Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 February 1876 — That Detroit Police Court. [ARTICLE]

That Detroit Police Court.

NOT ONE FRIEND. “Henry Spooner, I’m afraid that sunset will shine upon the bars of your prisoncell,” said the court to the dreary-looking mau who next broke cover. . “It would be just my luck,” whined Henry. “ Everything has gone wrong with me for a month past.” “ You had some trouble on the market yesterday, Henry ?” “ Yes; a man called me a liar and I crushed him.” “You mean yon called a man a liar and he kicked you clear across Bates street?” “ Didn’t I lick him?” demanded the prisoner. “ After you were kicked," quietly continued the court, “ you went over to a saloon and wanted to sell your coat for whisky.” “ I went over and asked him for money. he owed me He wouldn't pay, and I threw him over his vile bar among his wicked liquors.” “ He took you by the neck and dumped you on the walk,” observed the court, “ and then you entered a grocery and fell backwards on to six dozen of eggs. If this isn’t an aggravated offense, Mr. dpooner, I’d like to know what you call it.” “Havel got a friend in this town!” asked Henry, wiping his eyes. “ Yon may have ; but what about those eggs? Here, now, when most of us Bettle our coffee with cold water because eggs are so nigh, you goandsit down on plump six dozen!" “ Have I got a friend in this ’ere wide wor-uld!” sobbed the prisoner. V Is thi« the way to encourage the hens of America, Hen-ry Spooner? Is this the way you incite the American biddy to lay her level best? Did Napoleon the First ever sit down on six dozen eggs? Did Peter the Great throw such insults at the straggling poultry of Russia?” “ Wifi anybody in this ’ere room lend

me ten dollars for a second and a half!” asked the tearful prisoner. No response. Not a sound to break the stillness except the labored breathing of an old man against whose ribs rested a loafer’s elbow. ~"V- ---“ Ninety days," renrtfrked His Honor, And ha took a seat on the aaw horse, And be wiped a tear from Ms eve; ~HU bl red flora pin ted down to hie toes, And he eald he waa awful dry. A CUBAN SYMPATHIZER. He was a man who would have disappeared from sight like cast-iron had lie fallen trom the dock, There was fatness there, and rotundity, and breadth of beam. Bat fatness is not wickedness. His name wh# reported as John Gray, and hi« open countenance had the honest look of a watermelon patch in October. < “Had a nght!" queried the court, as he moved his Bteeto Red out of Bijah’a reach. “I

' “It wasn’t a fight, sir—it was a little hlliiulty.” ' - ' “And ho got hold of your little ear with hia teeth, I observe.” MI believe he did, sir, though if it waa to do over again ! don’t think he’d want to hurt me. We were arguing, air, and he got mad." “Arguing about what?” “About Cuba, air." MWluat. ia Cuba to you?” naked hi* Honor, sharply. "Do you owp any sugar plantations in Cuba—are you interested in the Royal Havana lottery swindle?” “ I Imlieved that Cuba should lie free, sir," replied the prisoner, “ While the other man couldn’t agree. I waa never in Cuba, yet I deeply sympathize with her struggling patriots.” “Sympathize with your struggling grandmother!” exclaimed His Honor. “ You just mind your own business and let Cuba mind her’s! You don’t know but that all Cubans ought to be hanged, and If you want to do anything for her load up your shot-gun and go over there. This squatting down in a saloon, shoving your feet over the stove and creating a row over something that you know nothing about is reprehensible. I’ve a good mind to fine you fifty dollars!” “ Ploasudon’t— I’ll let Cuba go to grass!" entreated the prisoner. On his solemn promise to hunt around for a job of work and never to draw a tirize in the Havana lottery he was nlowed to depart.— Detroit Fret Press.