Savannah Courier

In Vengeful Mood.
An Injured Woman Who Couldn't Find Punishment Severe Enough for Her Husband.

The woman stepped inside the station house door and stood looking around the room. It was a pleasant morning, the windows were open, admitting a refreshing breeze, and the trees in front cast a cooling shade over the front of the building. The place seemed more like the comfortable office of a wayside inn than a city police station. The official behind the desk took off his cap and bowed, for the lady was not such as he was wont to receive there. She came over within conventional conversation distance and bowed slightly to the official, says the Washington Star.

"This is the police station house, isn't it?" she inquired.

"Yes, madam," replied the officer.

"This is where they bring prisoners when they arrest them, isn't it?"

"Yes, madam."

"Do you keep them here until you are through with them?"

"Oh, no; we lock them up in the cell room."

"Indeed! May I see that?"

"Certainly, madam," and the polite official, bowing, escorted his strange visitor through the heavy door into the cell room.

It was empty and still and clean, and the fresh air of the morning had got in and made it most attractive in its cool cleanness. She looked around for a minute or more.

"Do you shut the prisoners in those iron cages?" she asked.

"Yes, madam."

"What do you feed them?"

"We don't feed them. We do not keep them here long enough for that."

"Where do they sleep?"

"On the benches you see in the cells."

"How do you punish them?"

"We don't punish them at all. That is not our part of the business."

She looked surprised.

"Don't you put irons on them, or gag them, or douse them in ice water, or put them in straightjackets, or tie them up by the thumbs, or whip them with a cat-and-nine-tails, or shut them in a dark room, or something like that?"

"Certainly not, madam," and it was the official's turn to be surprised.

"That is all," she said, and started for the other room again. Once there, she stood by the desk again.

"I have a husband," she said, meditatively, rather than didactically, "who comes home about five nights a week drunk and disorderly, and I was thinking of having him arrested, as I have stood it about as long as I can."

"You ought to do it, madam, if he is ugly," suggested the official.

"He is ugly," she said, with emphasis.

"Then have him arrested."

"No," she said, as she started to leave; "no, I guess I won't. I am much obliged to you for your politeness, but this is altogether too good for him."