Mountain life -- Tennessee -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Her charming infantile presence, as she stood by the judge’s desk among
the grave, bearded men, drawing the jury with her dimpled hands,
won upon the crowd. There were laughing glances interchanged, and no
dissenting opinion as to the prettiness and “peartness” of “Sister
Eudory.” She was evidently under the impression that she was performing
some great public feat, as she again thrust in her hand, caught up
another scroll, and smiled radiantly into the face of the judge, who was
visibly embarrassed by the blandishments of the small coquette. He hardly
knew how to return her gaze, and instead he glanced casually out of the
window close by.
The defense frequently availed themselves of their right of peremptory
challenge. This was a matter of preconcerted detail with the jury list
before them. Whenever it was possible they challenged “for cause”
until the _venire_ was exhausted. Then jurors were summoned from the
by-standers. It was not exactly the entertainment for which the crowd
had been waiting, but they found a certain interest in seeing Mink, no
longer indifferent, lean forward, and with acrimonious eagerness whisper
into the counsel’s ear presumable defamations of the juror, who looked on
helplessly and with an avidity of curiosity as to what was about to be
publicly urged against him. Over and again the sheriff made incursions
into the streets, summoning talesmen wherever he could lay his hands on
suitable persons. Men of undoubted integrity and sobriety were scarce at
the moment, for the good citizens of Shaftesville, averse to the duty,
and hearing that he was abroad on this mission, disappeared as if the
earth had swallowed them. Plunging into the stores, the baffled official
would encounter only the grins of the few callow clerks—proprietor and
customers having alike fled. Once he pursued the flying coat-tails and
the soles of the nimble feet of one of the solid men of the town around a
corner, never coming nearer. It was a time-honored custom to respond thus
to one’s country’s call, and engendered no bitterness in the sheriff’s
breast. Perhaps he considered this saltatory exercise one of the official
duties to which he had been dedicated.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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