from about the ankle to the mid-thigh. And now give him fortitude, for his hour is verily come. The incandescent lamps blazing in the death chamber testify that the great dynamo 200 yards away is ready to do the bidding of the executioner. As the condemned man enters, these lamps are turned off, and the current now brings darkness. In the middle of the room stands the chair, furnished with solid straps, and the metal cap at the back to receive the head. A few seconds and the man sits pinioned in the chair; he can move but a fraction of an inch. Behind the chair stands Davis, the executioner, who draws back the murderer's head and fits the cap over it. Not a word is heard except the chaplain's recitation of the service for the dead. When the head is made fast, and the face compressed by a band, Davis steps to the front of the chair and rapidly surveys the body straps. All is complete. The warden's signal to the executioner is scarcely percepti ble, and Davis throws the lever on the switchboard. Behind a screen another offi cial turns on the power, and the current of death flows through the rigid frame in the chair. The flesh and muscles of the mur derer suddenly swell, and the leather bind ings groan. Silence succeeds, and a doctor now comes forward to the chair. Fifty sec onds pass, and at a sign from the doctor the current ceases and the stethoscope is ap plied. Two doctors join the first; the result of their conference is reported to the warden, who makes his silent signal as before, and a second time the figure in the chair—inani mate to all appearance now—is swept by that resistless current. This time there is no re sponse. Is the victim dead? No one truly knows, but it is seemingly a corpse that falls from the loosened fastenings, and it is certainly a corpse that is laid some hours later on the di'ssecting-table. THE unfortunate position of "The Dog be fore the Courts" calls forth the following protest from The New York Latv Journal: There is a custom—more honored in the
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breach than the observance—for judges when a dog case comes into court to try to be funny. Some passable humor has been evolved, but most of the effusions are trite and flat. We respectfully suggest to the ju diciary of the land that the traditional obliga tion of writing a "comic" in every dog case be now considered fully discharged, and that from this time forth man's best animal friend, when he is haled into court, be treated with the seriousness and respect which he would demand and which really are his due. In matters of legal substance also a cava lier and inconsequential spirit has been in dulged. The dog has too often been viewed as an outlaw among domestic animals. There has been considerable casuistry and quib bling whether a dog can be considered prop erty. Some courts hold that at common law a dog does not constitute property; other courts say that he constitutes a qualified kind of property; while the courts of some of the newer States, that are least embarrassed by precedent, have inclined to look upon the dog as property in the ordinary sense. We think the latter view is the only rational one. . . . Where the courts of a State hold that dogs are not property the law should be changed by statute. There is no sound reason why the owner of a dog should not be able to re claim him by replevin, or recover damages for his conversion, or for his injury or de struction if the same occur without contribu tory negligence on the owner's part. THE Foreign Office (says the Journal of the Society of Comparative Legislation), has col lected some interesting information as to the financial support given in foreign countries from State or municipal funds to dramatic, operatic, or musical performances. There is hardly a country, it would appear, in which such aid is not given in some form or an other. France has, in Paris alone, four na tional theatres, which, in addition to occupy ing buildings rent free, receive by way of subsidy: the Opéra £32,000, the Opéra Comique £12,000, the Théâtre Francais
