ly looks up, and with an insidious leer, says, "There,
take yourself into the street. When next you enter a gentleman's office,
learn to deport yourself with good manners."

"Pshaw! pshaw!" interrupts the man. "What mockery! When men like
you--yes, I say men like you--that has brought ruin on so many poor
families, can claim to be gentlemen, rogues may get a patent for their
order." The man turns to take his departure, when the infuriated Keepum,
who, as we have before described, gets exceedingly put out if any one
doubts his honor, seizes an iron bar, and stealing up behind, fetches
him a blow over the head that fells him lifeless to the floor.

Maria shrieks, and vaults into the street. The mass upon the floor
fetches a last agonizing shrug, and a low moan, and is dead. The
murderer stands over him, exultant, as the blood streams from the deep
fracture. In fine, the blood of his victim would seem rather to increase
his satisfaction at the deed, than excite a regret.

Call you this murder? Truly, the man has outraged God's law. And the
lover of law and order, of social good, and moral honesty, would find
reasons for designating the perpetrator an assassin. For has he not
first distressed a family, and then left it bereft of its protector? You
may think of it and designate it as you please. Nevertheless we, in our
fancied mightiness, cannot condescend to such vulgar considerations. We
esteem it extremely courageous of Mr. Keepum, to defend himself "to the
death" against the insults of one of the common herd. Our first
families applaud the act, our sensitive press say it was "an unfortunate
affair," and by way of admonition, add that it were better working
people be more careful how they approach gentlemen. Mr. Snivel will call
this, the sublime quality of our chivalry. What say the jury of inquest?

Duly weighing the high position of Mr. Keepum, and the very low
condition of the deceased, the good-natured jury return a verdict that
the man met his death in consequence of an accidental blow, administered
with an iron instrument, in the hands of one Keepum. From the
testimony--Keepum's clerk--it is believed the act was committed in
self-defence.

Mr. Keepum, as is customary with our fine gentlemen, and like a hero (we
will not content ourselves with making him one jot less), magnanimously
surrenders himself to the authorities. The majesty of our laws is not
easily offended by gentlemen of standing. Only the poor and t