_Mr. Bradley._ "And offered it once and withdrew it." _Mr. Merrick._ "Yes, sir, offered it and then withdrew it. Did you find anything at the close of it that you did not like? Why didn't you put that record in evidence, and let us have it here? We were not going to quarrel about it; we would like to know all we can about the dark secrets of those chambers whose doors are closed, but from which light enough creeps to make us anxious to look within. We only know enough to make us curious; but that is enough to make us _feel_. You were going to show, too, that nobody prevented access to the President on the part of those who waited to get a pardon. Why didn't you do it? Gentlemen of the jury, I should have been glad to have heard that proof. They have brought these charges into the case and I must meet them as part of the case. I should have been glad to have heard that proof. Who of you who was in the city of Washington, will ever forget that fatal day when the tolling of the bells reminded you of the sad fact that the hour had come when those people were to be hung? Your honor (referring to Justice Wylie, who was at the time sitting beside Judge Fisher on the bench), in your praise be it said, raised your judicial hand to prevent that murder, but it was too weak. The storm beat against your arm, and it fell powerless in the tempest. You remember that day, gentlemen. Twenty-four hours for preparation. The echoes of the announcement of impending death, scarcely dying away before the tramp of the approaching guard was heard leading to the gallows. Priest, friend, philanthropist, and clergyman went to the Executive Mansion to get access to the President, to implore for that poor woman three days respite to prepare her soul to meet her God, but got no access. The heart-broken child--the poor daughter--went there crazed, and, stretched upon the steps that lead to the Executive chamber, she raised her hands in agony and prayed to every one that came, 'O God! let me have access, that I may ask for but one day for my poor mother--just one day.' Did she get there? No. And yet, says the counsel, there was no one to prevent access being had. Why don't you prove it? O, God! if such a thing could have been proved, how would I not have rejoiced in that fact; for when reflecting upon that sad, unfortunate, wretched hour in the history of my country--an hour when I feel she was so much degraded, I could weep until the paper be worn away with the continual dropping of my tears. Who stood between her and the seat of mercy? Has conscience lashed the chief of the Bureau of Military Justice? [Gen. Joseph Holt.] Does memory haunt the Secretary of War? Or is it true that one who stood between her and Executive clemency now sleeps in the dark waters of the Hudson, while another died by his own violent hand in Kansas?