In the ancient city of Hohokus once stood a monument of colossal size and
impressive dignity. It was erected by public subscription to the memory of
a man whose only distinction consisted in a single term of service as a
juror in a famous murder trial, the details of which have not come down to
us. This occupied the court and held public attention for many weeks,
being bitterly contested by both prosecution and defense. When at last it
was given to the jury by the judge in the most celebrated charge that had
ever been delivered from the bench, a ballot was taken at once. The jury
stood eleven for acquittal to one for conviction. And so it stood at every
ballot of the more than fifty that were taken during the fortnight that
the jury was locked up for deliberation. Moreover, the dissenting juror
would not argue the matter; he would listen with patient attention while
his eleven indignant opponents thundered their opinions into his ears,
even when they supported them with threats of personal violence; but not a
word would he say. At last a disagreement was formally entered, the jury
discharged and the obstinate juror chased from the city by the maddened
populace. Despairing of success in another trial and privately admitting
his belief in the prisoner's innocence, the public prosecutor moved for
his release, which the judge ordered with remarks plainly implying his own
belief that the wrong man had been tried.

Years afterward the accused person died confessing his guilt, and a little
later one of the jurors who had been sworn to try the case admitted that
he had attended the trial on the first day only, having been personated
during the rest of the proceedings by a twin brother, the obstinate
member, who was a deaf-mute.

The monument to this eminent public servant was overthrown and destroyed
by an earthquake in the year 2342.