m he knew nothing about them. He had
read that boys are sometimes employed by house-breakers to climb in
through windows or broken pannels, to open the door on the inside;
and now he was thought to be such a one himself.

It was a dismal night for him.

Early in the morning the prisoners were all taken before a
magistrate.

The drunkard, who claimed to be a gentleman, and who had been
taken to the watch-house for assaulting the barkeeper of a
tavern, was fined five dollars, and dismissed.

The negro and the old white man had been caught in the attempt
to break into a house, and were sent to prison, to await their
trial for burglary; and the other white man was also sent to
prison, until he could be tried, for stealing a pocket-book in
an auction store.

Rodney was then called forward. The watchman told how and why he
had taken him; and the boy was asked to give an account of
himself. He told his story truthfully and tearfully, while the
magistrate looked coldly at him.

"A very good story," said the magistrate; "it seems to be well
studied. I suspect you are an artful fellow, notwithstanding
your innocent face. I shall bind you over for trial, my lad. I
think such boys as you should be stopped in time; and a few
years in some penitentiary would do you good."

What could Rodney say? What could he do? He was among strangers.
He could send for no one to testify of his good character, or to
become bail for him. And, if his friends had been near, he felt
that he had rather die than that they should know of his
disgrace.

The magistrate gave an officer a paper--a commitment--and told
him to take the boy to the Arch-street jail. The constable took
him by the arm, and led him out.

As they walked along the street, Rodney looked around him to
see if there was no way of escape. If he could only get a chance
to run! As they came to the corner of a little alley, he asked
the constable to let him tie his shoe, the string of which was
loose. The man nodded, and Rodney placed his foot upon a
door-step, sheering round beyond the reach of the officer's
hand, and towards the alley. Rodney, as he rose, made one
spring, and in a moment was gone down the alley. The officer
rushed after him, and shouted, "Stop thief! stop thief!"

"O, that I should ever be chased for a thief!" groaned Rodney,
clenching his teeth together, and running at his best speed.

That terrible cry, "_Stop thief!_" rung after him, and soon
seemed to b