rownin' men will hold to straws. That straw,
yer Honor, was the spar of a vessel movin' through the water. It was, I
found out afterward, one of the pieces which had wedged the ship on the
Marine Railway, where she had been gettin' repaired, and she comin' off
hurriedly about dusk, had not been loosened from her. I raised my voice
by a despairin' effort, and screamed 'Help! help!' When I came to I was
on an Austrian merchant ship, bound to Wilmington, North Carolina, for
naval stores, and then to Trieste. The blow of the spar had given me a
slight crack av the skull."

"That crack is wide open yet," said Calvin Van de Lear.

"Begorra," returned the Irishman, facing placidly around until he found
the owner of the voice, "Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, it would take many such
a blow, sur, to fracture your heart!"

"Go on now, Donovan, and finish your tale. You were carried off to
Trieste?" spoke Duff Salter.

"I was, sir. At Wilmington no news had been recaved of any tragedy in
Philadelphia, and when I told my story there to a gentleman he concluded
I was ravin' and a seein' delusions. The Austrian was short av a crew,
and the docthor said if they could get away to sea he could make me
effective very soon. I was too helpless to go on deck or make
resistance. Says I, 'It's the will av God.'"

A round of applause greeted this story as it was ended, and cheerful
hands were extended to the witness and the prisoner. Calvin Van de Lear,
however, exclaimed:

"Alderman, what has all this to do with the prisoner's ignominious
flight for months from his home and from persons he abandoned to
suspicion and shame? This man is an impostor."

"Will you take the stand, Mr. Andrew Zane?" asked Duff Salter.

"No," replied the late fugitive. "I have been hunted and slandered like
a wolf. I will give no evidence in Kensington, where I have been so
shamefully treated. Let me be sent to a higher court, and there I will
speak."

"Alas!" Duff Salter said, with grave emphasis, "it is you father's old
and obstinate spirit which is speaking. You are the ghost I thought was
his at the door of my chamber. Mr. Magistrate, swear me!"

Duff Salter gravely kissed the Testament and stood ready to depose, when
Calvin Van de Lear again interrupted.

"Are you not deaf?" asked the divinity student. "Where are your tablets
that you carry every day? You seem to hear too well, I consider."

"You are right," cried Duff Salter, turning on his interrogator l