ODDS AND ENDS. 



THE STAR TROTTER 



BY MURT H. BASSETT. 



"Take her to the Washingtonian 

 Home for a month and get the 

 "dope" out of her," ordered his 

 honor, as Officer Morierty ambled 

 out of the dock with "Cocaine Meg, " 

 of Plymouth Place. "Now, Mr. 

 Prosecutor." continued the court in 

 a lower tone, as he cast his eye 

 down the trial sheet, "what the 

 duce is this next name?" 



"You've got me there," replied 

 the alert young lawyer, giving his 

 cuffs an extra twist, and fastening 

 his eyes on the trial sheet over 

 which the police judge was puzz- 

 ling, his brow wrinkled with per- 

 plexity. "It looks like O. K-y-a-n- 

 y-a-n," slowly spelling the name. 



"I know as much as that, con- 

 found it, but that don't elucidate to 

 my confused intelligence the pro- 

 nunciation," retorted his honor 

 with a trace of irriscibility in his 

 tone. 



The hum of conversation and 

 shuffling of feet had by this time 

 hushed in the Harrison street sta- 

 tion police court, the usual noise of 

 the dingy temple of justice hushed 

 to a subdued, expectant surprise at 

 the unusual lull in business while 

 the colloquy between the magis- 

 trate and his adviser proceeded. 

 Time enough had been wasted in 



the busy whirl of Harrison street 

 to have sent six "Hop" fiends to 

 the Bridewell. Seven stalwart po- 

 licemen, "the very foinest," stood 

 with their backs to the clerk's desk 

 waiting for their cases to be called, 

 and each beat a subdued tatoo with 

 their clubs on the spike-like pal- 

 ings, and each had a look of impa- 

 tience on his face. 



"Indade, Oim iv th' opinyon, ye's 

 honor, that th' nex' case is me own," 

 remarked Officer Doherty, leaning 

 over the railing dividing the trial 

 dock from the raised diaz where sat 

 the purveyor of justice. ' 'Th' same 

 is an ould mon I bagged on the 

 Hubbyard place lasht night. Oi 

 think his name is Cayenne, an' tis 

 he that is a pippery wan, himself." 



"That name will do as well as 

 any," remarked the court and he 

 proceeded with the broken thread 

 of business by calling the case in a 

 loud tone. 



Slowly and with faltering steps 

 a decrepit old man, with snow- 

 white hair and beard, the latter 

 long, pointed and unkempt, moved 

 forward in response to the beckon- 

 ing finger of Officer Doherty. He 

 was a spare piece of humanity. He 

 had once been tall but was now 

 stooped and bent with age; his fin- 

 gers were long and bony. His com- 

 plexion was swarthy, yet sallow, as 



