found upon the doorstep of
our esteemed fellow-citizen Anderson Crow, last February. The item
concerning its discovery first appeared in the columns of the
_Banner_, as will be remembered by our many readers. Detective
Crow promised developments some time ago, but they have not showed
up. It is rumoured that he has a new clew, but it cannot be
substantiated. The general impression is that he does not know
whether it is a boy or girl. We advise Mr. Crow to go slow. He
should not forget the time when he arrested Mr. John Barnes, two
years ago, for the murder of Mr. Grover, and afterward found that
the young gent was merely eloping with Judge Brewster's daughter,
which was no crime. We saw the girl. Those of our readers who were
alive at the time doubtless recall the excitement of that man-hunt
two years ago. Mr. Barnes, as innocent as a child unborn, came to
our little city engaged in the innocent pastime of getting married.
At the same time it was reported that a murder had been committed
in this county. Mr. Crow had his suspicions aroused and pursued Mr.
Barnes down the river and arrested him. It was a fine piece of
detective work. But, unfortunately for Mr. Crow, the real murderer
had been caught in the meantime. Mr. Barnes was guilty only of
stealing judge Brewster's daughter and getting married to her. The
last heard of them they were happy in New York. They even forgave
Mr. Crow, it is reported. It is to be hoped that our clever
detective will soon jump down upon the heartless parents of this
innocent child, but it is also to be hoped that he think at least
four times before he leaps."

To say that the foregoing editorial disturbed the evenness of Mr. Crow's
temper would be saying nothing at all. In the privacy of his barn lot
Anderson did a war dance that shamed Tecumseh. He threatened to
annihilate Harry Squires "from head to foot," for publishing the base
slander.

"Doggone his hide," roared poor Anderson, "fer two cents I'd tell all I
know about him bein' tight up at Boggs City three years ago. He couldn't
walk half an inch that time without staggerin'. Anyhow, I wouldn't have
chased Mr. Barnes that time if it hadn't been fer Harry Squires. He
egged me on, doggone his hide. If he didn't have that big typesetter
from Albany over at the _Banner_ office to back him up I'd go over an'
bust h