In reward of faithful political service an ambitious saloon keeper was appointed police magistrate.
“What’s the charge ag’in this man?” he inquired when the first case was called.
“Drunk, yer honor,” said the policeman.
The newly made magistrate frowned upon the trembling defendant.
“Guilty, or not guilty?” he demanded.
“Sure, sir,” faltered the accused, “I never drink a drop.”
“Have a cigar, then,” urged his honor persuasively, as he absently polished the top of the judicial desk with his pocket handkerchief.