wood's amendments. On an occasion when one of these had just been presented, Mr. Hardin arose and said: "Mr. Speaker, I consider it one of God's mercies that the gentleman from Warren was not upon the earth in the days of our Saviour. If he had been, he would, infallibly, have moved an amendment to the Lord's prayer, which, if adopted, might have led to the damnation of a world."

Aaron Harding, of Danville, was a man of decided talent. He was for two terms a member of Congress. He was a good lawyer, and of most exemplary private character. As an orator he was earnest, and at times not only solemn, but sepulchrally so in manner. He and Hardin were employed on opposite sides of a slander suit, in Green county, having its origin in defendant's charge that plaintiff had stolen turkeys. The defendant justified.

Aaron was more funereal than usual, his speech being characterized by ghostly seriousness. In closing the argument, Mr. Hardin said he had encountered the best lawyers of Kentucky for a generation past; he had, in New Orleans and Mississippi, met the strongest legal talent of the South; in the Supreme Court at Washington he had encountered lawyers of national reputation, and he had, on all those occasions, survived the conflict. But as to whether he would outlive the present struggle he felt uncertain, as it was the first time he had ever had to contend with an attorney from the other world. In the same vein is the following: A wealthy landlord had sued out a distress warrant for two dollars and twenty-five cents, balance of rent owing by a poor widow, and had levied on and sold her last horse and last milch cow for that amount. She employed Mr. Hardin, who sued for five hundred dollars damages for excessive levy. In closing his argument he said: "It is fortunate, gentlemen of the jury, very fortunate, for mankind that this grasping landlord did not live in the days of Herod. If he had, I do not doubt but that he would have sued out a distress warrant against Joseph and Mary, and levied on the ass that bore them to Egypt, and thus have caused the infant Saviour to fall into the hands of that bloody tetrarch."*

Mr. Hardin was fond of the classics. At school he had studied Greek and Latin, though what proficiency he had made in either is not known, and matters little. Mr. Thomas F. Marshall once asserted that Hardin had acquired his familiarity with the classics through English translations. Assuming that he only knew them

"How did the case result?" inquired the author of the person relating the above. "Oh," said he, "it took the jury considerably less than five minutes to bring in a verdict for the widow for five hundred dollars. "

through that medium, his attainments are not thereby discounted. Emerson and the hyper-critical Kentuckian evidently held different views of this subject:

"The respectable and sometimes excellent translations of Bohn's Library," quoth the Concord philosopher, "have done for literature what railroads have done for internal intercourse. I do not hesitate to read all the books I have named, and all good books in translations. What is really best in any book is translatable-any real insight or broad human sentiment. Nay, I observe that, in our Bible, and other books of lofty moral tone, it seems easy and inevitable to render the rythm and music of the original into phrases of equal melody. The Italians have a fling at translators-i traditori traduttori: but I thank them. I rarely read any Greek, Latin, German, Italian, sometimes not a French book, in the original, which I can procure in a good version. I like to be beholden to the great metropolitan English speech, the sea which receives tributaries from every region under heaven. I should as soon think of swimming across Charles river when I wish to go to Boston, as of reading all of my books in originals, when I have them. rendered for me in my mother tongue."

That Mr. Hardin had assimilated and made his own the great bulk of ancient literature is avouched, not only by his constant use of it, but still more by his remarkable ability to make his references to it interesting to the most unlettered hearer. He once defended a man charged with the murder of his own slave-death having resulted from cruel treatment. The defense set up was that death resulted from natural causes. The prosecution called a young physician as a witness, who had seen the deceased a week before death, and he detailed the result of the examination then made. The witness was a handsome young fellow, of good address, and impressed the jury favorably. To parry this effect, Mr. Hardin made a cross-examination, not specially relevant to the case. At length, when the medical man, in replying to a question, inadvertently said the deceased "rode away on a female side-saddle," he was allowed to "stand by." In dealing with this witness in his speech to the jury, Mr. Hardin created no little amusement by expatiating on his good looks and handsome dress. His object in this was easily fathomed. Continuing the topic, "There was once at Athens," he said, "as we learn from Ovid, a youth named Narcissus, distinguished for having the most remarkable beauty ever known. But he had long been unconscious of it, until one day he caught sight of his own reflection in the waters of a pool-whereupon he fell violently in love with himself. This strange infatuation.

clung to him until he became sick and ultimately pined away and died. I am expecting, on the arrival of every stage, to receive a letter informing me that Tom Marshall has perished from the same cause, and (turning to the witness) I advise you, young man, to beware of a like fate."

There are but few chapters in this volume that do not contain anecdote or incident illustrating his humorous traits. Not only was his reputation in this respect established during his career, but it was universally recognized and acknowledged. The comic almanac-maker of his day made Mr. Hardin the unwilling vehicle for communicating jokes rather broader than he ever indulged in the most unreserved moments. But Ben Hardin's name gave them currency. In “Flush Times of Alabama and Mississippi," the author (Mr. Baldwin) has Cave Burton, one of his characters, to quote Mr. Hardin's advice, on an occasion when Cave addressed the jury in the "Whistler" breach of promise case. "Says Ben, 'Cave, tap them gently and milk them of their brine easy. Let the pathetics sink into 'em like a spring

shower.""

See Appendix, Note D.

CHAPTER XXII.

TH

THE WILKINSON TRIAL.

HE most noted trial in which Mr. Hardin took part was that of the Wilkinsons-one more celebrated on account of the array

of counsel than any that ever occurred in Kentucky. In 1838 Edward Wilkinson was a prominent lawyer of Mississippi, where he had been circuit judge and held other important posts. He had addressed and was engaged to be married to Miss Eliza Crozier, an accomplished young lady of Bardstown, belonging to one of its oldest and best families. Her mother was sister to Colonel Hinds, distinguished in Kentucky annals for his military services. The wedding was to have occurred in December, 1838. It was a social event of no small proportions to Nelson county society, and its approach aroused general expectation. Shortly in advance of the appointed day Judge Wilkinson reached Louisville, accompanied by his brother, Dr. Wilkinson, and his friend Mr. Murdaugh, a young lawyer, both also of Mississippi. The interim at Louisville was devoted to preparation. Dr. Wilkinson had engaged with one Redding, a merchant tailor, for a suit of clothes. On the Saturday preceding the Tuesday for which the wedding was fixed, Dr. Wilkinson called alone at his tailor's and received the coat, ordering the rest of his outfit sent to his hotel. On meeting his brother and Murdaugh, they disapproved the fitting and style of the coat. The party then adjourned to Redding's shop, where, after some bad-humored discussion, the coat was returned to its manufacturer. Redding, irritated by the discontent of his customer, and attributing it to Judge Wilkinson, indulged a disrespectful remark toward the latter, which caused him to assault the tailor with an iron poker. The affray that ensued was quickly transferred from the shop to the street, where it was shortly arrested. Bowie-knives were displayed by the Mississippians, but not used, nor was any one injured in the melee. The combatants separated, Wilkinson and his friends returning to their hotel, while Redding went in quest of an officer.

About supper time Redding went to the hotel (the Galt House) under pretext of obtaining the names of the parties, in order to pro

cure a writ for their arrest. As a number of his special friends happened to congregate about this time in the hotel bar-room, there was strong ground for the theory, afterward successfully maintained, that a conspiracy had been formed to do violence to the Wilkinson party. Judge Wilkinson, casually entering the bar-room, was assaulted by Redding with violent and insulting language. Retreating to his room, he soon returned, accompanied by his brother and Murdaugh. On this, Redding returned to the bar-room, and accosted Murdaugh in an offensive manner, accusing him of having drawn a bowie-knife on him at the previous difficulty. This Murdaugh denied with an epithet, and drew a spanish dirk-knife, telling Redding to stand off, swearing he would kill the first man who laid hands on him. One Meeks, at this point, seized the wrist of his knife hand and struck him with a cowhide, saying, "You are the dd little rascal." Several persons then rushed up, and one Rothwell struck Murdaugh over the head with a hickory club. or stick, inflicting a painful wound. Murdaugh, however, gave Meeks his undivided attention, while the latter was industrious with the cowhide. Murdaugh changed his knife to his left hand, and, thus using it, caused Meeks to relinquish his right and retreat. With his right hand free, he made short work of Meeks, who died immediately from his wounds. The witnesses attributed one of his wounds to Judge Wilkinson. Some one gave Judge Wilkinson a stab; but the chief punishment of the Southerners fell upon Dr. Wilkinson, who seems to have given least offense. He was knocked down and beaten until almost senseless by Holmes and others. Rothwell quit Murdaugh and attacked the Doctor, or, at least, in the confusion, appeared to do so, whereupon Judge Wilkinson fatally cut Rothwell, and inflicted a slight wound on Holmes. The Wilkinson party then made good their retreat, and the affair ended. Meeks and Rothwell lost their lives. The other wounds inflicted on the various combatants were not serious in their results. Rothwell was brother-in-law to Redding. Meeks was unacquainted with Redding, and why he foolishly took part was never explained. The Wilkinsons and Murdaugh were arrested and committed to jail. Excitement ran high, and apprehensions of lynching existed. A remark of Judge Wilkinson in the outset of the fatal tragedy perhaps enraged the populace more than the bloodshed. When Redding first. abusively accosted him, he retorted that he would not quarrel or fight with "a man of his profession." The relative number, weight, and influence of the artisan class in a city like Louisville has undergone