Watch George Pond. He may soon become a centenarian. Not
in years ; he is twenty-nine years off the century yet. Not in total convictions, for he is up to I r o in them already. But last week Mr. Pond, who had been charged ninety-eight times for travelling on the Great Western Railway without a ticket, was charged for the 99th time at Reading—and sent to prison for a month. We shall not therefore hear of him again for the moment. But it would be a thousand pities to miss the century now. I would almost undertake to pay his fine—even though it made me an accessory before the fact— but he evidently no longer gets the option of a fine. Mr. Pond has no fixed abode (except for the next month), so he can hardly claim that he had to get home at any cost—or none. He observed in Court that it was a regrettable recurrence. The re- seems right. * * * *
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