"Judge.—It won't do, sir, I shall fine you $10.
"Prisoner.—'That's the way the money goes—pop goes the weasel.'
"Indignant Officer.—I'll pop you over the head presently.
"Prisoner.—'There's whisky in the jug.'
"Officer.—You'll be there, too, shortly.
"Judge.—If you can't pay you must go to jail.
"Prisoner.—'Give me a cot in the valley I love.'
"Judge.—Very well, sir, I'll do it. Tombs, ten days.
"Prisoner.—'I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls.'
"The officer was about removing the individual below, when I came to the rescue, and informed the Judge that the prisoner was a friend of mine, that this was the first occasion in which he had ever manifested such eccentricities, and if he would let him off from the punishment this time, I would take him to his home and see that he never disturbed the city by his yells in the future.