The Editor's Bag A singular example of the Bertillon system is referred to in the London Globe, 'which speaks of the suspected author of a London burglary who was once arrested and declined to say whether he was innocent or guilty. "It's your business," he said to the police",to establish my identity. I've been in jail before and when I was last arrested not so very long ago I was submitted to all sorts of photographic operations and an imprint of my thumbs was taken. It ought to be at Scotland Yard, with my real name. I haven't got much confidence in your new-fangled systems for the identification of criminals, and I wish to put them to trial. I defy the police to discover my name, my surname, and antecedents. For the moment, and because you must have a name of some sort, I'm John Smith. You can find out the rest for yourselves." The police, put on their mettle, determined not to be beaten. Three days later an in spector entered the prisoner's cell, and said: "You are not John Smith. You are Robert Mills, and you have three previous convic tions against you. Here are the imprints of your fingers, taken eight years ago, and in every respect identical with those taken the other day, when you were arrested." The accused examined with a magnifying glass the enlarged digital records presented to him, and verified their identity by comparing the various designs. Then he declared him self satisfied with the success of the test to which he had subjected the "new-fangled" system. A STORY OF J. BROWN HOVEY THE Pickwick of the Missouri bar was J.Brown Hovey, whose "shingle" rattled in the winds of Independence, the seat of justice in Jackson county. In those days lawyers rode the circuit. Hovey's nag that was known for miles around was of the species called among horsemen the flea-bitten type. Mounted on this steed, with his eyes magnified by gig-lamp spectacles, with his trousers tucked in red-top boots, and his saddle-bags bulging with law books, Hovey was a sight that would have focused the attention of Dickens. Lawyers in Hovey's days rode miles to consult clients and witnesses. Hovey was bundle of nerves. He talked faster than a cyclone travels. On one occasion he rode forty miles to see one of his re
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tainers, for Hovey had learned of a new phase in the case that was the first on the next docket. Reaching his destination he dismounted, threw the reins over a gate post and rushed to the entrance of the house. A husky darky met him. In reply to Hovey's question for the master the darky replied that no one but himself was at home, and that the master would not be back until the next day. "Tell your master when he returns that I called on important business connected with his case, and for him to see me as soon as possible", said Hovey in a rapid manner which no arrangement of type could adequately describe. "Yes, suh, yes, suh," replied the man at the door, who was shivering like a leaf in a gale. "And who is you, suh; who shall I tell massa you is, suh?" "Tell him," exclaimed the lawyer in a rage, "that J. Brown Hovey, attorney at law, was here, you black scamp, do you hear?" Bang went the door, down to his mount strode Hovey, the tails of his coat fluttering in the wind. The master of the house returned soon after, before he was expected. On entering the house he found his servant on his knees weeping and wailing. In broken sentences he explained to his master:— "Oh, massa, yo' time am sholy come, an' I wanter ax yoo befo' yoo done gwine, dat yoo maik me free." After many threats and some promises the darky explained, "Well, massa, he was done heah, and he tole me for to tell yoo dat yoo wus to come to him, right off. Hi wus ridin' a white hoss, and dat sholy mean def [death ], and he done tole me dat Brown J. Hovey, de eternal Lord, was come for to see you." "Get up, you kinky-headed son of a seacook," roared the master, "and get me my dram. You come pretty nigh being a free nigger, only I happened to think that the Lord ain't traveling on a white horse to round up his people, and he ain't riding round under an alias, and especially the alias of that d d red-headed lawyer of mine." THE WITNESS'S AGE ' TT is a hard matter to get a woman on the 1- witness stand to state her age," a Chicago judge remarked the other day, "but the young man who is our prosecuting attor ney just now did it recently in a manner that
