counsel. Ketchum, who, as prosecutor, was entitled to the opening and
closing arguments, rose and stated that, as the days were short, and
it was growing late, he would waive his right of opening, and reserve
what he had to say to the time when his brother Tippit had concluded.
To this arrangement Tippit strenuously objected, insisting that the
State had made out so poor a case, that he hardly knew what to reply
to, and that in all fairness the counsel for the State ought to
enlighten him. The court, however, decided, that although it was
a strange thing for a lawyer to desire to be excused from making a
speech, yet it was a course he felt much obliged to Mr. Ketchum
for adopting, and hoped that he would not revenge himself for the
abstinence by putting two speeches into one, at the conclusion.

Smiles and applauding whispers among the audience rewarded the Justice
for this brilliant display of wit.

Hereupon Mr. Tippit rose and addressed the court. He begun by hinting
at the embarrassment he felt in not having the advantage, to use his
own language, of what his brother Ketchum intended to say. For his own
part, he had carefully considered the law and evidence, and could not
find the shadow of a pretext for detaining the prisoner. He then went
on to speak of the prisoner himself, his age, his harmless life, and
the excellent character he sustained. All this, he argued, went to
show the improbability of his having uttered the language considered
most objectionable. He contended that although he would most
cheerfully admit that the prisoner had said something in the
conference-room, it was impossible to determine accurately what
that something was; that if in this state of things the court not be
satisfied what the words were exactly, it was as if no words at all
had been uttered, and there were none to be passed upon. But what were