"I have also had the great pleasure of seeing Ristori and of being presented to her behind the scenes. Her acting is a revelation. I could not understand one word of her language, but her voice, her exquisite articulation, her expressive countenance and gestures, told the story eloquently to my uninstructed eyes and ears. How I longed for you! All pleasure must be, in your absence, poisoned for me.
"I have agreed to accept the defence of an unhappy Episcopal minister who was arrested in an omnibus for picking a lady's pocket! He was about to leave the stage when a voice arrested him: 'Stop that man! He has stolen my pocket-book.' The pocket-book was found upon him. It is by no means impossible that the thief may have dropped it in my client's pocket. So although he is miserably poor and can pay me nothing for my trouble, my sympathies are enlisted, and I shall do my best for him. Think of it! An Episcopal minister!"
Later:—
"My wretched client is bailed at last. I am more and more persuaded of his innocence, but whether I can make it appear in the trial is another thing. The evidence is almost conclusive against him. The case is so bad I can hardly expect the judge to discharge him. I can acquit him, however, before a jury."
"I have refused to be further connected in the case of the Episcopal minister, for reasons which it is not proper I should disclose even to you. He is now committed to the protecting care of a lawyer whose defence will be insanity!
"Some of the papers made haste to announce that 'the Rebel Pryor has been superseded in the criminal case of — by other lawyers,' and it was suspected the publication had emanated from the prisoner's friends to escape an imaginary prejudice against a 'Rebel' advocate. The truth is, I learned facts from my client which made me withdraw from the case—facts in writing. I indignantly refused any further connection with —. His friends wrote me imploring me to stand by him, and it is suspected that when they found me obstinate, they instigated the newspaper assertion! If so, they have behaved with the basest ingratitude, for but for me—services which nobody but myself could have rendered—he would long ago have been in State's Prison. I voluntarily, and against their remonstrance, renounced his case—and for other reasons than an absence of reward. What my reasons are neither you nor any other person shall ever know. They are in writing, however, and in my possession. Of course they know I will be silent unless I am forced to act otherwise."
The name of this unhappy clergyman is withheld lest the innocent may suffer. He was accused of being an accomplished thief, and of concealing in his left hand a small pair of scissors, which he manipulated with such skill that he cut into the pockets (then worn in the ample skirts of women's dresses) and cleverly extracted purses and wallets. His case was postponed from month to month—and finally he was allowed to leave the city for his home at the South, where he soon after died—the presumption being, I imagine, that he was insane.
The close of the year 1866 brought no new hopes for the sorely distressed little family in Petersburg. By the closest economy, the most diligent work,—teaching by day, and sewing at night,—the wolf was kept from the door, and the school bills of the boys paid. Small sums came occasionally from the heartsick worker in New York,—heart-sick because of his own impaired strength and health and the loss of many days from pain and illness, and also his keen anxieties about the future of his native state.
But at Christmas we were all refreshed by a visit from him, and improved the hour by entreating that he should abandon the plan of living in New York. We were most averse to it. There was small hope of our ever being able to exist in that city of costly living and high house-rents. My husband forbore to grieve me, at this sacred time, by opposing me. After he returned to New York, he wrote me:—