“About this time Brutus commences to show in th' runnin'. Brutus is th' head of th' Citizens' Union, an' him an' his fellow mugwumps put in their time bluffin' an' four-flushin' 'round about reform. They had everybody buffaloed, except Cæsar. Brutus is for closin' th' saloons, puttin' th' smother on horse racin', an' wants every Roman kid who plays baseball Sunday pinched.” “He gives me a pain!” complained Goldie Cora. “An' mind you, all th' time Brutus is graftin' with both hooks. He's in on the Aqueduct; he manages a forty per cent, hold out on the Appian way; an' what long green he has loose he loans to needy skates in Spain at pawn shop rates, an' when they don't kick in he uses the legions to collect. Brutus is down four ways from the jack on everything in sight. Nothin's calculated to embarrass him but a pair of mittens.” “An' at that,” remarked Harrington, who had a practical knowledge of politics, “him an' his mugwump bunch didn't have nothin' on th' New York reformers. Do youse guys remember when the city bought th' ferries? There was------” “I'd sooner hear Slimmy,” said Goldie Cora. “Me too,” agreed the Wop. Slimmy looked flattered. “Well, then,” he continued, “all this time Caesar is the big screech, an' it makes Brutus so sore he gets to be a bug. So he starts to talkin'. 'This Cæsar guy,' says Brutus, 'won't do.' “'Right you be,' says Cassius, who's always been a kicker. 'That's what I've been tellin' you lobsters from th' jump.' “With this an old souse named Casca sits up, an' says he ain't seen nothin' wrong about Cæsar. “'Oh, roll over!' says Cassius. 'Why even the newsboys are on. You know Cæsar's wardman--that fresh baby, Mark Antony? It's ribbed up right now that at th' Lupercal he's to hand Cæsar a crown.' “Casca an' th' other bone-heads turns to Brutus. “'Yes,' says Brutus, answerin' their looks; 'Cassius has got good information. He's givin' youse th' correct steer.'” “An' did Cæsar cop off the crown?” asked Goldie Cora, eagerly. Slimmy shook his head. “Th' Lupercal comes 'round,” said he, “an' Mark Antony is there with bells on. He makes a funny crack or two about a crown, but nothin' goes. Th' wind-up is that Brutus, Cassius, Casca, an' th' rest of th' Citizens' Union, gang Cæsar later in th' forum, go at him with their chives, an' cut an' slash till his hide won't hold his principles.” “An' wasn't there,” demanded the Wop, with heat, “so much as wan strong-arm la-a-ad up at Cæsar's end av th' alley, wit' th' nerve to git even?”