an outlaw. England permits the dog which barks, but not the dog which howls,—that being the distinction between the denizen of the yard and the woods. The rectors and vicars of the five parishes of Southwark called attention in their petitions to numerous parliamentary and royal statutes putting the wolf beyond the protection of the law. They moved for something like the imprisonment of Gwynplaine and the execution of the wolf, or at any rate for their banishment. The question was one of public importance, the danger to persons passing, etc. And on this point they appealed to the Faculty. They cited the opinion of the eighty physicians of London,—a learned body which dates from Henry VIII., which has a seal like that of the State, which can raise sick people to the dignity of criminals, which has the right to imprison those who infringe its laws and ignore its ordinances, and which, among other useful regulations for the welfare of citizens, establishes beyond a doubt this discovery of science; namely, if a wolf sees a man first, the man becomes hoarse for life. Besides, he may be bitten.
Homo, then, was the pretext.
Ursus heard of these designs through the inn-keeper. He was uneasy. He was afraid of the police and the justices. To be afraid of the magistracy, it suffices to be timid; there is no need to be guilty. Ursus had no desire for contact with sheriffs, provosts, bailiffs, and coroners. His eagerness to make their acquaintance amounted to nil. His curiosity to see the magistrates was about as great as the hare's to see the greyhound. He began to regret that he had come to London. "'Better' is the enemy of 'good,'" murmured he apart. "I thought there was no truth in the proverb. I was wrong. Stupid sayings seem to be true after all."
Against the coalition of powers,—merry-andrews es-
