for this very satisfactory arrangement, the judge, now long
since deceased, was afflicted with a serious mental trouble
which occasionally manifested itself in peculiar losses of
memory. When "Johnny Dough," the Policy King's favorite, was
arraigned at the bar and, in answer to the clerk's
interrogation, stated that he withdrew his plea of "not
guilty" and now stood ready to plead "guilty," the judge, to
the surprise and consternation of the lawyer, the defendant,
and the latter's assembled friends, turned upon him and
exclaimed:

"Ha! So you plead guilty, do you? Well, I sentence you to
the penitentiary for one year, you miserable scoundrel!"

Utterly overwhelmed, "Johnny Dough!" was led away, while his
lawyer and relatives retired to the corridor to express their
opinion of the court. About three months later the lawyer,
who had heard nothing further concerning the case, happened to
be in the office of the district attorney, when the latter
looked up with a smile and inquired:

"Well, how's your client-Mr. Dough?"

"Safe on the Island, I suppose," replied the lawyer,

"Not a bit of it," returned the district attorney. "He never
went there."

"What do you mean?" inquired the lawyer. "I heard him
sentenced to a year myself!"