_Bill Withers_, sworn, said: “I was coming along about sundown, Saturday, September 2d, by the prisoner’s field, and my brother Jack was with me and we seen a man toting off something heavy on his back and allowed it was a nigger stealing corn; we couldn’t see distinct; next we made out that it was one man carrying another; and the way it hung, so kind of limp, we judged it was somebody that was drunk; and by the man’s walk we said it was Parson Silas, and we judged he had found Sam Cooper drunk in the road, which he was always trying to reform him, and was toting him out of danger.” It made the people shiver to think of poor old Uncle Silas toting off the diseased down to the place in his tobacker field where the dog dug up the body, but there warn’t much sympathy around amongst the faces, and I heard one cuss say “’Tis the coldest blooded work I ever struck, lugging a murdered man around like that, and going to bury him like a animal, and him a preacher at that.” Tom he went on thinking, and never took no notice; so our lawyer took the witness and done the best he could, and it was plenty poor enough. Then Jack Withers he come on the stand and told the same tale, just like Bill done. And after him comes Brace Dunlap, and he was looking very mournful, and most crying; and there was a rustle and a stir all around, and everybody got ready to listen, and lots of the women folks said, “Poor cretur, poor cretur,” and you could see a many of them wiping their eyes. _Brace Dunlap_, sworn, said: “I was in considerable trouble a long time about my poor brother, but I reckoned things warn’t near so bad as he made out, and I couldn’t make myself believe anybody would have the heart to hurt a poor harmless cretur like that”—[by jings, I was sure I seen Tom give a kind of a faint little start, and then look disappointed again]—“and you know I _could’t_ think a preacher would hurt him—it warn’t natural to think such an onlikely thing—so I never paid much attention, and now I sha’n’t ever, ever forgive myself; for if I had a done different, my poor brother would be with me this day, and not laying yonder murdered, and him so harmless.” He kind of broke down there and choked up, and waited to get his voice; and people all around said the most pitiful things, and women cried; and it was very still in there, and solemn, and old Uncle Silas, poor thing, he give a groan right out so everybody heard him. Then Brace he went on, “Saturday, September 2d, he didn’t come home to supper. By-and-by I got a little uneasy, and one of my niggers went over to this prisoner’s place, but come back and said he warn’t there. So I got uneasier and uneasier, and couldn’t rest. I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep; and turned out, away late in the night, and went wandering over to this prisoner’s place and all around about there a good while, hoping I would run across my poor brother, and never knowing he was out of his