e is disqualified from subpoena.
In fact, Your Honor, the witness died this morning."

The lawyer took out his handkerchief ostentatiously. He then bent to
his papers with shaking hands. He looked them over carefully while the
court held its breath.

"As the government is not in possession of any evidence against
Muldoon, I move to nolle prosequi the case."

"It is granted," said the judge, with a keen glance at the bloated
prisoner, whom wardmen and officers of the law were already
congratulating profusely.

"Order!" continued the judge. "Prisoner, stand up! You are allowed
to go upon your own recognizance in the sum of two hundred and fifty
dollars."

The next case was called, a new crowd entered the vitiated room,
and the court proceeded with its routine as if nothing unusual had
happened.

And the silent witness has passed out of every memory but mine, and
that of one poor girl mourning in the New Hampshire hills.

[Illustration: THE SUN'S LIGHT]

THE SUN'S LIGHT

BY SIR ROBERT BALL,

LOWNDEAN PROFESSOR OF ASTRONOMY AND GEOMETRY AT CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND;
FORMERLY ROYAL ASTRONOMER OF IRELAND.

The light of the great orb of day emanates solely from a closely
fitting robe of surpassing brightness. The great bulk of the sun which
lies within that brilliant mantle is comparatively obscure, and might
at first seem to play but an unimportant part so far as the dispensing
of light and heat is concerned. It may indeed be likened to the
coal-cellar from whence are drawn the supplies that produce the warmth
and brightness of the domestic hearth; while the brilliant robe where
the sun develops its heat corresponds to the grate in which the coal
is consumed. With regard to the thickness of the robe, we might liken
this brilliant exterior to the rind of an orange, while the gloomy
interior regions would correspond to the edible portion of the fruit.
Generally speaking, the rind of the orange is rather too coarse for
the purpose of this illustration. It might be nearer the truth to
affirm that the luminous part of the sun may be compared to the
delicate filmy skin of the peach. There can be no doubt that if this
glorious veil were unhappily stripped from the sun, the great luminary
would forthwith lose its powers of shedding forth light and heat. The
spots which we see so frequently to fleck the dazzling surface, are
merely rents in the brilliant mantle through which we are permitted to
obtain glimpses o