swered
Rowland, haughtily--too haughtily, by far.

"Ye believe--but ye don't know. Come back into the shtore, me tourist,
and we'll see who ye shtole it from."

"Very well, officer; I can prove possession." They started back, the
officer with his hand on Rowland's collar, and were met at the door by a
party of three or four people coming out. One of this party, a young
woman in black, uttered a piercing shriek and sprang toward them.

"Myra!" she screamed. "Give me my baby--give her to me."

She snatched the child from Rowland's shoulder, hugged it, kissed it,
cried, and screamed over it; then, oblivious to the crowd that
collected, incontinently fainted in the arms of an indignant old
gentleman.

"You scoundrel!" he exclaimed, as he flourished his cane over Rowland's
head with his free arm. "We've caught you. Officer, take that man to the
station-house. I will follow and make a charge in the name of my
daughter."

"Then he shtole the kid, did he?" asked the policeman.

"Most certainly," answered the old gentleman, as, with the assistance of
the others, he supported the unconscious young mother to a carriage.
They all entered, little Myra screaming for Rowland from the arms of a
female member of the party, and were driven off.

"C'm an wi' me," uttered the officer, rapping his prisoner on the head
with his club and jerking him off his feet.

Then, while an approving crowd applauded, the man who had fought and
conquered a hungry polar bear was dragged through the streets like a
sick animal by a New York policeman. For such is the stultifying effect
of a civilized environment.

CHAPTER XV

In New York City there are homes permeated by a moral atmosphere so
pure, so elevated, so sensitive to the vibrations of human woe and
misdoing, that their occupants are removed completely from all
consideration of any but the spiritual welfare of poor humanity. In
these homes the news-gathering, sensation-mongering daily paper does not
enter.

In the same city are dignified magistrates--members of clubs and
societies--who spend late hours, and often fail to arise in the morning
in time to read the papers before the opening of court.

Also in New York are city editors, bilious of stomach, testy of speech,
and inconsiderate of reporters' feelings and professional pride. Such
editors, when a reporter has failed, through no fault of his own, in
successfully interviewing a celebrity, will sometimes send him
news-gatherin