and the determined force, apparent even in the perfect quiescence of
his attitude.

Leonard Axworthy Ward was arraigned for the wilful murder of Francis
Axworthy, and asked whether he pleaded Guilty or Not Guilty.

His voice was earnest, distinct, and firm, and his eyes were raised
upwards, as though he were making the plea of 'Not Guilty' not to man
alone, but to the Judge of all the earth.

The officer of the court informed him of his right to challenge any
of the jury, as they were called over by name; and as each came to be
sworn, he looked full and steadily at each face, more than one of
which was known to him by sight, as if he were committing his cause
into their hands. He declined to challenge; and then crossing his
arms on his breast, cast down his eyes, and thus retained them
through the greater part of the trial.

The jurymen were then sworn in, and charged with the issue; and the
counsel for the prosecution opened the case, speaking more as if in
pity than indignation, as he sketched the history, which it was his
painful duty to establish. He described how Mr. Axworthy, having
spent the more active years of his life in foreign trade, had finally
returned to pass his old age among his relatives; and had taken to
assist him in his business a great-nephew, and latterly another youth
in the same degree of relation, the son of his late niece--the
prisoner, who on leaving school had been taken into his uncle's
office, lodged in the house, and became one of the family. It would,
however, be shown by witnesses that the situation had been extremely
irksome to the young man; and that he had not been in it many months