allowed to run free is of all critters the wretchedest.  This houn’s neck is rubbed raw.  God only knows what he’s suffered in mind an’ body.  A man that would treat a dog that way ain’t fitten to own one.  An’ I hereby notify you that, on the evidence of this boy, an’ the evidence before our eyes, I will indict you for breakin’ the law regardin’ the treatment of animals; an’ I notify you, furthermore, that as magistrate I’ll put the law on you for that same thing.  An’ it might be interestin’ to you to know, sir, that I can find you as much as five hundred dollars, or send you to jail for one year, or both, if I see fit—­an’ there ain’t no tellin’ but what I will see fit, sir.”

He looked sternly at Thornycroft.

“Now I’m goin’ to make a proposition that I advise you to jump at like you never jumped at anything before.  If you will give up that houn’ Buck—­to me, say, or to anybody I decide will be kind to him—­I will let the matter drop.  If you will go home like a peaceable citizen, you won’t hear no more about it from me; but if you don’t—­”

“Git out of my way!” cried Old Man Thornycroft.  “All of you!  I’m goin’—­I’m goin’!”

“Hold on!” said Mr. Kirby, when he had got almost to the door.  “Do you, in the presence of these witnesses, turn over this dog to me, relinquishin’ all claims to him, on the conditions named?  Answer Yes or No?”

There was a moment’s silence; then the old man cried out: 

“Take the old hound!  He ain’t wuth the salt in his vittles!”

He jerked the door open.

“Yes or no?” called Mr. Kirby inexorably.

“Yes!” yelled the old man, and slammed the door behind him.

“One minute, gentlemen,” said Mr. Kirby, rising from the table and gathering his papers and records together.  “Just one more thing:  If anybody here has any evidence, or knows of any, tendin’ to show that this boy Davy Allen is not the proper person to turn over a houn’ dog to, I hope he will speak up.”  He waited a moment.  “In the absence of any objections, an’ considerin’ the evidence that’s been given here this mornin’, I think I’ll just let that dog go back the way he come.  Thank you, gentlemen.  Court’s adjourned!”

PORCELAIN CUPS

BY JAMES BRANCH CABELL

From Century Magazine

I

OF GREATNESS INTIMATELY VIEWED

“Oh, but they are beyond praise,” said Cynthia Allonby, enraptured, “and certainly you should have presented them to the Queen.”

“Her majesty already possesses a cup of that ware,” replied Lord Pevensey.  “It was one of her New Year’s gifts, from Robert Cecil.  Hers is, I believe, not quite so fine as either of yours; but then, they tell me, there is not the like of this pair in England, nor indeed on the hither side of Cataia.”

He set the two pieces of Chinese pottery upon the shelves in the south corner of the room.  These cups were of that sea-green tint called celadon, with a very wonderful glow and radiance.  Such oddities were the last vogue at court in this year of grace 1593:  and Cynthia could not but speculate as to what monstrous sum Lord Pevensey had paid for this his last gift to her.