“If you have no funds,” insisted the judge, “it lies within the power of the court to appoint an attorney to represent you without expense on your part.” “You needn’t be botherin’ yo’se’f, jedge,” answered Mose. “Well, what do you propose to do about this case?” demanded his Honor. “You must be properly defended—the law so provides.” “Jedge,” said Mose, “ez fur ez I’se concerned you kin jest let de matter drap!” § 91 This One Stood the Test of Time Here is one which at intervals I have been hearing for years. It seems to me it gets better with each time of telling. I wonder if the reader will agree with me that its antiquity does not affect its excellence. The thing is supposed to have happened in a remote court house of Missouri. A resident of the Ozark Mountains whose reputation was none the best, had been on trial on the charge of horse stealing. The jury returned a verdict of guilty. Taking into consideration the past record of the offender, his Honor on the bench said: “It is my intention to sentence you to at least eight years at hard labor in State’s prison. Now, then, before sentence is formally pronounced, I shall listen to anything you may have to say in your behalf.” After a moment of consideration the offender spoke: “Well,” he said, “I don’t know ez I’ve got ary thing to say only this—it strikes me that you folks ’round this here cote house air purty toler’ble dam’ liberal with other people’s time.” § 92 The Prudent Bride A comely colored girl was preparing for her marriage. Before the ceremony she hoarded her wages; but immediately after the wedding she hunted up her mistress and asked her to take charge of the fund. “I’ll take it, of course,” said the puzzled lady; “but, Mandy, won’t you be needing your money to spend on your honeymoon?” “Miss May,” said the bride, “does you think I’se goin’ to trust myse’f wid a strange nigger an’ all dat money on me?” § 93 As a Favor to the Railroad A New Yorker had a bad attack of grippe and went South to recuperate. He stopped a few days in a small town in South Carolina. When he got ready to leave for the North he found the official bus had vanished; probably the driver had gone joy riding. There was no conveyance, public or private, to be had; in order to catch his train the Northerner was compelled to labor afoot over a mile and a half of dusty road, with a valise in either hand. When he staggered up to the tiny station there was no one in sight except an old darky who was sitting on the platform. “Uncle,” inquired the New Yorker, “why in the name of goodness did they build this depot so far from town?” The old man scratched his head. “I don’t know, boss,” he said—“onless it wuz because dey wanted to git it closer to de railroad.” § 94 Where the Real Fault Lay