest pursuits of the human mind,' as it is a science which employs, in its theory, the noblest faculties, and exerts, in its practice, the cardinal virtues of the heart.' And yet it must be acknowledged with regret, that in this country, as well as in that from which we have derived