her crime. The witnesses, one after another, were extinguished literally, and Dalton was brought finally to accept the advocate's view of the case.

Twice in the exordium of his argument does he declaim against the folly of Mrs. Dalton, coupled with a denial of the crime charged in the libel. This is the refrain of his discourse, but always in fresh language, as though the thought itself had never before been used. Thus he commences:

"MR. FOREMAN AND GENTLEMEN: I congratulate you on approaching, at least, the close of this case, so severe and painful to all of us. One effort more of your indulgence I have to ask, and then we shall retire from your presence, satisfied and grateful that everything which candor and patience and intelligence can do for these afflicted suitors has been done.

"It very rarely indeed happens, gentlemen, in the trial of a civil controversy, that both parties have an equal, or rather a vast interest that one of them-in this case the defendant—should be clearly proved to be entitled to your verdict. Unusual as it is, in the view I take of this case, such a one is now on trial.

"To both of these parties it is of supreme importance, in the view that I take of it, that you should find this young wife, erring, indiscreet, imprudent, forgetful of herself, if it be so, but innocent of the last and the greatest crime of a married woman. I say to both parties it is important. I cannot deny, of

course, gentlemen, that her interest in such a result is perhaps the greater of the two. For her, indeed, it is not at all too much to say that everything is staked upon the result. I can not, of course, hope, I can not say, that any verdict which you can render in this case can give her back again the happy and sunny life which seemed opening upon her two years ago; I can not say it, because I do not think that any verdict you can render will ever enable her to recall those weeks of folly, and frivolity, and vanity without a blush, without a tear; I can not desire that it should be so. But, gentlemen, whether these grave and impressive proceedings shall terminate by sending this young wife from your presence with the scarlet letter upon her brow; whether in this, her morning of life, her name shall be thus publicly stricken from the roll of virtuous women, her whole future darkened by dishonor and waylaid by temptation; her companions driven from her side; herself cast out, it may be, upon common society, the sport of libertines, unassisted by public opinion, or sympathy, or self-respect-this certainly rests with you. For her, therefore, I am surely warranted in saying that more than her life is here at stake. Whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, if there be any praise, all the chances that are to be left her in life, for winning and holding these holy, beautiful, and needful things, rest with you.... But is there not another person, gentlemen, interested in these proceedings, with an equal or

at least a supreme interest with the respondent, that you shall be able by your verdict to say that Helen Dalton is not guilty of the crime of adultery, and is not that person her husband? I do not say, gentlemen, that he ought to feel or would feel grateful for a verdict that should acquit her on any ground of doubt or technicality, leaving everybody to suspect her guilty; I do not say that he would feel contented with such a verdict as that, though I say it would be her sacred right that such a verdict should be rendered, if your minds were left in that state. He must acquiesce whether the verdict is satisfactory to him in that particular or not. But, gentlemen, if you can here and now, on this evidence, acquit your consciences and render a verdict that shall assure this husband that a jury of Suffolk, men of honor and spirit, some of them his personal friends, believe that he has been the victim of a cruel and groundless jealousy; that they believe that he has been led by that scandal that circulates about him, and has influenced him everywhere; that he has been made to misconceive the nature and overestimate the extent of the injury his wife has done him; if he could be made to believe and see, as I believe you see and believe, and every other human being sees and believes, that the story by which he has been induced to institute these proceedings is falser than the coinage of hell; if you can thus enable him to see that, without dishonor, he may again take her to his bosom, let me ask you if any other human being can do another so great a kindness as this?"

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And thus Mr. Choate went on through two full days, analyzing the evidence, crushing the adverse witnesses, explaining disagreeable facts, admitting and condemning the conduct of his client, but always denying the extreme guilt charged, and all with a splendor of diction and ingenuity of argument to which the present generation of the habitués of court-houses are strangers.

Never, elsewhere, not even in works of ethics or romance, were the nature and evils of flirtation so set forth and at once condemned, explained, and, in a degree, excused. Near the close of the argument, Mr. Choate said:

"I leave her case, therefore, upon this statement, and respectfully submit that, for both their sakes, you will render a verdict promptly and joyfully in favor of Helen Dalton-for both their sakes. There is a future for them both together, I think; but if that be not so-if it be that this matter has proceeded so far that her husband's affections have been alienated, and that a happy life in her case has become impracticable, yet, for all that, let'there be no divorce. For no levity, no vanity, no indiscretion, let there be a divorce. . . . If they may not be dismissed then, gentlemen, to live again together, for her sake and her parents', sustain her; give her back to self-respect and the assistance of that public opinion which all of us require.”

He closed with a quotation from one of Mrs.

Dalton's letters to her husband: "Wishing you much happiness and peace, with much love, if you will accept it, I remain your wife," and added:

So may she remain until that one of them to whom it is appointed first to die, shall find the peace of the grave!"

As the Dalton case was the outcome of human passions, so in the trial there were constant appeals to the sympathies of the jury and the public.

In the defense, Mr. Choate was not merely the advocate; his nature was such that he defended Mrs. Dalton as though she had been his daughter or sister.

But let it not be imagined that his success lay in the nature and circumstances of the cause. He was equally great upon constitutional questions, in the domain of the common law, the patent law, and in admiralty.

He died in the fullness of his powers, when he was less than sixty years of age, free from any stain on his personal character, and with no just imputation on his professional career. Endowed as he was by nature with wonderful powers for labor, for the acquisition of knowledge, and gifted as he was in all the arts of oratory, he takes rank with the ablest advocates who have honored and