Rolfe smiled at Earth's remark, and proceeded in a dignified and lucid manner to open his case, and bring forward to the notice of the jury, those points in the evidence which he thought would justly entitle his client to heavy damages, and upon which he intended to rest his claim. Having done so, in as brief a manner as practicable, and not seeing what possible ground his adversary could occupy, for the law and evidence were both against him, he was seated, and the opposing counsel, who was a genuine son of the west, and whom Rolfe had not before observed, rose in reply: “Gentlemen of the Jury—The tremendous occasion which has called us together is one of the very darkest peril to my client. “The poet has beautifully said, ‘loud roars the dreadful thunder.’ But, gentlemen, to be squeezed inside of a gaol, is not the thing that it is cracked up to be. The lightning's flash may blaze entirely athwart the heavens; but, gentlemen, to lie upon a dirt floor, and drink cold water, is an awful catastrophe. The poet has said, gentlemen, ‘all that glitters is not gold,’ and I ask you, if when this man came at my client like a roaring lion, and would have used him up in two minutes, if he was wrong just to take his eyes into his hands, and squeeze 'em for a short time. Gentlemen, I know there is not one of you so lost to feeling,—so lost to every thing that an honourable man owes himself,—but instead of letting them go, after squeezing them a short time, but would have put them into his breeches pocket, and have walked off, and let the fellow go about his business. Yes, gentlemen of the jury, I see it in you, there is not one of you but would have jumped upon him, and have galloped him around this Court-House a half a dozen times.—A good for nothing scoundrel, to pretend to come at my client in such a vig'rous manner. But, gentlemen of the jury, the poet has mighty prettily said, ‘the day of retribution is at hand,’—and, gentlemen, the counsel who is opposed to me, will try very hard to convince you that this is a sublime wound,—that my client ought to pay a tall, a very tall price for it; but the grapes are sour—they hang mighty high, I see it in your eyes. Gentlemen, you know all about the way in which a knife can be made to dig into one, when a man is in earnest.—Now, I ask you, if this is a sublime wound? Do you think my client was in earnest when he struck him? You all have seen it. It is not more than three inches long, and about two inches deep, and he has pretended to bring such a case as that into this Court-House. The time of the Court, gentlemen, ought not to be taken up with such trifling matters, and I beg your pardon for having detained you as long as I have. Gentlemen, I know your verdict,—I know what it will be,—I am satisfied;—I will close these few remarks, with a quotation—a very, very apt quotation to this case:—‘A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod.’—Yes, mark me, gentlemen:—