“I object,” shouted the District Attorney. “He is unqualified to determine the condition of this person. I request that his remarks be stricken from the record.” I looked at Judge Foster. He seemed impressed with what I had said. “As a newspaper reporter, the witness is a man of keen observation. His testimony should be heard,” he said. When the case was given to the jury, Judge Foster harped for some length on my testimony and a verdict of manslaughter, carrying a twenty years’ sentence, instead of “murder in the first degree,” saved the defendant from the electric chair. * * * * * In those days I could both sprint and run distances without tiring too easily, and this athletic ability came in handy on nights when I had to report track meets and get my copy in early. In the days of which I write, telegraph service wasn’t used with any frequency. As I worked on a morning newspaper, my story had to be in the office before eleven o’clock. Press time was midnight. One night, both Dan and I were covering the Military Athletic League track and field championships at the Seventh Regiment Armory. After George Bonhag, of the New York A.C., had romped home a winner in the two-mile, Daniel and I decided it was time to head for our respective papers. The Third Avenue Elevated station was only two blocks to the east of the Armory and five to the south, and as there wasn’t a taxi in sight, we decided to run to the station in an effort to make our deadlines. I led the way, and undoubtedly must have been feeling fine for we ran and ran at a lively clip until Dan suddenly halted and breathlessly shouted after me: “What’s wrong, Nat? Where’s the durned El?” We got our bearings and discovered that instead of traveling east and then south, we were racing down Park Avenue and had reached Seventy-ninth Street, far off our course, and more than a mile from the armory. We set off again, this time in the right direction, and just made the second editions of the _Press_ and _Herald_, respectively. But on our way to the newspaper offices, we wondered why we hadn’t competed in the two-mile run that evening. We might have beaten Bonhag. [Illustration: 7] THE UNDERWORLD IN BOXING Prohibition failed to keep the average citizen from having a drink when he wanted one, and no attempt by the authorities proved successful in keeping the average New York fan away from boxing entertainment. But the demise of the Horton Law in 1900 deprived the game of its legal standing so far as shows catering to the general public were concerned. Even as the speakeasy provided a welcome substitute for the vanished saloon through the hectic period that preceded Repeal, so a haven of refuge was furnished the patrons of padded fist slugfests by the adoption of what was known as the club membership plan.