The jury was right.
It was a tale which the author of it may possibly have completed satisfactorily, and if he really had that good fortune I would like to know what the ending was.

Any ordinary man will find that the story's strength is in its middle, and that there is apparently no way to transfer it to the close, where of course it ought to be.

In substance the storiette was as follows: John Brown, aged thirty-one, good, gentle, bashful, timid, lived in a quiet village in Missouri.

He was superintendent of the Presbyterian Sunday-school.

It was but a humble distinction; still, it was his only official one, and he was modestly proud of it and was devoted to its work and its interests.