Friday, September 20th.
Nothing of importance has transpired to throw light upon the all-engrossing topic. A slight suspicion was awakened in the mind of Mr. Willard by the increasing demand for clothes by Mr. Colby, and Hon. Mr. Marshall, the Attorney General, specially retained, gave orders that no more be sent him. Upon a re-examination, of every article of apparel in his room and wardrobe at the Hall, he has found nothing to justify such a suspicion.
But he is ever on the alert, and determined, if possible, to ferret out all the iniquitous proceedings. The daily papers are full of the most exaggerated accounts of these transactions, report of which has spread the excitement through the country.
Persons may be seen at all hours of the day walking past Lee Hall, wondering what room the prisoners occupied before their arrest, where the keeper remains, and making inquiries on these and a thousand other points of those of the neighbors and inhabitants whom they happen to meet.
Tuesday, November 5th.
Half past seven o'clock, A. M. The all-important day has at length arrived. Even at this early hour carriage after carriage from the adjoining towns rolls by toward the court House. Men and women are seen hurrying in the same direction, all eager to gain admission to the court room. For many years, no case has excited such deep and universal interest. The vast estate involved—the great respect for the family of Mr. Mansfield—the daring plot of Joseph and Colby—the horrible cruelty of the former toward his sister, driving her from the home of her childhood, have raised the excitement to the highest pitch. My hand trembles, and my heart goes "pit-a-pat" as I think of being present at the trial. The Doctor has kindly procured a permit for me to be there as a companion of Lucy, whose heart, poor girl, is ready to faint within her. I shall endeavor to take notes that I may give you and father an account of an American trial.
Thursday, November 7th.
On Tuesday morning, at half past eight, the Doctor came for me to go to the court. My hands were numb from excitement, and for a moment I felt inclined to remain at home; but summoning all my resolution, I stepped into the carriage, when Cæsar drove to Mr. Mansfield's, took in Lucy, who looked more as if she were to be tried as a criminal, than as if she were about to inherit an estate worth a million of dollars.
When the Doctor assisted us from the carriage, and I witnessed the immense crowd standing around the ponderous doors of the court-room, my limbs trembled beneath me, and I clung convulsively to my husband's arm.
"All filled up two hours ago!"—"No room!"—"You can't get in!" were shouted by men and boys on every side. Even the constables standing with a pole at the foot of the stairs told us, we could not proceed. But the Doctor paid no sort of heed to all this. With the air and bearing of a Lenox, he walked majestically on, merely bowing to the officer and pronouncing the word "witness;" when he stood one side to allow us to pass and to get through the crowd as best we could. I can hardly tell you how we were able to make our way up the stone steps to the room above. Sometimes the Doctor was recognized. At others, Lucy's pale face caused the eager crowd to stand yet a little closer and to allow us to press along.