Here also was the aged father of Thomas Duncan, the only friend whom the young man had in all that vast assembly.

Though his face was stern and immovable, yet the quivering of the lips and the nervous trembling of the wrinkled hands told too plainly that he too was suffering beyond expression in the sorrow that had been wrought by the boy who in his early years had been his pride and joy.
When the judge had taken his seat, and the door opened to admit the four youthful prisoners, all eyes were turned upon them.

Slowly and with downcast eyes they entered the chamber of justice, and amid an awe-like stillness that pervaded the room, took their seats in the prisoners' dock.

In spite of all that had transpired, and with the full conviction that these youthful offenders richly merited whatever judgment they were to receive, there was not one in that entire audience, whose heart did not throb with sympathy for the aged parents and relatives of the accused, and even for the culprits themselves in this, the dreadful hour of their humiliation and grief.
The trial was not a protracted one.

A jury was speedily empaneled, the low, stern tones of the judge were heard in timely admonition, and the prosecution was commenced.