EDWARD EGGLESTON (1837-1902)

Of the new western school of writers of which Mark Twain and Bret Harte were pioneers, Edward Eggleston was the third member both in order of time and in importance. He was the first to introduce prominently the middle border states into literature. Indiana, at the time

of his birth in 1837 was new and raw, and the "Hoosiers," like the early Missouri "Pikes," were in the more remote districts exceedingly crude and grotesque. The father of Eggleston, a Virginian, a graduate of William and Mary, an early pioneer who had settled as a lawyer in Vevay, was a brilliant man, and, though he died when his son was but nine years of age, undoubtedly was the force that turned the boy ultimately toward literature. When he was thirteen Eggleston went to live with his grandfather in the then crude regions of Decatur County where he first saw many of the picturesque types that later he was to use in his books. Later, after he had chosen the ministry for his profession and had been given a four weeks' circuit in the Ohio River bottoms, he saw much more. His health breaking down, he was transferred to Minnesota, held pastorates in St. Paul and other places, settled at length in Chicago as the editor of the Little Corporal, a paper later merged in St. Nicholas, and finally was called to Brooklyn as a pastor, resigning after five years to devote himself wholly to literature.

Eggleston first attracted attention with his story first published in the staid columns of Hearth and Home, The Hoosier Schoolmaster, 1871, a Dickens-like tale laid in the crude regions of early Indiana. Its humor, its strange types, and its undoubted moral atmosphere, gave it a circle of readers wider even than that which had greeted the first stories of Harte. He followed it with others even better: notably The End of the World, 1871, which treated of the Millerite delusion of the mid century, The Circuit Rider, 1874, and The Graysons, 1888, which had as one of its characters Abraham Lincoln. Undoubtedly there is much of crudeness in this early work, but parts of it are exceedingly valuable. The End of the World and The Circuit Rider are realistic studies, by one to the manner born, of an era in our national life that has vanished forever.' The influence of Eggleston in turning the period toward localized fiction dealing with unusual types, was undoubtedly considerable.

LIGHT IN A DARK PLACE1

Judge Watkins's austere face assumed a yet more severe expression; for though pity never interfered with justice in his nature, it often rendered the old man un5 happy, and therefore more than usually irascible.

The people who had seats in the courtroom were, for the most part, too wise in their generation to vacate them during the noon recess. Jake Hogan clambered down from his uncomfortable windowroost for a little while, and Bob McCord took a plunge into the grateful fresh air, but both got back in time to secure their 10 old points of observation. The lawyers came back early, and long before the judge returned, the ruddy-faced Magill was seated behind his little desk, facing the crowd and pretending to write. He 15 was ill at ease; the heart of the man had gone out to Tom. He never for a moment doubted that Tom killed Lockwood, but then a sneak like Lockwood richly desarved it,' in Magill's estimation. 20 the horrible, watched the process. The

1 Copyright by the Century Company, 1888.

There was a painful pause after the judge had taken his seat and ordered the prisoner brought in. It was like a wait before a funeral service, but rendered ten times more distressing by the element of suspense. The judge's quill pen could be heard scratching on the paper as he noted points for his charge to the jury. To Hiram Mason the whole trial was unendurable. The law had the aspect of a relentless boa-constrictor, slowly winding itself about Tom, while all these spectators, with merely a curious interest in

deadly creature had now to make but one more coil, and then, in its cruel and de

liberate fashion, it would proceed to tighten its twists until the poor boy should be done to death. Barbara and the mother were entwined by this fate as well, while Hiram had not a little finger of help for them. He watched Lincoln as he took his seat in moody silence. Why had the lawyer not done anything to help Tom? Any other lawyer with a desperate case would have had a stack of law-books in front of him, as a sort of dam against the flood. But Lincoln had neither law-books nor so much as a scrap of paper.

apparently embarrassed. He had deteriorated in appearance lately. His patentleather shoes were bright as ever, his trousers were trimly held down by straps, 5 his hair was well kept in place by bear's oil or what was sold for bear's oil, but there was a nervousness in his expression and carriage that gave him the air of a man who had been drinking to excess. Tom 10 looked at him with defiance, but Dave was standing at the right of the judge, while the prisoner's dock was on the left, and the witness did not regard Tom at all, but told his story with clearness. Something of the bold assurance which he displayed at the inquest was lacking. His coarse face twitched and quivered, and this appeared to annoy him; he sought to hide it by an affectation of nonchalance, as he rested his weight now on one foot and now on the other.

The prosecuting attorney, with a taste for climaxes, reserved his chief witness 15 to the last. Even now he was not ready to call Sovine. He would add one more stone to the pyramid of presumptive proof before he capped it all with certainty. Markham was therefore put up to identify 20 the old pistol which he had found in Tom's room. Lincoln again waived cross-examination. Blackman felt certain that he himself could have done better. He mentally constructed the questions that should 25 have been put to the deputy sheriff. Was the pistol hot when you found it? Did it smell of powder? Did the family make any objection to your search? - Even if the judge had ruled out such questions the 30 jury would have heard the questions, and a question often has weight in spite of rulings from the bench. The prosecuting attorney began to feel sure of his own case; he had come to his last witness and 35 his great stroke.

'Call David Sovine,' he said, wiping his brow and looking relieved.

'David Sovine! David Sovine! David Sovine!' cried the sheriff in due and an- 40 cient form, though David sat almost within whispering distance of him. The witness stood up.

'Howld up your roight hand,' said the clerk.

Then when Dave's right hand was up Magill rattled off the form of the oath in the most approved and clerkly style, only adding to its effect by the mild brogue of his pronunciation.

'Do sol'm swear 't yull tell th' truth, th' 'ole truth, en nuthin' b' th' truth, s' yilpye God,' said the clerk, without once pausing for breath.

'Do you know the prisoner?' asked the prosecutor, with a motion of his head toward the dock.

'Yes, well enough;' but in saying this Dave did not look toward Tom, but out of the window.

'You've played cards with him, have n't you?'

'Yes.'

'Tell his Honor and the jury when and where you played with him.'

'We played one night last July, in Wooden & Snyder's store.'

'Who proposed to Tom to play with you?'

'George Lockwood. He hollered up the stove-pipe for Tom to come down an' take a game or two with me.'

'What did you win that night from Tom?'

'Thirteen dollars, an' his hat an' coat an' boots, an' his han'ke'chi'f an' knife.' 'Who, if anybody, lent him the money 45 to get back his things which you had won?'

George Lockwood.'

Here the counsel paused a moment, laid down a memorandum he had been using, 50 and looked about his table until he found another; then he resumed his questions. 'Tell the jury whether you were at the Timber Creek camp-meeting on the 9th of August.'

Sovine ducked his head and dropped his 55 hand, and the solemnity was over.

Dave, who was evidently not accustomed to stand before such a crowd, was

'Yes; I was.'

'What did you see there? Tell about the shooting.'

Dave told the story, with a little prompt

seemed excited and nervous, and who visibly paled a little as his eyes sought to escape from the lawyer's gaze.

'You said you were with Lockwood 5 just before the shooting?' the counsel asked.

ing in the way of questions from the law-
yer, substantially as he had told it at the
coroner's inquest. He related his part-
ing from Lockwood, Tom's appearance on
the scene, Tom's threatening speech, Lock-
wood's entreaty that Tom would not shoot
him, and then Tom's shooting. In mak-
ing these statements Dave looked at the
stairway in the corner of the courtroom
with an air of entire indifference, and he 10 he was shot?'
even made one or two efforts to yawn, as
though the case was a rather dull affair
to him.

'How far away from Grayson and Lockwood were you when the shooting 15 took place?' asked the prosecutor.

'Twenty foot or more.'

'What did Tom shoot with?' A pistol.'

What kind of a pistol?'

" One of the ole-fashion' sort - flintlock, weth a ruther long barrel.'

The prosecuting lawyer now beckoned to the sheriff, who handed down to him, from off his high desk, Tom's pistol.

'Tell the jury whether this looks like the pistol.'

'Yes.' Dave was all alert and answered promptly.

'Were you not pretty close to him when

'No, I was n't,' said Dave, his suspicions excited by this mode of attack. It appeared that the lawyer, for some reason, wanted to make him confess to having been nearer to the scene and perhaps implicated, and he therefore resolved to fight off.

'Are you sure you were as much as ten feet away?'

20 'I was more than twenty,' said Dave, huskily.

25

"'T was just such a one as that. I can't say it was that, but it was hung to the stock like that, an' about as long in 30 the barrel.'

'What did Grayson do when he had shot George, and what did you do?'

'You parted from him as a friend?' 'Yes, of course.'

By the time Tom came up you'd far away? Be careful

- how

Tom run off as fast as his feet could carry him, an' I went up towards George, 35 got who'd fell over. He was dead ag'inst I now.' could get there. Then purty soon the 'I've told you twiste. More than crowd come a-runnin' up to see what the twenty feet.' fracas was.'

After bringing out some further details 40 Allen turned to his opponent with an air of confidence and said:

'You can have the witness, Mr. Lincoln.'

There was a brief pause, during which 45 the jurymen changed their positions on the hard seats, making a little rustle as they took their right legs from off their left and hung their left legs over their right knees, or vice versa. In making 50 these changes they looked inquiringly at one another, and it was clear that their minds were so well made up that even a judge's charge in favor of the prisoner, if such a thing had been conceivable, would 55 have gone for nothing. Lincoln at length rose slowly from his chair, and stood awhile in silence, regarding Sovine, who

You might have been mistaken about its being Tom then?'

'No, I was n't.'

Did you know it was Tom before he fired?'

Tubby shore, I did.'

'What time of night was it?'

'Long towards 10, I sh'd think.'
It might have been II?'
'No, 't wus n't later 'n about 10.'
was said doggedly.

'Nor before 9?'

This

No, 't wus nigh onto 10, I said.' And the witness showed some irritation, and spoke louder than before.

How far away were you from the pulpit and meeting place?

"Twixt a half a mile an' a mile.'

Not over a mile?'

'No, skiercely a mile.'

'But don't you think it might have been a little less than half a mile?'

No, it's nigh onto a mile. I did n't measure it, but it's a mighty big threequarters.'

5

pishly, disposed to dash at any gap that
offered a possible way of escape.
'What sort of trees were there on the
ground?'

Beech.'

Beech-leaves are pretty thick in August?' asked Lincoln.

'Ye-es, ruther,' gasped the witness, seeing a new pitfall yawning just ahead of

The witness answered combatively, and in this mood he made a better impression than he did on his direct examination. The prosecuting attorney looked relieved. Tom listened with an attention painful 10 him. to see, his eyes moving anxiously from Lincoln to Dave as he wondered what point in Dave's armor the lawyer could be driving at. He saw plainly that his salvation was staked on some last throw. 15 'You didn't have any candle in your hand, did you, at any time during the evening?'

'No!' said Dave, positively. For some reason this question disconcerted him and 20 awakened his suspicion. What should we have a candle for?' he added.

'Did either George Lockwood or Tom have a candle?'

'No, of course not! What'd they have 25 candles for?'

Where were the lights on the campground?'

'Closte by the preachers' tent.'

And yet light enough from the moon came through these thick beech-trees to let you know Tom Grayson?' 'Yes.'

6

And you could see him shoot?' 'Yes.'

And you full twenty feet away?' 'Well, about that; nearly twenty, anyhow.' Dave shifted his weight to his right foot.

And you pretend to say to this court that by the moonlight that you got through the beech-trees in August you could even see that it was a pistol that Tom had?'

'Ye-es.' Dave now, stood on his left foot.

'And you could see what kind of a pistol it was?' This was said with a little

'More than three-quarters of a mile 30 laugh very exasperating to the witness. away from the place where the murder took place?'

Anyway as much as three-quarters,' said Dave, who began to wish that he could modify his previous statement of 35 the distance.

'How far away were you from Lockwood when the murder took place?' 'Twenty feet.'

"You said "or more" awhile ago.' 'Well, 't wus n't no less, p'r'aps,' said Dave, showing signs of worry. You don't think I measured it, do yeh?'

There were no lights nearer than three-quarters of a mile?'

'No,' said the witness, the cold perspiration beading on his face as he saw Lincoln's trap opening to receive him.

40

45

Yes, I could,' answered Dave, with dogged resolution not to be faced down.

And just how the barrel was hung to the stock?' There was a positive sneer in Lincoln's voice now.

'Yes.' This was spoken feebly.

And you twenty feet or more away?' 'I've got awful good eyes, an' I know what I see,' whined the witness, apologetically.

Here Lincoln paused and looked at Sovine, whose extreme distress was only made the more apparent by his feeble endeavor to conceal his agitation. The counsel, after regarding his uneasy victim for a quarter of a minute, thrust his hand into the tail-pocket of his blue coat, and after a little needless fumbling drew forth a small pamphlet in green covers. He turned the leaves of this with extreme deliberation, while the court-room was utterly silent. The members of the bar had as by general consent put their chairs down on all-fours, and were intently watching the struggle between the counsel and the witness. The sallow-faced judge had stopped the scratching of his quill, and had lowered his spectacles on his nose,

that he might study the distressed face of the tormented Sovine. Mrs. Grayson's hands were on her lap, palms downward; her eyes were fixed on Abra'm, and her mouth was half open, as though she were going to speak.

Barbara found it hard to keep her seat, she was so eager for Lincoln to go on, and Tom was leaning forward breath

means of moonlight shining through the trees beech-trees in full leaf. This is a pretty hard story. How much light does even a full moon shed in a beech 5 woods like that on the Union campground? Not enough to see your way by, as everybody knows who has had to stumble through such woods.' Lincoln paused here, that the words he had spoken

lessly in the dock; his throat felt dry, and 10 might have time to produce their due ef

he choked when he tried to swallow; it
seemed to him that he would smother with
the beating of his heart. But it was
worth while to turn away from these
more interested parties to look for a 15
moment at the ruddy face of Bob McCord,
which was puckered to a kind of focus
with an expression that was customary
with him in a moment of supreme inter-
est, as when he was drawing a sure bead 23
on a bear or deer. It was worth while to
regard Rachel Albaugh, who had lifted the
veil from her face radiant with interest.
Lincoln appeared to be the only perfectly
deliberate person in the room. He 25
seemed disposed to protract the situation
as long as possible. He held his victim
on the rack and he let him suffer. He
would turn a leaf or two in his pamphlet
and then look up at the demoralized wit- 30
ness, as though to fathom the depth of
his torture and to measure the result. At
last he fixed his thumb firmly at a certain
place on a page and turned his eyes to the
judge.

'But,

fect on the judge, and especially on the
slower wits of some of the jury. Mean-
while he turned the leaves of his pam-
phlet. Then he began once more.
may it please the court, before proceeding
with the witness I would like to have the
jury look at the almanac which I hold in
my hand.
They will here see that on the
night of the 9th of last August, when this
extraordinary witness' with a sneer at
Dave, who had sunk down on a chair in
exhaustion — saw the shape of a pistol at
twenty feet away, at 10 o'clock, by moon-
light, the moon did not rise until half-
past 1 in the morning.'

Sovine had been gasping like a fish newly taken from the water while Lincoln uttered these words, and he now began to mutter something.

'You may have a chance to explain when the jury get done looking at the almanac,' said the lawyer to him. For the present you'd better keep silence.'

There was a rustle of excitement in the 35 court-room, but at a word from the judge the sheriff's gavel fell and all was still. Lincoln walked slowly toward the jurybox and gave the almanac to the foreman, an intelligent farmer. Countrymen in that day were used to consulting almanacs, and one group after another of the jurymen satisfied themselves that on the night of the 9th, that is, on the morning of the 10th, the moon came up at half-past I o'clock. When all had examined the page, the counsel recovered his little book. 'Will you let me look at it?' asked the judge.

Now, your Honor,' he said to the court, 'this witness,' with a half-contemptuous gesture of his awkward left hand toward Sovine, has sworn over and over that he recognized the accused as the 40 person who shot George Lockwood, near the Union camp-meeting on the night of the 9th of last August, and that he, the witness, was standing at the time twenty feet or more away, while the scene of the 45 shooting was nearly a mile distant from the torches inside the circle of tents. So remarkably sharp are this witness's eyes that he even saw what kind of pistol the prisoner held in his hands, and how the 50 barrel was hung to the stock, and he is able to identify this pistol of Grayson's as precisely like and probably the identical weapon.' Here Lincoln paused and scrutinized Sovine. All these details he saw 55 and observed in the brief space of time preceding the fatal shot.- saw and observed them at 10 o'clock at night, by

'Certainly, your Honor;' and the little witness was handed up to the judge, who Iwith habitual caution looked it all over, outside and in, even examining the titlepage to make sure that the book was genuine and belonged to the current year. Then he took note on a slip of paper of the moon's rising on the night of August 9 and 10, and handed back the almanac to Lincoln, who slowly laid it face down