the saloonkeeper put her out. She used the foulest language, and with
an awful threat struck at the saloonkeeper with all her force. I then
arrested her, took her to the detention house, and locked her up." The
saloonkeeper was called to the witness stand, and said: "I know dis
voman's vas making disturbance by my saloon. She comes and she
makes troubles, und she fights mit me, und I put her de door oud. I
know her all along. She vas pad vomans." The judge turned to the
trembling woman and said: "This is a pretty clear case, madam; have
you anything to say in your defense?" "Yes, Judge," she answered,
in a strangely calm, though trembling, voice: "I am not guilty of the
charge, and these men standing before you have perjured their souls
to prevent me from telling the truth. It was they, not I, who violated
the law. I was in the saloon last Saturday night, and I will tell you
how it happened. My husband did not come home from work that
evening, and I feared he had gone to the saloon. I knew he must
have drawn his week's wages, and we needed it all so badly. I put
the little ones to bed, and then waited all alone through the weary
hours until after the city clock struck twelve. Then I thought the
saloons will be closed, and he will be put out on to the street.
Probably he will not be able to get home, and the police will arrest
him and lock him up. I must go and find him, and bring him home.
I wrapped a shawl about me and started out, leaving the little ones
asleep in bed. And, Judge, I have not seen them since." She did
not give way to tears, for the worst grief can not weep. She
continued: "I went to the saloon, where I thought most like he would
be. It was about twenty minutes after twelve; but the saloon, that
man's saloon"--pointing to the saloonkeeper, who now wanted to
crouch out of sight--"was still open, and my husband and these two
policemen were standing at the bar drinking together. I stepped up
to my husband and asked him to go home with me; but the men laughed