Mr. Keepum coolly looks up, and with an insidious leer, says, “There, take yourself into the street.  When next you enter a gentleman’s office, learn to deport yourself with good manners.”

“Pshaw! pshaw!” interrupts the man.  “What mockery!  When men like you-yes, I say men like you-that has brought ruin on so many poor families, can claim to be gentlemen, rogues may get a patent for their order.”  The man turns to take his departure, when the infuriated Keepum, who, as we have before described, gets exceedingly put out if any one doubts his honor, seizes an iron bar, and stealing up behind, fetches him a blow over the head that fells him lifeless to the floor.

Maria shrieks, and vaults into the street.  The mass upon the floor fetches a last agonizing shrug, and a low moan, and is dead.  The murderer stands over him, exultant, as the blood streams from the deep fracture.  In fine, the blood of his victim would seem rather to increase his satisfaction at the deed, than excite a regret.

Call you this murder?  Truly, the man has outraged God’s law.  And the lover of law and order, of social good, and moral honesty, would find reasons for designating the perpetrator an assassin.  For has he not first distressed a family, and then left it bereft of its protector?  You may think of it and designate it as you please.  Nevertheless we, in our fancied mightiness, cannot condescend to such vulgar considerations.  We esteem it extremely courageous of Mr. Keepum, to defend himself “to the death” against the insults of one of the common herd.  Our first families applaud the act, our sensitive press say it was “an unfortunate affair,” and by way of admonition, add that it were better working people be more careful how they approach gentlemen.  Mr. Snivel will call this, the sublime quality of our chivalry.  What say the jury of inquest?

Duly weighing the high position of Mr. Keepum, and the very low condition of the deceased, the good-natured jury return a verdict that the man met his death in consequence of an accidental blow, administered with an iron instrument, in the hands of one Keepum.  From the testimony-Keepum’s clerk-it is believed the act was committed in self-defence.

Mr. Keepum, as is customary with our fine gentlemen, and like a hero (we will not content ourselves with making him one jot less), magnanimously surrenders himself to the authorities.  The majesty of our laws is not easily offended by gentlemen of standing.  Only the poor and the helpless slave can call forth the terrible majesty of the law, and quicken to action its sensitive quality.  The city is shocked that Mr. Keepum is subjected to a night in jail, notwithstanding he has the jailer’s best parlor, and a barricade of champaign bottles are strewn at his feet by flattering friends, who make night jubilant with their carousal.