"AND JUDGMENT IS TURNED AWAY BACKWARD."
By F. C. Gilbert
It is becoming more and more apparent that judgment and justice are becoming a lost art in many of the courts of the land. An experience recently occurred in Boston which will forcibly illustrate this. One of the workers of the Jewish Mission was engaged in colporteur work in one of the suburbs of the city. He was doing work for the Master, and helping souls along the way. Having called at a number of houses in that vicinity, he entered into the house of a fine Christian lady, one forenoon, at about 11:40 a.m., and showed her the book he was selling. He spoke kind words to the lady, who was somewhat cast down, and she felt that God had helped her thru this young servant of His. She gave him an order for the book, and then watched him from a window within the next five minutes, as she thought she wanted to look at a young man like that who loved Jesus, and was spending his time doing good to others. He stayed at her house about twenty minutes, and she watched him as he talked to a neighbor for the next five minutes. About that time he had promised a fellow worker to meet him in a certain part of that quarter, and so he hurried up street to meet his appointment. As he almost reached his destination he moderated his pace, when he heard some one behind him remark, "He is the one." Immediately after he felt the grip of a hand on his shoulder, and quickly another young man came up, and the two led him away about two blocks, when he was accused of stealing a diamond ring, and a gold brooch. The young man protested, but it was of no avail. Soon an ambulance came, and he was taken to the station-house. Two hundred dollars bail was demanded to let him out, and he was to appear before the court the following morning. Before going to court, the lady to whom he sold the book was asked if she would go to court to prove an alibi, for the theft was committed at the very time this brother was selling a book to this lady, and the difference between the two places was about one mile. She gladly consented to go, as she felt he had helped her so much that it seemed cruel to think of such an idea. The prosecution had six witnesses, aside from the lady who had the things stolen; they were made up of brewery workers, and people of that class. Not one of the six identified him as the one who actually committed the larceny, only they saw a young man run; he had a light overcoat, a black hat, had black hair, and was about the same build as was this young man. The damaging evidence was given by a teamster who said that he chased the culprit up and down several blocks, while the defendant ran across the lot; yet, he said, he never took his eyes off the man. Certainly this is a wonderful vision. How one person could run across a lot while another was obliged to go up and down several blocks, with houses all around, and yet not take his eyes off from the person is a marvel. Still the court asked no questions, but believed it. As the teamster was driving along to catch the culprit, the brother, unfortunately, was running to meet his appointment. Seeing the light coat, etc., he concluded he was the one; and on this ground only he had him taken and arrested. No person saw his face nor his features; it was a case of circumstance, and unfortunate at that. The lady was called for the defense. She had a Bible in her hand, to show the judge the texts he had read to her which helped her so much, and also to show the guarantee slip he gave her with his own signature, at the very time when the theft was committed. But the court did not care to see either. She told her story honestly, candidly, frankly. The court asked her how long it would take to travel the distance from her house to where the larceny was committed, and she told the judge a good walker could travel it in fifteen minutes. The defendant took the stand, and told his story. He told how he was going from house to house in helping the people, and getting the good literature into their hands. It was a simple story, plainly told, tho the court did try to mix him up. When the hearing was over, the judge pronounced him guilty. It certainly seemed marvelous, one could hardly rely upon his hearing. Then the judge wanted to know what should be done with the case. I was called upon to speak. I told what I knew of the young man, how he had trained for a Christian nurse, and was a good, Christian young man, and was endeavoring to do all the good he could to the people. We told the judge it was an unfortunate circumstance, and was a case of mistaken identity. The clerk of the court was called upon to give what information he could, and he gave a splendid testimony in behalf of the young man. Everything that was said in his favor was very true and very good, while on the other hand the best they had was circumstantial, and they themselves admitted it. Despite these conditions, the judge fined the brother forty dollars. It was really a stunning blow. The case was appealed to the superior court. The brother was let out on bail. After the trial the prosecutor came to several of our workers, and told them that she did not believe he was guilty. She did not swear that he was, and, in fact, she did not know. But she was obliged to come to testify, which she did. On leaving the court-room one of the officers who made the arrest said that being an officer he did not care to say very much to be quoted. But he remarked that in all the years of his experience as a policeman he had never heard such an unjust decision. He told that when the thieves are caught in the very act or with the goods on their persons they are never fined over ten dollars for petty larceny. Here, with all the government's evidence circumstantial, no one identifying the person, and so many good, Christian people testifying in his favor, to render such a decision seemed inexplicable to him. Surely "judgment is turned away backward." Let us all pray that God's will may be wrought out in this matter, and may we learn a lesson to give the truth to the people while the opportunities are as favorable as they are to-day. F. C. GILBERT.
107 Staniford St., Boston, Mass.