“Well, say, just make it read that I knocked the tar out o’ Mulligan will you, and that’ll make it all right.” Sometimes a clerk in an office or store creeks up the stairs and implores you for God’s sake not to insert his name. He’ll lose his situation, and when you agree to do so the gratitude that looks out of his watery eyes is unmistakable. The poor fellow, in spending a five dollar bill on his drunk, probably swallowed a whole week’s salary, and has been thereby sufficiently punished. To this specimen the whole business possesses a ghastly seriousness, but there is another class who treat it as a huge joke. It has been noticed that men of this sort are usually Englishmen, and their desire to have their name omitted from the Police court roster has its rise in their fear of the ridicule of their fellows rather than any loss of character or position in consequence of its being made public. THESE FELLOWS WILL LAUGH and say they have been on “a bit of a spree and got lugged by a bobby,” and ask in an off-hand way, “keep it hout will you, mistah,” and sometimes “mistah” does. Not quite a hundred years ago a man came into the presence of the city editor—tall, distinguished-looking man, clothed in the best West of England tweed. City editor very small person compared with man. Man takes chair offered him, and says, “I’ve got into a little scrape which you can help me out of if you would.” City editor ought to feel flattered, that man would condescend to use him to help him out of a scrape. But he is very ungrateful and answers coldly: “How can I help you?” “My wife,” says the man “is one of the most unreasonable creatures in the world when she gets into a passion. I came home the night before last after having done a hard day’s work in the store, and when I asked for a little supper she started to abuse me. She said a lot of mean things. I asked her to shut up for God’s sake, and she wouldn’t, and then, getting a little hot I tried to stop her tongue by putting the pillow on her head. That wouldn’t have hurt a lamb, but she struggled so that she struck her head against the corner of the bed post and cut it. Then she ran out on the street, and she has disgraced me. A policeman got her, and as there was some blood on my wife’s face he arrested me. I was bailed out immediately afterwards, but heavens, I had to appear in the court this morning. I don’t care so much myself as for my wife and family. I am a subscriber and advertiser in your paper, and I hope you’ll not say anything about it.” “Yes,” said the city editor, “I have heard something about the case. You got home at half-past one and wanted your wife to get out of bed and cook you a steak. Some women are very unreasonable! After your working from ten in the morning until five at night, with only an hour for dinner! It was a shame. If she had only thought of the long time it took you to get home she would have had some idea how tired you were!”