the unmistakable stamp of his genius. When Cicero spoke in the forum at Rome, his hearers went away applauding his oratory, but when Demosthenes addressed the Athenians in one of his stirring philippics, the cry of his auditors was, "let us march against Philip. Without derogating from their great abilities, it seems that his rivals are best remembered because of an imposing personality, while Mr. Hardin himself survives because he wrote his own thoughts indelibly in the hearts and memories of his generation.

The testimony of a number of persons has been collected and examined as to his character and ability as a lawyer. Many of them expressing the same ideas have unconsciously employed the same language. There are none who dispute his pre-eminence at the bar. Many speak of him as a sound lawyer, a powerful and skillful advocate, as one of the readiest and best educated of elementary lawyers, as the best circuit court practitioner of his day. Some call him the Colossus of the Kentucky bar; others, the Goliah of prosecution; another, "the last of the race of giants."

He once remarked of himself, "I reckon there is not a man more intimate with the operation of the circuit courts of Kentucky than I am, and there will not be for fifty years to come." This was not a mere boast, nor intended as such, but the simple statement of a plain fact. He was in truth a legal philosopher, deeply imbued with the wisdom and learning of the law. To him the law was a moral science governed by principles as unerring as any in the moral world, and of as easy and certain application. He was, in all respects, an original man, whose character can not be measured by ordinary standards. His talents were so dissimilar to those of his distinguished rivals and colleagues that contrasts and comparisons are vain. While there is no one found with whom to compare him, yet it may be that the rugged virility of his intellect bears more than a fancied resemblance to that of the late Jere Black, and that both in many of their characteristics, and especially in a certain mental and moral manhood, are of the class whose best type was the great Scotch philosopherThomas Carlyle.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Ө

NE who from boyhood had known Mr. Hardin well and heard him argue some of the celebrated cases in which he was at different times engaged, remarked that he had never entered a courthouse without thinking of him, and involuntarily, though vainly, casting the eye about to see who might compare with him. During his life few were the court-houses he entered where he was not a central figure. When not engaged as counsel in a trial, he usually listened at its progress, especially if he felt any interest in the matter in contest, the parties, or their attorneys. Instances occurred where he took part for the first time after the testimony was concluded.

When he felt no interest in court proceedings, he frequently engaged the bar-loungers in conversation. He quickly gathered an attentive and admiring coterie on such occasions. Narrative and anecdote were the staple of his talk, and now and then the merriment he produced, attracted reproof from the court. Feeling himself culpable at such times, he would apologize, with assurances, courteous and voluble, that no disturbance or disrespect was intended.

Mr. Hardin's skill and success were the envy of the younger members of the bar. With the latter it was an ever-recurring question as to how successfully to deal with "Old Ben." They discussed it among themselves and devised many plans of action, but like the mice who resolved to bell the cat, the difficulty was to execute them. A couple of young lawyers discussing this subject on one occasion concluded that he might be overcome or subjugated by launching all the weapons of invective and sarcasm upon him-in short, by giving him a sound abusing. The idea was, that if assailed by all young lawyers in this way, it would intimidate him and render him less formidable. One of the young conspirators (now one of the first lawyers of the State) excused himself on account of ancient alliances of friendship between his own and Mr. Hardin's family-but he encouraged his young friend to try the execution of the project. Shortly after, a case came up where T

and Mr. Hardin were opposed. Without any

special relevancy, the former began a personal tirade, of which the latter was the object. Mr. Hardin listened at first with surprise, but at last with evident amusement. In reply, he inquired what he had done to the young gentleman to so incense him. He was surprised at being so vigorously assailed, because unconscious of having offended. He finally concluded that T supposed that he (H.) envied himenvied his lawyership and oratorical ability. Assuming an air of child-like simplicity, he assured T that he did not envy him. He turned to the court and earnestly protested that he did not and never had envied T. He addressed the bar with pathetic seriousness, and hoped they would not do him the injustice of suspecting him of envy or jealousy. By this time everybody was in a titter, and poor T was cured of attacking "Old Ben."

A very large number of readers throughout Kentucky and Middle Tennessee have heard of the chief character in the following story: Leonard Jones, better known as Live-Forever Jones, was an eccentric character who had notoriety in Mr. Hardin's day, and afterward, because of his religious creed, professing to believe that by leading a life of absolute sinlessness, his earthly existence would be prolonged forever. He had not originated this doctrine, but was the convert of one Miller, who had proclaimed it before him, and possibly had the honor of being its discoverer. But, finally, the latter died, just as all sinful mortals inevitably must. Among his last requests, one was,

that Jones should preach his funeral sermon. "It was the sorest task I ever performed," said he, alluding to it.

Jones was without special calling, dabbling to some extent in politics, preaching occasionally, but delighting above all things in a lawsuit. By asserting pretended claims to lands in various parts of the country, he managed to embroil himself in numerous controversies. He wore his hair and beard uncut, assumed an austerity of manner, and affected a peculiarity of speech that gave him some countenance with the ignorant, but Mr. Hardin regarded him as an impostor, who was more knave than fool. He was sometimes engaged in law-suits to which Jones was a party, but almost always adversely to him, and on such occasions he invariably handled him without gloves. Jones prosecuted an appeal from an adverse decision in one of these cases to the Court of Appeals, and Mr. Hardin attended in person to argue it. Jones was also present. Meeting Mr. Hardin: "Friend Benjamin," says he, "I know thou art a severe man in thy speech, but I wish to give thee liberty to be as severe with me as thou pleasest, for I verily believe it will be good for my soul." Mr. Hardin replied that he would do his best to help him in that way. The case was called, and the argument begun. After disposing of the facts and law, Mr. Hardin began his task of ameliorating the condition of Live-Forever's soul. He cut and slashed and tore and macerated his victim, who, now and then, emitted a resigned groan. To such immoderate length did he go, that the court, at the instance of opposing counsel, finally interrupted him with the admonition that he was exceeding all the bounds of legitimate debate. "If your honors please, I am well aware of that," was the response, "but what I have been saying has been with the entire approval of the appellant himself, who is now present-isn't that so, Mr. Jones?" (turning to the latter).

"Yea, yea, friend Benjamin, yea, yea, but still thou art very severe."

Live-Forever Jones survived the late civil war, and, after a life of privation, died in extreme old age.*

A skillful lawyer always carefully explores the popular pulse where public sentiment promises to be a factor in the conviction or acquittal of his client. That Mr. Hardin neglected no precaution of this kind the following incident will serve to illustrate: Although Cy Hultz was always his client, Mr. Hardin regarded him as one of the worst of men. Between the laws of the land and Cy there was an irrepres

He died in the city hospital at Louisville about 1870, and was buried in the edge of Jefferson county, by the side of his brother, Laban Jones, known as the "bleating preacher."

sible conflict.

His misdoings had become notorious, and he had

At last,

escaped the clutches of the law so often that public sentiment finally rallied and demanded that something be done with him. Hultz added another to his catalogue of "crimes, misdemeanors, and breaches of the penal laws," by shooting one of his fellow-citizens. Death did not ensue, but an outraged public demanded that the law should inflict the most condign punishment on the offender. Mr. Hardin was again retained for the defense. "He did not give bail," said Mr. Hardin, "and I did not want him to do so, preferring that he should remain in jail. For awhile, every time he was brought out I would walk with him. I found that there was a strong prejudice against him, rendering it necessary that I should get a continuAfter lying in jail for two winters, and becoming frost-bitten, he was brought out in the spring, and as we passed along I could hear the people saying, 'Poor Cy, he has suffered enough, God knows -and besides, he fought the British, too,' and similar expressions of commiseration. Said I, 'Cy, now is the time; I shall clear you now.' The trial came on, and the jury, after five minutes deliberation, declared him not guilty.""

ance.

or

It is not to be denied that in his arguments to the jury, Mr. Hardin sometimes, as the lawyers phrase it, "got out of the record, in other words, stated facts not mentioned by the witnesses, and based arguments upon them. These outside facts he would manage to get before the jury in such shape that that tribunal could not be induced to disregard them. In vain might opposing counsel object, and equally in vain would the court admonish the jury to be governed by the evidence only, for so thoroughly would belief be fixed that the jury were morally incapable of resisting their force. The following case is a happy illustration of Mr. Hardin's peculiar ability in the direction indicated.

The prosecution against Brashear for disturbance of religious worship had its origin in peculiar circumstances. The defendant was an elderly bachelor of considerable estate, residing not far from West Point. He was not a religious man, but was generous in aiding public enterprises, and had been one of the largest contributors to the erection of a church not far from where he resided. On one occasion, Rev. Moses Akin, a protestant minister-who was at different times a member of more than one denomination in his day-commenced a series of meetings in that church, with a view of reviving the work of the Lord. Akin was famous as a revivalist. He was of giant pro