g in the police courts, where printable news is scarce.

On the morning following the arrest of John Rowland, three reporters,
sent by three such editors, attended a hall of justice presided over by
one of the late-rising magistrates mentioned above. In the anteroom of
this court, ragged, disfigured by his clubbing, and disheveled by his
night in a cell, stood Rowland, with other unfortunates more or less
guilty of offense against society. When his name was called, he was
hustled through a door, along a line of policemen--each of whom added to
his own usefulness by giving him a shove--and into the dock, where the
stern-faced and tired-looking magistrate glared at him. Seated in a
corner of the court-room were the old gentleman of the day before, the
young mother with little Myra in her lap, and a number of other
ladies--all excited in demeanor; and all but the young mother directing
venomous glances at Rowland. Mrs. Selfridge, pale and hollow-eyed, but
happy-faced, withal, allowed no wandering glance to rest on him.

The officer who had arrested Rowland was sworn, and testified that he
had stopped the prisoner on Broadway while making off with the child,
whose rich clothing had attracted his attention. Disdainful sniffs were
heard in the corner with muttered remarks: "Rich indeed--the idea--the
flimsiest prints." Mr. Gaunt, the prosecuting witness, was called to
testify.

"This man, your Honor," he began, excitedly, "was once a gentleman and a
frequent guest at my house. He asked for the hand of my daughter, and as
his request was not granted, threatened revenge. Yes, sir. And out on
the broad Atlantic, where he had followed my daughter in the guise of a
sailor, he attempted to murder that child--my grandchild; but was
discovered--"

"Wait," interrupted the magistrate. "Confine your testimony to the
present offense."

"Yes, your Honor. Failing in this, he stole, or enticed the little one
from its bed, and in less than five minutes the ship was wrecked, and he
must have escaped with the child in--"

"Were you a witness of this?"

"I was not there, your Honor; but we have it on the word of the first
officer, a gentleman--"

"Step down, sir. That will do. Officer, was this offense committed in
New York?"

"Yes, your Honor; I caught him meself."

"Who did he steal the child from?"

"That leddy over yonder."

"Madam, will you take the stand?"

With her child in her arms, Mrs. Selfridge was sworn and in a low