liable to prosecution to disturb the body until the coroner came and an inquest was held. Advice not altogether disinterested on the part of Mr. Snopple, who, in his professional zeal, saw at once an excellent opportunity for an effective picture, and did not wish the group disturbed while he hastened off to his studio for a camera. Unfortunately for the advancement of art, before he returned, George Gildersleeve, the ubiquitous, appeared on the scene. Here was a man of action. He took one hand out of its pocket, felt of Jack and pronounced him "right enough," and then addressing the crowd said, "Lay hold here, boys, some of you, and toss him into this cart and get him home. He's hefty." And "hefty" he was, sure enough, and it took some tugging from strong arms to lift the dead weight of his bulky form into a grocer's cart near at hand, for the racing jagger was badly broken, and the mare had scampered off with the thills. By this time Mark Gildersleeve had returned with Dr. Wattletop, and the latter accompanied Jack to his home, where the fears of his relatives were speedily allayed by his being pronounced not seriously injured, but uncommonly drunk. When Dr. Wattletop returned to his domicil he found Mark Gildersleeve awaiting him. "How is he, doctor?" eagerly asked the young man. "Oh bless you, he'll do. The devil takes care of his own. Born to be hung, you know, and so forth. A simple contusion--plastered it up--he'll be all right when he gets sober. He's just ugly enough, too, to appear worse than he is, and frightened his sweet little sister out of her wits. The others, though, didn't seem to mind it so much, and no wonder. But what makes you so anxious about him? When you came after me, you looked so pale and agitated hopes arose of a profitable patient. They're not so plenty now as they might be, and I welcome them with joy and gratitude," said the doctor, tapping Mark familiarly on the shoulder. "I feel so relieved, doctor; I was afraid he might be seriously hurt. He provoked me, and I retaliated. Had I noticed or known that he was drunk, perhaps I would not have minded him. He fell so heavily that I feared he might have broken his neck." "He might, I grant, but he didn't. More's the pity, perhaps, for his friends and family. Especially for that poor wife of his, whom he will certainly kill in time, if he don't kill himself first. But, so you were the one that caused all this row, eh? You didn't say anything about that before. How dared you, rash youth, raise your ire against the heir-apparent? Fear you not the wrath of the prince-regnant? Know ye not that for thrift to follow it is as necessary now, as ever, to fawn to wealth and position? Anchylosis, my boy, invariably affects the pocket, mind that!"