injure
them. It occurred to me it would be good sport if I turned out the
light, softly opened the window, and threw coal at them. It would be
impossible for them to tell from which window in the block the coal
came, and thus subsequent unpleasantness would be avoided. They were a
compact little group, and with average luck I was bound to hit one of
them.

I adopted the plan. I could not see them very clearly. I aimed rather
at the noise; and I had thrown about twenty choice lumps without effect,
and was feeling somewhat discouraged, when a yell, followed by language
singularly unappropriate to the season, told me that Providence had
aided my arm. The music ceased suddenly, and the party dispersed,
apparently in high glee--which struck me as curious.

One man I noticed remained behind. He stood under the lamp-post, and
shook his fist at the block generally.

"Who threw that lump of coal?" he demanded in stentorian tones.

To my horror, it was the voice of the man at Eighty-eight, an Irish
gentleman, a journalist like myself. I saw it all, as the
unfortunate hero always exclaims, too late, in the play. He--number
Eighty-eight--also disturbed by the noise, had evidently gone out to
expostulate with the rioters. Of course my lump of coal had hit him--him
the innocent, the peaceful (up till then), the virtuous. That is the
justice Fate deals out to us mortals here below. There were ten to
fourteen young men in that crowd, each one of whom fully deserved that
lump of coal; he, the one guiltless, got it--seemingly, so far as the
dim light from the gas lamp enabled me to judge, full in the eye.

As the block remained silent in answer to his demand, he crossed the
road and mounted the stairs. On each landing he stopped and shouted--

"Who threw that lump of coal? I want the man who threw that lump of
coal. Out you come."

Now a good man in my place would have waited till number Eighty-eight
arrived on his landing, and then, throwing open the door would have said
with manly candour--

"_I_ threw that lump of coal. I was-," He would not have got further,
because at that point, I feel confident, number Eighty--eight would
have punched his head. There would have been an unseemly fracas on the
staircase, to the annoyance of all the other tenants and later, there
would have issued a summons and a cross-summons. Angry passions would
have been roused, bitter feeling engendered which might have lasted for
years.

I do not pr