At the time appointed I, of course, reappeared in Waukegan. Unfortunately my father had been unable to leave his home, never for an instant imagining his services might again be required. Owing, however, to the incompetency of the District Attorney or the astuteness of my friend's counsel, the trial of the latter was deferred until the succeeding term of Court; and what was my disgust at finding, having surrendered on my bail, I was again to have a domicile under lock and key until the new trial, unless my parent again put in an appearance upon the scene. But, even while the sheriff was preparing once more to escort me to jail, a voice from among the crowd in the Court-room sang out, in that delicious Irish brogue I had so often endeavored on the stage to imitate with my own tongue: "Would yer honor accept the likes of bail, for the poor boy?" It must be candidly admitted, that I had never before entertained so warm a love for the Irish brogue. It sounded like perfect music to my ears. Still more did it do so, when, after a brief confab between the Judge and the District Attorney, the proffered bail was accepted, and with a kindly but vigorous slap on my back, my new bondsman exclaimed: "Now! my boy, all I ask of ye, is, that ye don't throw me in for the bail. When ye were shut up before, yer face didn't spake much for ye. But now, I couldn't bear to see a good-looking fellow as ye are trotting off to jail for nothing at all." A roar of laughter from those who were present followed this speech. Very certainly, as my Irish friend said, my "face didn't spake much for me," upon that previous occasion, if it did possibly justify his warm-heartedness now. But, as the great dramatist says: "One touch of kindness makes the whole world kin;" and to a certain extent at any rate, on this occasion, it did so. His goodness of heart had struck an answering chord in the bosom of all the spectators. They crowded around me, offering their congratulations, and shaking my hands with a vigor which might have gone far to prove that they would have done the same kindness for me, provided they had merely chanced to think of it. Once more, I returned to my father, and resided with him until the Court a third time convened, when I again returned to Waukegan, and proved to the good-hearted Irishman that the lad he had become bondsman for, was not "the boy to throw him in for the bail." Now, however, I found that a change of venue had been obtained for the trial, and I was obliged to go to Chicago. It was a fourth time deferred, and on my inability or unwillingness to give new bonds in a city where I could easily have procured bail, I was ordered to prison for a third time. The sheriff, of course, had no discretion allowed him in obeying the order of the Court. He therefore conducted me to prison, when he duly locked the door of my cell upon me. Immediately after, he unlocked it, saying: