“No, I'm too busy this afternoon. I'll let the rascal go.”
"But, my dear sir- -” the Judge began.
“Don't ‘my dear sir' me! I hate a sneak.”

"I'm a respectable man,” the Judge broke out. “Do you know the name of Judge--"

[Dcrisively.] “You may be respectable, as you call it, but you can't carry off my umbrella, all the same. I'm not giving silk umbrellas as premiums for respectability. And as for your friend the Judge, he's probably some peanut politician who'd pick up an umbrella himself if he got a fair chance. My advice to you, old man, is to drop the subject, and skip out of this—lively !"

Customers and waiters were looking on, grinning and chuckling. The Judge saw that public opinion was against him. And he could not deny that the "cold facts” were against him. He saw that there was a question of making an afternoon of it-or of instant Aiglit.

“Sir” [haughtily], “I will give you my card.”

This sobered the group for an instant, and they looked on respectfully as the Judge drew forth a bit of pasteboard, the prima facie proof of respectability.

But fate was against him. As the Judge drew forth the only card the pocket-book contained, a single glance showed him that he was lost. It read:

“Raoul von Leczynski, Hair-dresser." It was the address-card given him by his wife that morning. He hastily replaced it into his pocket-book, and looked blankly at his accusers.

A roar of laughter burst from the crowd, and the owner of the umbrella sneered.

“Bluff didn't go, did it, old Skeezicks? Come-clear out, quick!"

There may be heroic souls who would have risen to the occasion, but the Judge did not. His temper was at boiling point, and he saw he must punch the fellow's head or leave at once. He iurned and fled.

When court was again in session, the Judge—who was a little late-proceeded to deliver his charge to the jury. It was a forcible plea against being misled by appearances, a warning against precipitation in judgment. Though the form of impartiality was maintained, the spirit of mercy inspired every sentence.

The prisoner listened with amazement. Some subtle magnetism assured him that the Judge favored an acquittal.

The lawyers, the jury, the lookers-on, felt the turn of the tide. The Judge instructed the jury that previous good character was entitled to much weight as against circumstantial evidence; and, - though his words were beyond exception, every soul glowed in the fervor of his eloquence.

“Not guilty !" said the foreman, when the jury returned from a short absence. The life of an innocent man was saved.

Only an umbrella had been between him and a sentence of death.



WAS busy with my ploughing

When Love passed by.
“Come," she cried, "forsake thy drudging;
Life's delights are few and grudging;
What hath man of all his striving,
All his planning and contriving,

Here beneath the sky ?
When the grave opes to receive him
Wealth and wit and honors leave him

Love endures for aye !"
But I answered: “I am ploughing.

When with straight and even furrow

All the field is covered through,
I will follow."

Love passed by.
I was busy with my sowing

When Love passed by.

“Come," she cried, "give o'er thy toiling;
For thy toil thou hast but moiling.
Follow me where meadows fertile
Bloom unsown with rose and myrtle,

Laughing to the sky;
Laugh for joy the thousand flowers,
Birds, and brooks—the laughing hours

All unnoted fly."
But I answered: “I am sowing.

When my acres all are planted

Gladly to the realm enchanted
I will follow.”

Love passed by.
I was busy with my reaping

When Love passed by.
“Come," she cried, "thou plantest grieving,
Ripened sorrows art thou sheaving.
If the heart lie hollow, vain is
Garnered store. Thy wealth of grain is

Less than Love's least sigh.
Haste thee, for the hours fast dwindle
Ere the pyre of hope shall kindle

In life's western sky."
But I answered: "I am reaping.

When with song of youth and maiden,

Home the farm cart comes, full laden, I will follow.”

Love passed by.
I had gathered in my harvest

When Love passed by.

“Stay!" I called to her, swift speeding, Turning not, my cry unheeding. “Stay, O Love, I fain would follow; Stay thy flight, O fleet-winged swallow,

Cleaving twilight sky!
I am old, and worn, and weary,
Void my fields and heart—and dreary.

With thee I would fly.
Garnered woe is all my harvest,

Sad ghosts of my dead hopes haunt me,

Fierce regrets, like demons, taunt me-
Stay! I follow !"

Love passed by.



CHARACTERS REPRESENTED : Society GIRL, speaker present,

GIRI, FRIEND, supposed to be present.

So stolu scenare here for the wedding-I want you to see my

trousseau; Pa gave me carte blanche for the outfit—'tis all he need give me,

you know.

'Tisn't every girl marries three millions, and so he's as pleased as

can be.

Here's the dress, dear-white satin--Worth's latest; and the

flounces and veil, real point. See?

The girls are all dying with envy-last summer, at Newport, the

way They courte1 the man for his money was disgusting, I really must

say. Oh, Tiffany's keeping my diamonds-I shouldn't feel safe with

them here; I think they will make a sensation, no bride has had finer this year. Of course, we are going to Europe—the staterooms are taken, How long we shall stay I don't know; but I guess until late in

and all;

the fall. When we come back, I'll give a grand party--the house he is

building uptown Will be something superb when it's finished; I wish the inan's

name wasn't Brown.

In love with him? Jule, why you're joking ; lie's fifty at least, if

a day; But then he is really in love, dear-I am sure I shall have my

own way. You know I was never romantic—if he wants a pretty young wife, Why, I don't object to be petted and worshipped the rest of my

life. It's wicked to marry for money? Oh, yes, but who likes being

poor? Don't they say love flies out of the window when poverty darkens

the door? I did come near falling in love, once, with the handsomest fellow

in townAn artist with nothing but talent-my stars ! how the pater did

frown! But now he's delighted. Three millions !

. Three millions! What well-brought-up girl dare refuse? And the other girls' mothers are wishing their own daughters stood

. There's

fiancé now.

See his horses! Perhaps he does look rather grimAnd what of the handsome young artist? Oh, well, we won't

talk about him!

in my shoes.

INQUIRER. As I understand it, you American musicians object to the landing of foreign bands because their music comes in competition with your music?

AMERICAN MUSICIAN. Yah! Dass ist recht!

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