“_Merits_”—repeated Trueman, seeming to reflect again—“No, your honour; I can’t say that there has.” Now, this was as bold a falsehood as was ever uttered; but Trueman reconciled the answer to his conscience by choosing to consider that the conversation he had heard had been on the _demerits_ of the accused. “I do not see, gentlemen, that you can challenge for cause,” observed his Honour—“unless you have further facts.” “Perhaps we have, sir,” answered Williams. “You were saying, Mr. Trueman, that you met David Johnson as you were going from the inn to the court-house—Did I understand you correctly?” “Just so, ’Squire. I had been having a long talk with Peter Titus”—one of Williams’s most active and confidential agents—“when Johnson came up. Johnson says, says he, ‘a pleasant day, gentlemen—I’m glad to see you both out; for the faces of old friends is getting scarce——’” “I see no objection to the juror’s being received,” Williams carelessly remarked; satisfied that Titus had not neglected his duty in that long talk. “Yes, he is as good a juror as Duke’s can furnish,” observed Timms, perfectly sure Johnson had turned to account the advantage of having the last word. Trueman was accordingly admitted to the box, as the second man of the twelve. The two managers of this cause were both right. Titus _had_ crammed his old acquaintance Trueman with all that was circulating to the prejudice of the prisoner; expressing surprise when he had said all he had to say, at hearing that his friend was on the pannel. “Well,” said Titus, as Johnson approached, “if questioned, you’ll remember I said I didn’t dream of your being a juryman—but, just as like as not, you’ll not be drawn for the case at all.” On the other hand, Johnson was quite eloquent and pathetic in giving his old acquaintance the history of Mary Monson’s case, whom he pronounced “a most injured and parsecuted woman.” Trueman, a shrewd, managing fellow in general, fancied himself just as impartial and fit to try the cause, after he had heard the stories of the two men, as he had ever been; but in this he was mistaken. It requires an unusually clear head, exceedingly high principles, and a great knowledge of men, to maintain perfect impartiality in these cases; and certainly Trueman was not the man to boast of all these rare qualities. In general, the last word tells; but it sometimes happens that first impressions become difficult to eradicate. Such was the fact in the present instance; Trueman taking his seat in the jury-box with an exceedingly strong bias against the accused.