be the judge.” He stretched himself in his berth, but not to sleep. On the following morning Maria, with the frail companions of her cell, is brought into court, and arraigned before His Honor, Judge Sleepyhorn, who, be it said to his credit, though terrible in his dealings with the harder sex, and whose love of hanging negroes is not to be outdone, is exceedingly lenient with female cases, as he is pleased to style them. Though her virtue is as chaste as the falling snow, Maria is compelled to suffer, for nearly an hour, the jeers and ribald insinuations of a coarse crowd, while the fact of her being in the guard-house is winged over the city by exultant scandal-mongers. Nevertheless, she remains calm and resolute. She sees the last struggle of an eventful life before her, and is resolved to meet it with womanly fortitude. The Judge smiles, casts a glance over his assembly, and takes his seat, as Mr. Sergeant Stubble commences to read over the charges against the accused. “Business,” says the Judge, “will proceed.” “Now, Judge!” speaks up one of the frail women, coming forward in a bold, off-hand manner to speak for her companions, “I don’t exactly see what we have done so much out of the way. No ladies of our standing have been up here before. The law’s comin’ very nice all at once. There’s a heap, as you know, Judge—” “No, no, no! I know nothing about such places!” quickly interrupts the Judge, his face full of virtuous indignation, and his hands raised in horror. “Then I may be pardoned for not wearing spectacles,” resumes the woman, with a curtsy. Finding the judgment-seat becoming a little too warm for his nerves, the Judge very prudently dismisses the damsels, with an admonition to go and do better-in fine, to tighten their tongues as well as their morality. With the aid of Mr. Sergeant Stubble, Maria is brought forward, pale and trembling, and struggling with the war of grief waging in her heart. Calmly she looks up at the Judge for a moment, then hangs down her head in silence. “There is a Judge above who knows the circumstances, gives me now His hand, and will judge me in the balance of truth and mercy, when my enemies are at my feet,” flashes through her thoughts, and strengthens the inner nature. But her tongue has lost its power; her feelings unbend to the thought that she is in a criminal court, arraigned before a Judge. She has no answer to make to the Judge’s questions, but gives way to her emotions, and breaks out into loud sobs. Several minutes, during which a sympathizing silence is manifest, pass, when she raises slowly her head, and makes an attempt to mutter a few words in her defence. But her voice chokes, and the words hang, inarticulate, upon her lips. She buries her face in her hands, and shakes her head, as if saying, “I have said all.”