The Cotton Factory Times. — 1891-10-02 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

THE OTHER.  The only other case was that of James Blossom. He blossomed out at Bijah's call, walked square up to the desk, and in a firm, decided voice he observed, "I am guilty. I got drunk on purpose. This is thq third time I've been here within six months. Make it sixty days." "So you are guilty ?" "Yes, sir. Don't let us waste any time over it, for lam hungry and want breakfast. Just put me down for a sixty and I'll be going." "Prisoner," began the court, "it seems—" Mr Blossom did not wait to hear the rest, but walked into the corridor and insisted that he was a sent-up man and wanted to leave for the Workhouse at once.  When his Honour came in Bijah had one of his boots off, and was showing his premium corn to the reporters. It is a corn which he picked up in 1863 while walking the railway track from Dearborn to Detroit to spite the Michigan Central. It has been with him every day since, making its presence felt at the least provocation. Bijah has tried 228 different oertain cures, but the only time he e7er got ahead was when an anvil fell on that toe. "What would you do for it ?" he asked, as he looked up into his Honour's face. "I'd get a pair of boots to fit me," was the reply. "Fit me Why, this pair is so loose that I can turn round in them." " sdr. Joy," said his Honour, "you are an old man. The grave will yawn for you in a few years more. You are all alone in this world, and it would seem as if you might sacrifice vanity for comfort during the remainder of your days, Don't be ashamed of the size of your feet; you were born that way, and you can't help it. Go to some shoemaker who has got a pair of No. 13 lasts, and have him make you an easy-fitting pair of boots. In two weeks you will look like it different man. In a month you will sing all day and sleep like a rhinoceros." Bijah limped into the corridor, his face a bright red and his ears working back and forth, and as he disappeared he was heard saying something about "no bigger'n other feet—altos harping—won't do no such thing; vanity be hanged."  A NISTAKE7,I  "Mary O'Donnell, you arrived here last night on a dray, i hear," was the salutation to a woman of 50, who walked out as stiff as a poker. " Yes, sir, I fear I did, but it was a mistake, your Honour." "And you were drunk." They suppcsed I was, sir, but it was a fit instead. I've had two fits a month for the last twenty-six years." " Juat previous to being arrested you had a row with your husband on the street." "I expect I previously did, sir, but that was another mistake. It was another man whom I was after—a man who looks exactly like my John." "What made you yell murder ? " "I didn't mean to, sir. I meant to cry fire, but I expect I was bewildered." "Then it was all a mistake, was it ? " "Indeed it was." " Well, there won't be any mistake about me fining you five dollars, nor any about your going up for thirty days if you don't pay the cash." "Can I send to Buffalo for the money?" "Not this morning." "Can I borrow it of Bijah ? " "He gave his last dollar to an orphan this morning." "Then I'll go up until my old man pays the fine. Good-bye, your Honour, and may you never know what it is to have fits and a drunken husband."