"The cop was utterly useless, he grabbed the small man that I had floored in the beginning of the row, clubbed him a little, and hung on to him like grim death. The manager was crazy, and told him to send for a hurry-up wagon, and run us all in. We showed the law great respect, though, after the shindy was over; called him sergeant and offered to support him in maintaining the peace. He didn't know exactly who was responsible, so he contented himself with shaking the little man some more, and declaring that he could 'attend to this business alone, and didn't want no help, see?' Marc Antony wanted the blood of Jack and Blathers, but Riley, the star, who played Brutus, was inclined to think that Antony was to blame for the whole thing. You see Antony had got more applause than Brutus all through. His great speech had had a particular success, probably due to our able presentation of the populace. Riley sat on Marc first, and then they both went for Cæsar, who was maudlin in the corner. He had got a helmet on, wrong side before, and was begging us with tears in his eyes to go 'once more into the breach, dear friends, or close the wall with our English dead.' When Brutus cursed him he drew himself up and hiccoughed, 'Et tu, Brute,--hic--well--hic you seen me at Philippi anyhow.' "Riley went back on the stage and made a little speech, and the audience cheered him to the echo. Then the play went on, Brutus died like a man, and all the principals, including J. Cæsar and Blathers, were called before the curtain. Jack made it up with Marc Antony, and after the show we consoled the vanquished army with what was left of the champagne. Most of the supes were Irish, anyway, and had enjoyed the pleasantry." IN THE EARLY SIXTIES. It was ten o'clock and time for John Stuart Mill to give place to Mary Jane, so Stoughton threw the former into an arm-chair and took the latter from the mantel-piece. He filled and lighted her affectionately, and the content of the evening pipe came upon him. Then he bethought him of beer and pleasant converse, and strolled around to the Pudding in pursuit thereof. There he found the usual ten o'clock "resting convention" in session beneath its blue cloud of nicotine. The "earnest resters," as Burleigh termed them, were stretched about in various attitudes, more of laziness than repose. They were just then engaged in the popular pastime of blackguarding the last number of the _Lampoon_ for the benefit of Hudson, one of the editors. "Hullo, Dick," remarked that gentleman, glad to change the subject as Stoughton entered, "we knew you were coming; smelt Mary Jane as soon as you turned the corner." "Did you, really," replied Stoughton, making room for himself on the sofa by removing Rattleton's legs to a neighboring chair, and spilling the dog Blathers on the floor. "What was that chum of yours doing in the building last night? Were you also engaged in the unseemly disturbance?"