"Men commonly believe that all writings falsely made or falsely altered are forgeries. There was never a greater error. Forgery may be committed only of those instruments in writing which, if genuine, would, or might appear as the foundation of another man's liability, or the evidence of his right. All wrongful and injurious acts are not punished by the law. Wrongs to become crimes must measure up to certain definite and technical standards. These standards are laid down rigidly by the law and cannot be contracted or expanded. They are fixed and immutable. The act done must fit closely into the prescribed measure, else it is no crime. If it falls short, never so little, in any one vital element, the law must, and will, disregard it as criminal, no matter how injurious, or wrongful, or unjust it may be. The law is a rigid and exact science." Mr. William Van Broom dropped his hands to his sides and gazed at the lawyer in wonder. "These facts," continued the attorney, in his clear, passionless voice, "are matters of amazement to the common people when brought to their attention. They fail to see the wise but technical distinctions. They are willing to trust to what they are pleased to call common-sense, and, falling into traps laid by the cunning villain, denounce the law for impotency." "Well," said the jeweller, as he arose and put on his overcoat, "what is the good of the law anyhow?" The prosecuting attorney smiled wearily. To him the wisdom of the law was clear, beautiful, and superlatively just. To the muddy-headed tradesman it was as color to the blind. V. Over in the art school of old Monsieur Pontique, Marie Gerard saw the result of the entire matter in the light of kindness and sweet self-sacrifice; and perhaps she saw it as it was. This is a queer world indeed. V--THE MEN OF THE JIMMY _[See Ranney vs. The People, 22 N.Y.R., 413; Scott vs. The People, 66 Barb. [N.Y], 62; The People vs. Blanchard, 90 N. Y. Repts., 314. Also, Rex vs. Douglas, 2 Russell on Crimes, 624, and other cases there cited.]_ I. PARKS," said Randolph Mason, "has Leslie Wilder a country place on the Hudson?" "Yes, sir," replied the bald little clerk. "It is at Cliphmore, I think, sir." "Well," said Mason, "here is his message, Parks, asking that I come to him immediately. It seems urgent and probably means a will. Find out what time a train leaves the city and have a carriage." The clerk took the telegram, put on his coat, and went down on the street. It was cold and snowing heavily. The wind blew up from the river, driving the snow in great, blinding sheets. The melancholy Parks pulled his hat down over his face, walked slowly round the square, and came back to the entrance of the office building. Instead of taking the elevator he went slowly up the steps into the outer office. Here he took off his coat and went over to the window, and stood for some minutes looking out at the white city.