Thomas Y. seized the opportunity and
made two steals. He first stole the fid
dle and then out doors. He was soon
heard of up the street. Seated on a
door-step he tuned his fiddle and sang :
Strike the harp gently.
In mem'ry o' those
Who frost-bit their ears
And frozen their nose.
The man of the bouse eame to the
door and said he'd strike Thomas Y.
and his riddle, too, if they didn't light
out, and they lit. At the next house
the ma had the toothache, and he was
lust thinking who he'd kill when the
fiddle struck up and the song began :
" My love ia on the deep, blue sea,
' She's gone far, far amy ;
My heart ia sad "
He had reached that point when the
man with the toothache opened the
door aud laid hold of him. For one
brief moment the air was black with
Thomas Y. and his stolen fiddle and
his deep, blue sea, and the next there
was not even a note or a groan. Then
the man from whom the fiddle was
stolen came up and rolled the stealer in
the snow, and pulled bis hair and
pounded him, and thus ended chapter
first.
"Is It a crime for a citizen of this
country to love muster" Inquired the
prisoner as the testimony was all in.
"The man who steals a fiddle and
then forces his music on the suffering
public is a law-breaker," replied the
court.
"Beethoven stole fiddles," protested
the prisoner.
"Well, he didn't play them in De
troit." "Mozart went out serenading," con
tinued Thomas Y.
