The Beggar’s Plea: How an Old Man’s Tears Won a Judge’s Mercy

John Burner, an old, gray-haired man, was arraigned at the courthouse in this town for the crime of grand larceny—horse stealing. He pleaded guilty and presented himself to the jury in a brief and touching address.

He said: "Gentlemen, I am a very old man, and my race is nearly run. This is the first time in my life I have ever been before a jury. I have never even been a witness in a magistrate's court. I was born in 1816, and have been about working and an honest man until now. I am a stranger to every man in this home, except his honor who sits on that bench. He has known me for nine years, and he will tell you that I have been an honest man and a good citizen. The jury looks like a set of honest and intelligent men, and I wish you to deal with me the best you can."

"I read in the papers that the prison at Frankfort is on a awful place—that it is so crowded one can scarcely live there. From the accounts of that place, I suppose I could not live there long. You see I am old and feeble, and I ask you to do the best you can for me. Gentlemen, if I could have got work I could have supported my family and not been here. But I want to tell you—I am a very poor man, and have to work to live. Well, last year the times were very hard, indeed, and I could not get work much of my time. I ran a mechanic and I went to Clarksville, Fairview and other places, but could not get any work. The times were very hard, as you all know, and but few men had money to pay for labor. I travelled around till I spent all that I had but it bed and chair. I was tired and out of heart, and my family calling for food and clothing."

"I hear then I could get work in North Logan, and I sold my kit of tools to get my family moved up there. I paid $75 for my tools in Louisville, and had to sell them low. After paying for moving that left. I got a place for my family for a little while and started again for work. I tried hard to find it, but could not. I went back to my family broken down in spirit, thinking I would have to starve or beg. Gentlemen, my little boy, almost six years old, got in my lap, and put his little arms around my neck and asked me if the good Lord would let us survive. I love my family as well as any man, and could not think of starving."

The prisoner was overcome with emotion, and, laying down his weapons, he pleaded for no light verdict as the jury could give him. The case was one of a very severe nature. The prisoner told his story without reservation. Age and care had whitened his locks and furrowed his brow. He had seen better days, but he was now a broken man. Thenry, always, the judge and the spectators were touched by the humble recital of the supplicant prisoner. The jury gave him two years in the penitentiary, and the judge, jury and lawyers then signed a petition to the governor for his pardon.