The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1876-01-06
Detroit Police Court Sketches.
STRANGE FEELINGS.

STRANGE FEELINGS.
He was an old man, too, and he was
an old man whose personal appearance
couldn't have been injured by steam
boat explosion. His name was John
Doe, and he wanted it understood that
he was the original and only John Doe
now travelling in this country.
"Well, now, as we fully understand
each other" remarked the court, u" let
us refer to that little affair of yours
last night"
81 believe 1 am dying?'' said Mr.:
Doe as he screwed his mouth around
and raised his hand to his heart.
81 guess not-you look healthy and
fat. Please answer to the charge, Mr..
Doe"
81 feel strange-the room whirls-I
am not myself" whispered the prison
er.
"Nlr. Doe, wish you would put in a
plea"
ooh! death! where is thy stingP"
sighed the prisoner.
I'm make it thirty days for you, Mr..
Doe, and if you feel faint Bijah will
give you his smelling bottle"
Biiah led him away and wanted him
to smell the hartshorn, but the prisoner
suddenly regained his health and said
to the old janitor:
"Bijah Joy, can lick forty such old
horse-plums as you are in five minutes
by the watch"
A SONGsTRESS.
Lucy Ellis wasn't rugged out in Sara
toga style, yet she demeaned herself as
secame lady of education and intelli-
gence. She made an impressive bow
as she stood before the desk and smooth
ing down her rumpled check apron she
wiped her nose and remarked:
"Great change in the weather since
last July"
"Prisoneress at the bar, you are
charged with throwing n pop-bottle
through the window of a corner groce-
~, and then trying to throw box of
soap out of the same window, all of
which disturbed the peace and raised a
great row."
81 am the Queen of song, Mr.. JUS
tice,' she replied, bowling again. 81 can
sing any thing, from one of Mozart's
farm ballads to one of Joaquin Miller's
operate airs"
"This isn't singing-bee, Miss Ellis,
but you are on trial for disturbing the
peace and quietness of a refined neigh
bOrhOod on Atwater Street. Have you
any thing to say?'
II am now organizing a musical
troupe, and l hope you'll forgive me, ="
she replied.
81 can't help your troupe business.
I can't have any such rows as you got up
last night"
"And you ought to hear me sing 'Old
Log Cabin in the Lane Judge. don't
put on any of these high airs when |
sing"
'tYou can sing for the amusement of
your fellow-prisoners in the House of
Correction. I'll make it two months"
81 will now proceed to sing that beau
tiful song called Sitting in the Gar
den, she replied, but before she could
do so Bijah had her sitting on the saw
horse, and soon after that he came out
with the marks of her singer nails on his
hands.
HIS STRIKES.
sIs this New York, Detroit, Chicago
or Buffalo?" inquired the next prisoner,
looking around as if his mind was I'M
settled.
"This place, Andrew Bate, is De-
troit," replied his Honor, as he softly
scratched his head sit is city of no.
600 people, nicely situated, contains a
great many honest men, and is chiefly
noted for the great ease and fuency with
which its hack-drivers tell man to go
to Texas"
"Wen, 1 struck this town in the
night" continued the prisoner, ''and l
hadn't been here an hour before a loaf
er struck me-"
''Did you strike back?"
"Yes, sir, and then l struck out to get
away from the police.n
"But the officers struck your trail, and
you were brought in, and here you are, "
said his Honor.
cit strikes me that you are correct, "
smiled the prisoner.
"Well, we will strike off on new
trail. Iwant to ask what you are do
ing here without money in your wallet?''
81 thought I'd come here and wait
around, Judge"
"For what?"
"For any thing"
Micawber never lived here" said
the Court. "There's nothing to turn
up here. You might wait around here
a hundred years and couldn't get soft
and easy situation, such as you probably
seek"
"I'd like to get to be clerk in the
post-office," said the prisoner.
"Have you ever filled such a posi-
tion?"
"No, sir, but I've written a great
many letters and bought good many
postage stamps"
Sup there where you are going for
three months,'' said his Honor, after a
painful pause, "there will be no wait
ing, not even for dinner. Days will
pass swiftly by, and the June blossoms
will be winking at the green cowslips
before you know it,
"Hang your cowslips!" groaned the
prisoner.
Nevertheless, Mr.. Bate, it is my
duty to A. Bate yOu," answered the
Court, 3D." and 1 hope you will return to
the corridor quietly, peacefully and
without giving Bijah any unnecessary
trouble"
The prisoner had to be hauled in by
his collar and held up against the wall
for few minutes, but when reason re-
turned he said he was thankful that he
hadn't been hit with the crow-bar, as
he knew he deserved to be.-Detroit
Free Press.