Part 6 (1/2)

”You have no right to take me,” said Warren; ”you have no warrant.”

”No; but I can keep you here till I send for one, which I shall certainly do, unless you consent to go willingly.”

And Warren, conscious of his own innocence in this respect, and never thinking of the difficulty of proving it, went to a magistrate's office with the clerk at once.

The clerk entered his complaint, and, besides swearing to the offer of the notes, swore that he had seen him, for several days past, in the company of a notorious gambler.

Warren was stunned, overwhelmed, by this declaration. No representation that he made was believed. His pockets were searched, and all the money he had, except some small change, was found to be counterfeit. A commitment was at once made out against him, and he was sent to jail, to await his trial on the charge of pa.s.sing counterfeit money.

This is one of the methods by which professional gamblers ”pluck young pigeons.” No young man is safe who allows himself to play with cards, or to handle dice.

Rodney believed that Warren had told him the truth, and fellows.h.i.+p in misfortune drew the hearts of the duped man and the wronged boy towards each other; for though both had been very much to blame, yet duped and wronged they had been by knaves more cunning and wicked than themselves.

They had many serious conversations together, for both had been piously instructed, and Warren, who seemed truly penitent for his wanderings, as he sat by the bed-side of the sick boy, encouraged him in his resolutions to lead a different life,--to seek the forgiveness and grace of G.o.d through a merciful Redeemer. Seldom has a poor prisoner received sweeter sympathy, or more salutary counsel, than was given to Rodney within the walls of that old Arch-street jail, by his fellow-prisoner.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

”Rodney,” said Warren to him one day,--it was the first day that he had left his cot,--”I shall soon leave this place; I have written to my father, and he will be here at the trial with such evidences in my favor, from the whole course of my life, as cannot fail to secure me an acquittal. I feel no doubt that this stain upon my character will be wiped away. And I believe that I shall have reason to thank G.o.d, as long as I live, for having permitted this trouble. It is a very hard lesson, but I trust it will be a salutary one. Since I have been here, I have prayed earnestly to G.o.d for the pardon of my sins. I have resolved, in sincerity of soul, to consecrate my affections and my life to his service. I have had a severe struggle; but I believe, I _feel_, that G.o.d has heard my prayers, forgiven my iniquities, and the last few days in this jail have been the happiest of my life. I feel that I hate the sins of which my heart has been so full, and that I love G.o.d even for the severe providences that have checked my course of impenitence. I feel like a new man; and if I am not deceiving myself,--and I pray that I may not be,--I have experienced that regeneration of heart of which I have so often heard, but which I could never before comprehend.

”I hope that you, too, will try and seek the Saviour, pray to him for forgiveness, and beg the guidance of His Holy Spirit for your future life. If we both do this sincerely, we shall have reason forever to bless G.o.d for the way in which he has led us.”

”Pray for me,” said Rodney; while tears rolled down his pale cheeks. ”I want to be a Christian, and I hope that G.o.d will have mercy upon me, and guide me, for the future, in the right path.”

A few days after, Warren was called into court to take his trial; and, to Rodney's great delight,--for he had learned to love him like a brother,--he heard from one of the nurses that he had been honorably acquitted.

During the same week, the case of Rodney was called up, and he was conducted by an officer to the court-house.

CHAPTER XI.

THE TRIAL.

Justice was now to be administered, and Rodney was brought into the crowded court-room for trial. The officer led him to the prisoner's narrow dock, an enclosed bench, at each end of which sat a constable, with a long staff in his hand. There were five or six other prisoners sitting in the dock with him. Next to him was a woman, her garments ragged, her hair matted, and her face red and bloated. Next to her sat a squalid negro, who seemed totally indifferent to the scenes that were pa.s.sing around him.

On the other side of him was a young man, apparently about twenty years old, of thin, spare form, with a red flush at intervals coloring his cheek, and a hollow cough that sounded like an echo from the grave. He was evidently in a deep consumption, and had been already several months in prison. And he leaned his head upon the railing, as though he would hide himself from every eye. He had been tried a few days before, for having been a.s.sociated with others in a burglary, and found guilty, and he was now present to hear his sentence.

After the formal opening of the court, this young man was the first called upon, and, with trembling limbs, he rose to hear the sentence of the judge. After some remarks upon the enormity of his crime, and the clear evidence upon which he had been convicted, the judge sentenced him to five years' imprisonment in the penitentiary. When those words, _five years_, reached him, he dropped back upon the seat, as if struck with a bullet, and then raising his face to the judge, with an expression of profound anguish, said, ”Half the time would be more than enough, your honor; I shall be in the grave before one year is past.”

The case of the negro-man was immediately called up, but Rodney heard nothing of it. He hid his face in his hands, and wept. A sense of his terrible position flashed upon him, and he could not keep back his tears, or stifle his sobs. He wept aloud, and _felt_, though he might not see, that all eyes were turned upon him. His whole frame shook with the anguish of his soul.

Presently a hand was laid upon his, and a head was bent over the bar near him, and a voice addressed him kindly: ”Be calm, my boy; there is no good in crying; who is your counsel?”

Rodney looked up, and saw a young man, well dressed, and with an affable and winning countenance, standing before him. His face looked kind and benevolent, at least in Rodney's eyes, for he had spoken to him gently and encouragingly.

He replied to his question, ”I have no counsel, sir; I have no money.”

”Well, I will try what I can do for you,” said the young lawyer. ”Come out here, and sit by me, and tell me what you are here for.”

He led him out of the disgraceful dock, gave him a seat directly in front of the jury, sat down beside him, and asked him to tell him the truth about all the circ.u.mstances that led to his imprisonment and trial. Rodney told him truly all that happened from the time of his running away to his arrest. He told him, too, who he was, and who were his relatives in the neighborhood of Philadelphia. He had never spoken of these before.