"When the trial was called the prisoner was pale and emaciated, with hopelessness written on every feature. He was accompanied by his half-hoping, half-despairing mother, whose only hope was in a mother's belief of her son's innocence, in the justice of the God she worshiped, and in the noble counsel, who, without hope of fee or reward upon earth, had undertaken the case."

A statement of the trial is here taken, with a few changes, from Barrett's excellent "Life of Lincoln":

"Mr. Lincoln sat quietly by while the large auditory looked on him as though wondering what he could say in defense of one whose guilt they regarded as certain. The examination of the witnesses for the State was begun, and a well-arranged mass of evidence, circumstantial and positive, was introduced, which seemed to impale the prisoner beyond the possibility of extrication. The strongest evidence was that of a man who belonged to the rough element, who swore that at eleven o'clock at night he saw Armstrong strike the deceased on the head, that the moon was shining brightly, and was nearly full, and that its position in the sky was just about that of the sun at ten o'clock in the morning, and that by it he saw Armstrong give the mortal blow.

"The counsel for the defense propounded but few questions, and those of a character which excited no uneasiness on the part of the prosecutor—merely, in most cases, requiring the main witness to be definite as to time and place.

"When the evidence of the prosecution was ended, Lincoln introduced a few witnesses to remove some erroneous impressions in regard to the previous character of his client, who, though somewhat rowdyish, had never been known to commit a vicious act; and to show that a greater degree of ill feeling existed between the accuser and the accused than the accused and the deceased.

"The prosecutor felt that the case was a clear one, and his opening speech was brief and formal. Lincoln arose, while a deathly silence pervaded the vast audience, and in a clear, but moderate tone, began his argument. Slowly and carefully he reviewed the testimony, pointing out the hitherto unobserved discrepancies in the statements of the principal witness. That which had seemed plain and plausible, he made to appear as a serpent's path. The witness had stated that the affair took place at a certain hour in the evening, and that, by the aid of the brightly-shining moon, he saw the prisoner inflict the death blow."

At this point Mr. Lincoln produced an almanac, which showed that at the time referred to by the witness there was no moon at all, and showed it to the jury. He then said that the principal witness had testified to what was absolutely false, and declared his whole story a fabrication. Lincoln had told no one of his discovery, so that it produced quite a sensation.

"An almost instantaneous change seemed to have been wrought in the minds of the auditors, and the verdict of 'not guilty' was at the end of every tongue. But the advocate was not content with this intellectual achievement. His whole being had for months been bound up in this work of gratitude and mercy, and, as the lava of the overcharged crater bursts from its imprisonment, so great thoughts and burning words leaped from the soul of the eloquent Lincoln. He drew a picture of the perjurer, so horrid and ghastly that the accuser could sit under it no longer, but reeled and staggered from the court-room, while the audience fancied they could see the brand upon his brow. Then, in words of thrilling pathos, Lincoln appealed to the jurors, as fathers of sons who might become fatherless, and as husbands of wives who might be widowed, to yield to no previous impressions, no ill-founded prejudice, but to do his client justice. As he alluded to the debt of gratitude he owed the boy's dead father and his living widowed mother, tears were seen to fall from many eyes unused to weep. It was near night when he concluded by saying that if justice was done,—as he believed it would be,—before the sun should set it would shine upon his client a free man.

"The jury retired, and the court adjourned for the day. Half an hour had not elapsed when a messenger announced that the jury had returned to their seats. All repaired immediately to the court-house, and while the prisoner was being brought from the jail, the court-room was filled to overflowing with citizens of the town. When the prisoner and his mother entered, silence reigned as completely as though the house were empty. The foreman of the jury, in answer to the usual inquiry from the court, delivered the verdict of 'Not guilty.'

"The widow dropped into the arms of her son, who lifted her up, and told her to look upon him as before, free and innocent. Then with the words, 'Where is Mr. Lincoln?' he rushed across the room, and grasped the hand of his deliverer, while his heart was too full for utterance. Lincoln turned his eyes toward the west, where the sun still lingered in view, and then, turning to the youth, said, 'It is not yet sundown, and you are free.' An eye-witness says: 'I confess that my cheeks were not wholly unwet by tears as I turned from the affecting scene. As I cast a glance behind, I saw Abraham Lincoln obeying the divine injunction, by comforting the widowed and the fatherless.'"