back to the
magistrate's table. His guilty soul was withering in his bosom. Tyrants
as his father and mother had been to me, I pitied them, for they were
not guilty of his crime.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Captain Fishley, angrily, as the
detective dragged his son up to the bar of justice.

"I arrest him for robbing the mail."

"Me!" exclaimed Ham, his lips as white as his face, and his knees
smiting each other in his terror.

"I should like to know!" ejaculated his mother, holding up both her
hands in horror and surprise.

"Do you mean to say that Ham robbed the mail!" demanded Captain
Fishley.

"I am afraid he did."

"Then you are going to believe what that wretch says," gasped Mrs.
Fishley, pointing to me.

The justice immediately organized his court for the examination of the
new culprit, and Captain Fishley was called as the first witness.

"Does your son receive wages for his services?" asked the detective, who
managed the case for the post-office.

"No, not exactly wages. I give him what money he wants."

"How much money do you give him?"

"As much as he wants," replied the witness, sourly.

"How much have you given him during the last two months?"

"I don't know."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know."

"Answer the question to the best of your knowledge and belief,"
interposed the justice.

"Perhaps fifteen or twenty dollars," replied the captain, determined to
make the sum large enough to cover the case, though I believed that the
sum he named was double the actual amount he had given Ham.

"Did it exceed twenty?"

"No, I think not."

The detective then inquired particularly into the management of the
mails, as to who opened them and sorted the letters. I was then placed
on the stand. I told my story, as I have related it before. I produced
the fragment of the envelope I found in the fireplace on the morning
after the destruction of the letter. Captain Fishley was overwhelmed,
and Mrs. Fishley wrung her hands, declaring it was all "an awful lie."

Captain Fishley immediately called in Squire Pollard, who had done so
well for me, to defend his son. The skilful lawyer subjected me to a
severe cross-examination, in which I told the simple truth, with all the
collateral circumstances about the party at Crofton's, the hour, the
weather, the day, and twenty other things which he dragged in to confuse
me. Truth is mighty always, in little as well as in great things, and
she al