So what was I to do, sir?
I am guilty, but do not condemn;
I _took_--oh, was it _stealing_?--
The bread to give to them."
Every man in the court-room--
Graybeard and thoughtless youth--
Knew, as he looked upon her,
That the prisoner spake the truth.
Out from their pockets came kerchiefs,
Out from their eyes sprang tears,
And out from the old faded wallets
Treasures hoarded for years.
The judge's face was a study,
The strangest you ever saw,
As he cleared his throat and murmured
_Something_ about the _law_.
For one so learned in such matters,
So wise in dealing with men,
He seemed on a simple question
Sorely puzzled just then.
But no one blamed him, or wondered,
When at last these words they heard,
"The sentence of this young prisoner
Is for the present deferred."
And no one blamed him, or wondered,
When he went to her and smiled,
And tenderly led from the court-room,
Himself, the "guilty" child.
ANONYMOUS.
THE FEMALE CONVICT.
She shrank from all, and her silent mood
Made her wish only for solitude:
Her eye sought the ground, as it could not brook,
For innermost shame, on another's to look;
And the cheerings of comfort fell on her ear
Like deadliest words, that were curses to hear!--
She still was young, and she had been fair;
But weather-stains, hunger, toil, and care,
That frost and fever that wear the heart,
Had made the colors of youth depart
From the sallow cheek, save over it came
The burning flush of the spirit's shame.
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