Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 July 1875 — A Scene in the New York Police Court. [ARTICLE]

A Scene in the New York Police Court.

“ Johnson, the officer says that you were drunk, and that you haven’t drawn a sober breath for a week. How is that, Johnson?” the Justice asked of the next prisoner. “ Yer Honor,” said Johnson, as he dropped one arm over thearail and leaned back heavily on the policeman, who supported him by the shoulder, “ yer Honor, it’s true. I’ve been drunk for a week, as you say, an’ I haven’t got a word to say to defend myself. I’ve been in this here court, I guess, a hundred times before, an’ every time I’ve asked your Honor to let me off light. But this time I don’t have no fear. You can send me up for ten days or you can send me up for ten years; it’s alTone now.” As he Spoke lie brushed away a tear with his hat; and when he paused he coughed a dry, racking cough, and drew his tattered coat closer about his throat. “ When I went up before/’ he continued, “ I alw’ays counted the days an’ the hours till I’d come off. This time I’ll count the blocks to the Potter’s Field. I’m almost gone, Judge.” He paused again, and looked down to his almost shoeless feet. “ When I was a little country boy,” he went on, “my mother used to say to me, ‘ Charlie, if you want to be a man, never touch liquor;’ an’ I’d answer, ‘No, ny>ther, I never will.’ If I’d kept that promise, you an’ me wouldn’t have been so well acquainted, Judge. If I could only be a boy again for half a day. If I could go into the old: school-house jest once more, an’ see the boys an’ girls as I used to see them in the old days, I could lay right down an’ die happy. But it’s too late. Send me up, Judge. Make it for ten days, or make it for life. It don’t make no difference. One way would be as short as the other. All I ask now is to die alone. I’ve been in crowded tenements for years. If I can be alone a little while before I go, I’ll drop off contented.” The shoulder of the muddy coat slipped from the policeman’s hand, and the usedup man fell in a heap to the floor. He was carried to the little room behind the rail. His temples w'ere bathed, and his wTists were chafed. But it was no use. Though his heart still beat, he w r as fast going to join his schoolmates who have crossed the flood. The shutters were bowed, the door was closed. He might die contented, for he was left alone.