man from Sing Sing on the stand," he
said, "but let's have him sworn first. It is precisely what I desire.
Nothing would charm me half so much."

So they swore the jail-bird, made him confess that he had served his
term fully, and then told him to step down and out. His evidence was not
needed. Mr. Rosenberg was raked fore and aft, but he stuck to his story.
When the diminutive counsellor intimated that he was worse than the
prisoner, the witness smiled serenely and winked at the magistrate as if
it was a good joke.

"If he talked that way to me I'd punch his head," said the Baltimore man
in a whisper.

No one could tell where Theresa was, although weeks had been spent
searching for her. And yet she is no ordinary woman. Twenty-three years
of age, elegantly formed, dark, lustrous eyes, satiny coils of black
hair, olive complexion, seed-pearl teeth, full red lips, small hands and
feet, and graceful carriage. She wears diamond drops at her ears and
sparkling rings upon her fingers. Her favorite attire, as if life were a
perpetual dressing for dinner, is a black-corded silk, fitted close to
the figure, made high in the neck, with a trembling edge of lace at the
throat clustering about a diamond catch whose brilliancy it veils. This
is not a fancy portrait, but word for word from an enthusiastic admirer
of Lowenthal's step-daughter. But where is she? It is not known. Where
is the John Sherman letter to Anderson? Where is the Boston Belting
Company's money? Where is Tom Collins? And where's Emma Collins? An
impenetrable gloom shrouds them all.

After a rather protracted lunch on his eye-glasses, Judge Wandell, in
reply to Mr. Hummel's motion, rendered his decision to the effect that
there was not sufficient evidence to hold aged Mr. Lowenthal. The
octogenarian heard it with delight, and came as near skipping like a
lamb from the court-room as is possible for one of his age.

*Shoppers' Perils.*

INTERESTING CASE TO TRADESPEOPLE--THE PERILS TO WHICH RESPECTAPLE LADIES
ARE SUBJECTED TO IN CERTAIN FASHIONABLE STORES.

Much of the time of the Court of Special Sessions was absorbed in the
trial of a case of some importance to ladies who make purchases. A
pleasant-faced looking woman, named Ellen Whalen, was arraigned for
petit larceny in having stolen an accordeon from the store of Ehrich's
on Eighth Avenue. The main evidence against her was that of Alexander G.
Sisson, the detective of that establishment, who testified