Chapter II: Part 2

Miss Julia's "silks and satins" gave manifest proof that she had not been able to keep her feet; and, as she had nothing but tears to offer in her defence, she was adjudged to be drunken and disorderly, and ordered to find sureties for her better behaviour in future.

AN EVENING'S PLEASURE.

A schoolmaster of Greenwich, an apothecary of Plymouth, and a London sheriff's-officer,--"three good fellows and true," were brought before the bench, charged with having "shown off" a little too much in the pit of the Olympic Theatre.

Their situation in the office, when the magistrate took his seat on the bench, was thus:--The sheriff's-officer dead drunk on the floor of the outer passage; the apothecary dead drunk on the benches within the office; and the schoolmaster very drunk, but very sprightly withal, upon his legs before the magisterial table. Then as to their personal condition:--the sheriff's-officer had only half a coat--the entire sinister side having been torn away vertically; and he was moreover so grievously bedaubed with blood about the face, that his features were indistinguishable. The apothecary had his garments entire, but the exterior case of his olfactory apparatus was marvellously swollen and distorted--more like the budding proboscis of an infant elephant, than the nose of a Christian compounder of medicine. The schoolmaster's countenance was like that of his friend, the sheriff's-officer, excessively bloody; and his left eye was closed by a large blue and green tumour--from an orifice in the centre of which the _claret_ flowed continually towards the corner of his mouth, as if in mockery of the bumpers that had brought him before the bench.

As to their achievements, it appeared by the evidence of sundry theatrical prompters, scene-shifters, firemen, constables, and deputy-constables, that they entered the theatre arm in arm, with each a flaming cigar in his mouth. That they had no sooner got within the pit than they began to shout lustily for the music. That the music not answering to their shouts the schoolmaster rushed gallantly forward over the heads of the more un-Corinthian part of the audience--to the infinite detriment of sundry Leghorn and other bonnets--and clearing the barrier of the orchestra, at one audacious leap he dashed into the regions beneath the stage in search of the musicians. That he was thence expelled by the united efforts of supernumeraries attached to the concern; and that, as the said supernumeraries of the concern attempted to get him back over the barrier of the orchestra, the sheriff's-officer and the apothecary scrambled forward to his assistance, and prevented his being so put back with all their might. That a general fight ensued--that many people left the theatre in dismay--that others who were entering refused to complete their _entree_--that at length the riotous _trio_ were got over by dint of numbers--that they were carried to this office--and that the manager was positively determined to prosecute!

To all this the schoolmaster was the only one of the three who could say anything in reply; but then he was a host in himself. He, as in duty bound by the nature of his calling, was the "_Logic_" of the "_spree_;" but unfortunately his logical powers were mystified with old port and beating, and he could make little or nothing of it. He began his defence with three distinct emissions of the fumes of the old Port above-mentioned, and then told the magistrate how they were all three Devonshire men, and old friends, who had met for an evening's pleasure, after a long and tedious separation--how the apothecary had never been in London in all his life before, and had been let into a secret by that night's adventure--how he himself had taken his tea before he set out from Greenwich to meet the apothecary--how the apothecary dined, and how he did not--how they met with the sheriff's-officer--how they got drunk at the Shades at London Bridge, at the expense of the apothecary--how they got more drunk in Fleet-street, at the expense of himself (the schoolmaster)--and how they got drunk in the superlative degree, "somewhere hereabouts"--how somebody gave them orders for the Olympic--how they went there, and found the pit as silent as the grave--how they called for music, and no music came--how the schoolmaster dashed into the _cellar_ in search of the _fiddlers_, but couldn't find any--how the folks felt themselves offended at his interference--how a devil of a row ensued--how he might have escaped, but scorned to do so--how they were finally captured--and how they were vastly sorry for all of it.

Lots of conversation ensued upon these premises, and the manager, after two or three private conferences, declared himself satisfied, but the magistrate said he was not. "If poor men," said his worship, "were brought before me, charged with such mischievous absurdities, they would be inevitably sent to prison, unless they could find bail; and I will not suffer others to escape, because they may have certain means of satisfying those they injure."

So the schoolmaster and the sheriff's-officer were held to bail for their appearance at the sessions; and the apothecary was suffered to return to his disconsolate family _unscathed_, because he had not been quite so obstreperous as his companions.

A LAMPLIGHTER'S FUNERAL.

An elderly matron, one Mrs. Bridget Foggarty--the lady of an operative architect (_vulgo_ a bricklayer) was charged with having wantonly assaulted a patrol, whilst in the execution of his duty.

It seems that a deceased lamplighter was interred, the evening before, in St. Pancras' burying ground, with much funeral pomp--there being more than two hundred of his brother _illuminati_ present, each bearing a flaming torch in celebration of his obsequies. This, it was said, is the universal mode of lighting a lamplighter to "that bourne from whence no traveller returns," and, of course, the spectacle attracted crowds of people. Wherever crowds of people are collected, there the patrol very properly repair, to prevent disorder: and the officer in question was there for that meritorious purpose, when Mrs. Bridget Foggarty abruptly gave him a slap on the cheek with her own right hand--that hand being all begrimed with tar, in consequence of her having held one of the half-melted funeral torches while the bearer of it took a little of _Deady's_ consolatory[12] on his way back from the mournful ceremonies.

This was the assault complained of; but the officer said he did not wish to be hard with Mrs. Foggarty; neither would he have taken her into custody, had not the surrounding multitude echoed the blow with such a shout of exultation as gave the lady a very evident intention of repeating it.

Mrs. Bridget Foggarty, when asked by the magistrate what she had to say for herself, wept audibly, and assured his worship that she took the gentleman for a friend of her husband's, or she never should have taken such a liberty as that 'ere. She declared that it was not _tar_ upon her hand, but _soot_--plain, ordinary soot, "off of a chimney-sweeper;" and, if his worship pleased, she would tell him all about it.

His worship did not object, and she proceeded to state that she had been to see her husband, then lying ill in the hospital; that on her return, she went to see the lamplighter's burying, and that the folks were all very merry, "and quite _larkish_ in a manner;" that being curious to see what sort of a coffin it was, she _skrouged_ herself through the mob till she reached the brink of the grave, and she had no sooner done so, than the mob pushed a chimney-sweeper into it, and pushed her atop of him; and that was the way her hands were blacked.

The magistrate told her he thought her visit to her sick husband should have disposed her more seriously, than to be mingling in such a disgraceful scene; and desired her to go home, and conduct herself more decently in future.

Mrs. Foggarty was very thankful for the lenity shown to her, and departed courtesying and drying her eyes.

LATE HOURS AND OYSTERS.

Two gentlemen of pretty considerable respectability--one tall, and the other short--were charged with having assaulted the watch; and no fewer than five "ancient and quiet watchmen" appeared, to testify against them.

Dennis Mack was the first in order. He said he found the two gentlemen at the door of the oyster shop in New-street, Covent-garden, between one and two o'clock in the morning, kicking up a great row with a hackney-coach and two ladies. He told them to go home to bed, and not be making such a bother as all that, when the short one laid hold of his staff, and tried to twist it out of his hand, whereupon he sprung his rattle for assistance, &c.

Thomas Robinson was the next. He was a smart, upright, _Corporal Trim_-like sort of a watchman, and his discourse was somewhat "stuffed with epithets of war." He heard the _rattle-call_ of his _comrade_, and _advanced_ to his _relief_--he made his _approaches_ with caution in order to _reconnoitre_ the party--having so done, he challenged the offenders to _surrender_, and received the point-blank charge of a fist in his belly--saving his worship's presence.

"What are you?" asked the magistrate, struck by the novelty of his phraseology.

"I have been a soldier, your honour," he replied; "but since I was discharged from the army, I have endeavoured to fulfil the part of a cobbler."

Patrick Donaghue, a six-foot Emerald Islander, with an astonishing perpendicular expansion of countenance, was the third in order. He heard the _hubbuboo_ as he was _paceably_ walking his _bate_, and went, right on end, to _larn_ the rights of it; and the biggest of the two--without saying "by yer _lave_,"--took him a mighty _dacent_ stroke over the _jaws_.

Two other watchmen followed; but, as they said, they only came in at the tail of the _row_, and therefore they did not see the beginning of it. However, they bore testimony to the extreme repugnance of the gentlemen to go to the watch-house.

The gentlemen were now called upon for their defence, and the short one undertook the task of making it. It appeared that he and his tall friend were out so late _because_ they were eating _oysters_, consequently the oysters were solely to blame, as far as late hours were concerned. Then, as they were coming out of the oyster-shop, they found two _ladies_, who also had been up stairs eating oysters, sitting in a hackney coach at the door. There was nothing extraordinary in this; but somehow or other the coachman had got it into his head that these two unlucky gentlemen had ordered the coach for the use of the ladies, then comfortably sitting therein, and of course he looked to them for the fare. The _ladies_ themselves encouraged the coachman in this "iniquitous idea," and seemed to enjoy it very much; but our oyster-eaters were not to be had in this way. They _re_-sisted the "abominable demand," the coachman _per_-sisted, the ladies laughed, the watch came up, and the oyster eaters were hauled off to durance, most unjustly. As to the blow on the belly, the _dacent_ stroke on the jaws, &c., they denied all that sort of thing _in toto_.

They were nevertheless held to bail for their appearance at the sessions; and, doubtless, should they ever be taken with an oyster fit again, they will try to get it over earlier.

SUPPING OUT.

Messrs. Theodore Planque (a very tall gentleman), Hugh Jackson (a very short one), and Robert Thomas Huff (neither tall nor short, but, as it were, between both), and a _bamboo cane_, almost as long and large as a little scaffold-pole, were brought before the magistrates from the subterraneous saloons of St. Martin's watch-house, charged with dreadful doings among the _Charleys_.[13]

It appeared by the statements _pro_ and _con._, that the prisoners are very respectable people, and that on Friday night they went to sup with an unquestionably highly respectable tradesman in Long-acre. This supper was given on the occasion of his brother, who is a captain in the navy, having returned from a long and perilous voyage; and, of course, on such an extraordinary occasion, they drank deeper than ordinary. It is really surprising what a quantity of thirsty sentiments an occasion of this kind gives rise to. At last the tall gentleman--or, as one of the watchmen called him, "the _long_ one"--was found stretched out at his length on the pavement before the door, completely done up. It was a _charley_ who found him, and a very honest charley too, as times go; but whilst he was endeavouring to gather him up, the short gentleman came behind and floored poor charley himself, with the great _bamboo_, above mentioned. He was soon up again, however--though, as he said, he never was floored by such a queer thing in his life before, nor half so _clanely_. Once on his legs again, round went his rattle, and in half-a-dozen seconds up came half-a-dozen of his brethren. The short gentleman with his bamboo, seeing this, laid about him lustily--ribs, canisters,[14] or lanterns, it was all one to him. But "who can control his fate?" or what can one single arm do against a dozen? He was _bundled_ up, or enveloped as it were, in a _posse_ of _charleys_, all in full _tog_, enough to smother up a Hercules; and after some little ineffectual sprunting, he, and "the long one," and the "middle-sized one," and the great bamboo, were all safely lodged in the watch-house; where the long one, having shaken off his drunken slumbers, committed divers outrageous assaults upon the night constable and his men, as they were putting them down into the cellars.

In their defence before the magistrate, they admitted the drunkenness, but denied the violence; and begged his worship to believe that it was "entirely a case of _simple intoxication_."

The magistrate ordered the long one to find bail upon four distinct assaults; the short one to find bail upon two distinct assaults; and the middle-sized one was discharged on payment of his fees.

A GREAT MAN IN DISTRESS.

A personage, who described himself as "General Sarsfield Lucan, Viscount Kilmallock in Ireland, a peer of France, and a descendant of Charlemagne," presented himself before the magistrates to solicit a few shillings to enable him to proceed on important business to Wexford.

General Sarsfield Lucan wore an old brown surtout, with the collar turned up behind to keep his neck warm, and a scrap of dirty white ribbon fastened to one of the button-holes; a black velvet waistcoat, powdered with tarnished silver _fleurs-de-lis_, and an ancient well-worn _chapeau bras_, surmounted with a fringe of black feathers. He carried under his arm a large roll of writings, and all his pockets were stuffed with tin cases, pocket-books, and bundles of papers: his "fell of hair" was ruefully matted; an enormous tawny whisker covered either cheek and his upper lip and chin,--which, for want of shaving, "showed like a stubble-field at harvest home,"--was all begrimed with real Scotch.

He said he was a native of Wexford in Ireland, and had spent the last seven years in Paris, where his cousin, Louis XVIII., nominated him a peer, and gave him a decoration (the bit of white ribbon above mentioned); but his instalment had been postponed by the then recent change in the ministry; his cousin (Louis XVIII.) assuring him, that as soon as his present ministers were kicked out, he should come in. In the meantime his father had died, and willed him certain lands and houses in Wexford; whereupon he wrote to his sisters, who were resident there, to desire them to send him the proceeds of his estates forthwith; but instead of so doing, they had themselves administered to the will, and were dissipating his patrimony. Under these circumstances, his cousin, the king, advised him to set out immediately for Ireland, and seek redress in person. "Journeying with this intent," he landed at Dover a few days before, but on reaching London he found his finances exhausted, and he was now driven to the unpleasant necessity of applying to their worships for a few shillings, to enable him to proceed.

Sir R. Birnie said, he wondered his royal cousin had not furnished him with the means of prosecuting his journey.

"Sir! I scorned to trouble him at all on such a _palthry_ subject as money," replied the general, with some warmth; and he then went on to state, that in order to satisfy his coach-hire from Dover to London, he had been necessitated to give up possession of his working tools.

"Your _working tools_!" said the magistrate; "and pray may I ask what trade your lordship follows?"

"No trade in the world at all," replied the general; "I am not the person to be after following trades.--The tools I am _spaking_ about are what I used in some of the greatest inventions the world ever saw. I invented a _happaratus_ for extracting stone and gravel from the _blather_, without any operation at all. I invented a machine for fishing up vessels foundered at sea, as _aisy_ as fishing up an oyster; and I invented another machine for making _accouchement_ the most _aisy_ thing in existence--a mere _fla-bite_ to the most tender lady imaginable! And it was partly these inventions, indeed, that brought me to this country now--because I did not choose to be giving foreigners the benefit of them."

"Pray, Sir," said Mr. Minshull, "will you give me leave to ask whether you were ever confined?"

The General--"_Confined!_ for what would I be confined?"

Mr. Minshull--"If you do not understand the nature of my question, I am sorry I put it; but it certainly appeared to me possible that----"

The General--"Sir, you appear to me to be after _taalking_ in a very queer kind of a way to a _jontleman_! You ought to know what is due to a respectable and _graat_ man, even though he is in distress."

Mr. Minshull--"Well, Sir, I will speak as plainly to you as you do to me. It is my opinion, and the opinion, I believe, of every person present, that you are out of your mind; and that if you have never been confined, it is high time you were so."

The General angrily declared he was altogether _mens sana in corpore sano_; and professed himself astonished that any body should entertain a contrary opinion; then taking from his side-pocket a round tin case, nearly as large as a demi-culverin, he offered to produce from it documents to show that he was really the important personage he professed himself to be.

The magistrates, however, had no faith in the matter; they told him it might be all very true, but they had no funds to assist him with; and, as he appeared very incredulous on this subject, they at length ordered him to withdraw upon pain of being committed to prison under the Vagrant Act.

This was an awful alternative, which the gallant "General" did not think proper to risk; so gathering up his patents and papers, he put his feather-fringed _chapeau_ upon his head, and taking an ample pinch of snuff--so ample, indeed, that it rushed through his olfactory labyrinth with the noise of a mighty cataract--he stalked majestically out of the office, muttering anathemas as he went.

MRS. WILLIAMS'S PETTICOAT.

This was a proceeding under the Pawnbrokers' Act, by which Mrs. Priscilla Williams sought to recover a compensation in damages for the loss of certain property pledged with a Mr. Simmons.

Mrs. Priscilla Williams is a bouncing buxom belle, of five-and-thirty or thereabouts, who, having occasion to raise the sum of eighteen-pence on some sudden emergency, was fain to carry her best black bombasine petticoat--or _bum-be-seen_ petticoat, as she called it--to Mr. Simmons, of Seven Dials, a diminutive elder, who gathereth profit unto himself daily, by lending to the poor: in common _parlance_, a pawnbroker; or, poetically speaking, "_My Uncle!_" This Mr. Simmons received the petticoat; held it up to the light; observed that "it might well be called a _bum-be-seen_ petticoat, for the moths had riddled[15] it sadly;" and finally, he lent the money required; but when she applied to redeem the petticoat, he told her it was lost, and refused to make her any compensation for it.

Mr. Simmons, in his defence, admitted having received the petticoat, and also having lost it; but he declared Mrs. Priscilla Williams had deluged him with abominable abuse; and he humbly submitted that the said abuse ought to go as a set-off against the lost petticoat.

Mrs. Priscilla Williams protested against any such settlement as that. She readily admitted having "blown Mr. Simmons up a bit," and she thought he richly deserved it; for he d----d her and her petticoat too, in the most _notoriousest_ way imaginable:--"I shouldn't have minded his d----g me," she added, "because it couldn't hurt me, but I thought it extremely _ongenteel_ in him to d----n my _petticoat_."

The magistrate ordered that Mr. Simmons should pay the value of the petticoat, with full costs of suit.

"INCHING IT BACKERT."

Two apprentice boys in the service of a very respectable tradesman in Museum-street, together with a little _night-walker_ were charged by an Irish watchman with kicking up a great big row and clatter, at Charing-cross, at half-past twelve o'clock in the morning; and, what was still worse, with laughing _at_, and using bad words _to_ the said watchman, when he very civilly told them to "be off of his bate;" and "moreover and above, with _inching_ it _backert_ in the teeth of him."

"And pray what is '_inching_ it _backert_?'" asked his worship.

"Fait, your honour, an' this it is"--replied honest Mahoney, shuffling his feet backwards, inch by inch.

His worship observed, that he had never heard the verb "_inching_" used before, and therefore he had asked for an explanation. "I suppose you conjugate it '_I inch--thou inchest--he inches_,' don't you, Mr. Mahoney?"

"Your honour knows the rights of every thing," replied Mr. Mahoney; and the case proceeded.

It appeared that the two lads had obtained leave of their master to go home for clean linen, and had taken that opportunity of taking a twelvepenny peep at the wonders of Astley's Amphitheatre; and that, in their return to their master's house, they were _picked_ up by the little _night-walker_; that she, being known to Mr. Mahoney as "a noisy customer," he told her to go off and leave the lads alone; whereupon she _trated_ Mr. Mahoney with some abuse, and the lads taking her part, they were all three carried to the watch-house.

The worthy magistrate read them an excellent lesson on the impropriety of their conduct, and prevailed upon their master to forgive them. This done, they were discharged; and the lady was sent to Bridewell--she being well known as most depraved and disorderly.

MR. HUMPHREY BRUMMEL AND TERENCE O'CONNOR.

Mr. Humphrey Brummel, a tall, gaunt old gentleman, of pedagogue-ish exterior, with each particular hair standing on end, like quills upon the fretful porcupine, was charged by Mr. Terence O'Connor, a Covent-garden watchman, with having been _extramely_ disorderly under the _pehazies_ (piazzas) during the night.

The magistrate inquired as to the nature of his disorderliness, and Mr. Terence O'Connor explained it to be--"_spaching_ to the lads, and _frullishing_ his stick about like a merry Andrew." It also appeared that he continued these eccentricities from midnight till four in the morning, "_clane_ contrary to all sorts of _dacency_;" and therefore Mr. Terence O'Connor lodged him in the watch-house.

Mr. Humphrey Brummel in his defence said, he took shelter under the Piazza from the inclemency of the weather: and it was very possible that, whilst there, he might have endeavoured to cheer the loneliness of the hour by an audible repetition of some appropriate passages from the poets. But he was totally unconscious of offence, and he solemnly declared that instead of "_spaching_ to the lads," he stationed himself in a door-way far apart from every living soul; and had not Mr. Terence O'Connor been so over officious, he should have gone quietly to his bed, and his worship would not have been put to the pain of listening to such a frivolous charge.

"An' please your worship," exclaimed Mr. Terence O'Connor, "he says he's got a _nact_ of _Parlyment_ in his pocket, what'll lay me by the heels, an' I hope your worship will make him _prove his words_!"

"I will do my best," replied his worship, smiling, and at the same time asking Mr. Brummel what Act of Parliament he alluded to.

"Lord love you, sir," replied the tall old man, "I never alluded to any Act of Parliament; but I did threaten to report him to your worship for sleeping on his post."

"Is it true, O'Connor, that you really do sleep whilst on duty?" asked his worship.

"_Ounly_ that time I got no sleep in the day," replied the night guardian, blushing as intensely as a fresh-washed Munster potato.

"You are both fool and knave, Mr. O'Connor," observed his worship--"a _knave_ for sleeping when you are paid to keep awake, and a _fool_ for wantonly bringing this complaint against yourself."

Mr. Humphrey Brummel was then discharged without a fee; and Mr. Terence O'Connor was dismissed with an assurance that his _watching_ should be _watched_ in future, and that he should be suspended if caught napping.

CUPID IN CHAMBERS.

A pretty little aquiline-faced, "gazelle-eyed" damsel, was brought in by one of the St. Clement Danes' constables, charged with creating a riot in the chambers of Mr. Snuggs, of Clement's Inn.

Master Constable knew nothing of the alleged riot, save and except what Mr. Snuggs had told him; and so he was ordered to stand aside; but Mr. Snuggs himself told a long and lamentable story of the sufferings he had endured from the fair prisoner. He had originally engaged her as a servant to attend to the domestic department at his chambers; but she took advantage of his _partiality_ for her services, and made the chambers too hot to hold him, as it were;--she disturbed his studies by her loquacity; she lived intemperately; she set him at defiance; she got her relations to help her to persecute him; and, if he only attempted to remonstrate with her, she raised the whole neighbourhood about his ears! He concluded by expressing a hope that his worship would put a stop to her doings.

The magistrate thought there must be something very strange in all this; for what man of any spirit would suffer the serenity of his chambers and his mind to be so disturbed by a little gipsy of an Abigail, "when he himself might his _quietus_ make with a bare _warning_." He therefore put a question, or two, to Mr. Snuggs, touching the "partiality" he had spoken of.

Mr. Snuggs replied afar off--somewhat approaching to the obscure; but not so the fair troubler of his peace and his chambers. She gave his worship to understand, in good round terms, that she was the veritable _mamma_ of sundry _little Snuggses_; and that Mr. Snuggs was neither more nor less than a gay deceiver. She denied that she had ever "kicked up a row" in his chambers--she had merely told him of his faults and his failings; and she hoped his worship would not think of separating her from her children.

The magistrate immediately dismissed the charge; the damsel smiled triumphantly; and Mr. Snuggs, like a tall elderly gentleman as he was, stalked out of the office, sighing--as who should say, "The Gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to scourge us!"

FLORENCE O'SHAUGHNESSY.

This was a proceeding wherein one Mrs. Florence O'Shaughnessy sought "_purtection behint_ the law _agen_ the thumpings of her _oun_ lawful husband," Mr. Phelim O'Shaughnessy, of the parish of St. Giles, labourer.

Phelim O'Shaughnessy was a clean-made, curly-pated, good-tempered little fellow, in a new flannel jacket, white apron, and duck trousers. His wife, Florence, was about his own size, no whit behind him in cleanliness, very pretty, and she had a voice--plaintive as a turtledove's.

"--An' plase your honour," said she, "this is Phelim O'Shaughnessy, the husband to myself, that was when he married me; and is--barring the _bating_ he gave me yesterday, just for nothing at all, your honour, that I knows of--_ounly_ that he listens to bad folks, the neighbours of us; and bad folks they are sure enough, your honour, for that same; and your honour'll be plased just to do me the kindness to make them _hould_ their _pace_ and not be after taking away the senses of my _oun_ husband from me, to make him look upon me like a stranger, your honour--for what would I be then?"

Poor Florence would have gone on murmuring forth her little griefs in this manner by the hour together, if his worship would have listened to her. But the office was crowded with business, and he reminded her that the warrant she had sued for, charged her husband with having beat her; and she must confine herself to making good that charge, if she wished to have him punished for so doing.

"Your honour," said Florence, with a low courtesy, "it isn't myself that would hurt a hair of the head of him; _ounly_ that your honour would hear the rights of it, and tell Phelim he shouldn't be after _bating_ me for the likes of them. And here he is to the fore, your honour, for that same."

The magistrate found it would be vain to think of hearing "the rights of it" from Florence; and therefore he asked Phelim what he had to say to it.

Now Phelim was a man of few words. He had listened calmly to all Florence had been saying, and it was not till the magistrate had twice put the question to him, that he left off smoothing his dusty hat, and then, looking steadfastly in his worship's face, he replied, "Och! it's all about the threepence ha'penny, your honour. It was Saturday night when I gave her every farthing of the wages I earned that week--and so I does every Saturday night, come when it may, your honour--and when I ax'd her on Monday morning to give me threepence ha'penny, to get me a pint of beer and the little loaf, _bekase_ I was going to a long job in the city, and didn't know what time I'd be back to my _oun_ place, she wouldn't give it me any how, your honour; and sure I did give her a clout or two."

"But you would not do so again, I am sure, Phelim," observed his worship. "You should remember that she is your wife, whom you have vowed to protect and cherish; and besides, you know it is disgraceful in any man to strike a woman--especially in an _Irishman_. You must give me your solemn promise, Phelim, that you will not strike her again."

"Sure I'd be a _baste_ if I _whopp'd_ her again, your honour," replied Phelim, "when I just thought of a _skame_ to do without it.--It's _ounly_ keeping the threepence ha'penny in my _oun_ pocket, your honour, and I'll have no occasion to _bate_ it out of her at all."

The bystanders laughed at this _skame_ of Phelim's, and even the magistrate smiled, as he good-humouredly told Florence, that, though he believed her to be an excellent wife, he thought that she was a little too hard in refusing her husband such a trifle as threepence half-penny when he was going to work so far from home.

Florence smiled also; but there was a thoughtful sadness in her smile; and, when the laughter had subsided, she told his worship, that it was not the "_coppers_," nor the bit of a "_bating_" Phelim had given her, that she cared about. He had _harkened_ to bad tales about her, she said, and had sworn never to be good to her till she said "two words" to him.

His worship asked her if her husband supposed she was untrue to him.

She replied that he did, and implored the magistrate to let her swear to her fidelity!

His worship told her he was sure there was no need of any such ceremony--"Phelim," said he, "has too much good sense to listen to any idle stories about you."

Still, however, poor Florence would not be pacified; and snatching the Gospels from the table, she pressed the sacred volume fervidly to her lips, and then raising her eyes, she exclaimed--"So help me God! that, barring Phelim and myself, I don't know man from woman."

All this while Phelim stood hanging down his head, and fumbling at the buckle of his hat in the simplest manner imaginable. "For shame, Phelim!" said the magistrate, as Florence made an end of her oath--"For shame, Phelim!--How can you stand there and see the distress of such a wife, without coming forward and assuring her of your confidence?--Give her your hand, man, and comfort her as she deserves."

Phelim stretched forth his hand--Florence grasped it almost convulsively, and raising it to her lips, all chapped and sun-burnt as it was, she kissed it--they looked each other in the face for a moment--burst into tears, and hastily left the office arm-in-arm.

CORINTHIANISM.

Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck and Mr. Dionysius Dobbs were charged with having created a great uproar and disturbance in the lobbies of Drury-lane Theatre on the previous evening, and with having grievously assaulted certain peace-officers, who attempted to quell the said disturbance, by taking the said Christopher Clutterbuck and Dionysius Dobbs into custody. These gentlemen were _Corinthians_--that is to say, in the fashion of the time, gentlemen who were "_up_, _down_, and _fly_ to every thing."

They were brought from Covent Garden watch-house, together with a gang of young thieves, disorderly cobblers, drunken prostitutes, houseless vagabonds, and other off-scourings of society; and a very respectable appearance they made.--Christopher Clutterbuck, a long, sturdy, burly-boned, short-visaged, curly-headed, whiskerless subject, with a hat of that cut called a _kiddy shallow_, and an enormous pair of bull's-eye spectacles; and Dionysius Dobbs, a lean, lack-beardical, long-faced, sunken-cheeked, hollow-eyed, cossack-waisted concern, with a very gentlemanly imperfection of vision, and a silver eye-glass to correspond. And there they were, for nearly an hour before the arrival of the magistrate, crammed among the tagrag-and-bobtail in the common waiting room, or _sweating_-room, as it is sometimes more properly called.--Mr. Kit Clutterbuck, strutting to and fro, with arms a-kimbo, as vigorous as a turkey-cock; and Dionysius Dobbs, lolling upon one of the forms, lifting his eye-glass from time to time, and gasping like an expiring magpie; whilst the torn and bemudded _toggery_ of each of them, all tacked together with pins, gave ample proof of their love of "_Life_."

The magistrates having taken their seats, the demolished Corinthians were ushered into their presence, and a charge, of which the following is the substance, was exhibited against them.

Between the third and fourth acts of the play--which happened very appropriately to be _Wild Oats_--they were swaggering about the lobbies, insulting every body that came in their way; the "big one"--that is to say, Mr. Kit Clutterbuck--offering to _mill_ "any body in the world," and repeatedly exclaiming--"Oh! that a man of my own powers would come athwart me!" and the "thin one" (that's Mr. Dionysius Dobbs) lisping responsively--"That's your sort! Go it, Kitty my _covy_!" Nobody taking the challenge, _Kitty my covy_, in the overflowing of his Corinthianism, seized his friend, the delicate Mr. Dionysius Dobbs, and dashing him against the wall of the lobby, shattered one of the lamps with his empty _knowledge-box_. Dionysius Dobbs took the concussion in good part; but Mr. Spring, the box book-keeper, who happened to witness the feat, was not so well pleased, and sent for Bond, the officer, to remove them. Bond prevailed upon them to be a little more quiet; and the loss of the lamp was overlooked. But in a quarter of an hour after, he found them taking indelicate liberties with the wretched women in the saloons, sparring, bellowing, and capering, like a pair of drunken _ourang-outangs_, as he said, to the great danger of the mirrors, and the scandal of the _saloon itself_. He again attempted to remonstrate with them; but all he could get from them was a challenge to fight, from _Kitty my covy_; and therefore he called for the assistance of his brother officers, determined to remove them entirely from the theatre. A posse of other officers came to his assistance; and then began what the Corinthians called a _prime spree_--viz., Billingsgate bellowings, black eyes, broken coxcombs, and rending of garments; Kitty Clutterbuck swinging his arms about like the sails of a windmill; Dionysius Dobbs shrieking and clinging to the balustrades like a monkey in hysterics; and the officers dragging at their collars in front, and twisting at their tails behind; and in this fashion they were, by degrees, _worked_ out of the theatre into the street. And then, as they had been so very obstreperous and Corinthianish, the officers determined to deposit them in the disorderly depot of the watch-house. In their way thither, Kitty Clutterbuck got hold of an officer's hand, and gave it such a twist that three of the fingers were dislocated, and the tendons of the wrist very seriously injured. When they got into the watch-house, Kitty conducted himself more like a mad bull than any thing else--butting and bellowing at every thing that came in his way. His honour, the nocturnal constable, therefore, ordered that he should be put down below--in the subterranean _boudoir_; but Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck blew up the boudoir, and his honour too, in good set terms, and threatened his honour, moreover, with the high displeasure of a certain noble marquis. "Tut! none of your gammon!" retorted his honour; and Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck was forthwith "quoited down stairs like a shove-groat shilling;" but not before he had grievously avenged himself on the persons of his _quoiters_. There were five of them engaged in the service, and every one of them came off halting.

These matters having been duly set forth in evidence before the magistrates, they called upon the conquered constable-quelled Corinthians for their defence. Whereupon Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck, with many propitiatory deviations from the perpendicular, delivered himself thus:--

"Your worships--that is to say, your worships, I--_hem_! I beg pardon, your worships, but I don't know. It is extremely awkward--all I can say is--that is, all I have to offer is, that I--belong to--to his Majesty's service, _hem_! But unfortunately--unfortunately, your worships, have not been in the habit of being much in _town_, and--the fact is, your worships, I really don't know exactly; but this gentleman (Mr. Dionysius Dobbs) is my friend--my particular friend, and a gentleman, as you perceive--that is, he is a gentleman, I assure you. I suppose your worships, we were not in our regular senses--certainly we could not be--we were not so sober as we might have been at sometimes, I suppose; but the fact is, no doubt, I imagine, we must make amends for any damage we have done, certainly."

Mr. Dionysius Dobbs said nothing. Once or twice he essayed to speak, but what he had to say stuck in his throat. So he gasped piteously; and looked unutterable things, with an aspect so droopingly lack-a-daisical, that the very officers seemed sorry for him.

Their worships, however, commented severely upon their misdeeds, and ordered that they should put in good and sufficient bail for their appearance at the Quarter Sessions, there to answer to five distinct indictments for assault. Mr. Christopher Clutterbuck in 100_l._, with two sureties in 50_l._ each; and Mr. Dionysius Dobbs in 80_l._, with two sureties in 40_l._ each.

They had no bail ready, and were locked up all day, among other unfortunates, in the iron room. In the evening they gave the required bail; and, meanwhile, the Grand Jury returned five true bills against them. But they were never brought to trial; for, before the next Sessions, they found means to make their peace with the injured officers, at an expense of some forty or fifty pounds. And this is worshipful _Corinthianism_.

A DEBT OF HONOUR.

This was a proceeding, by warrant, for an assault and battery, arising out of the non-settlement of a debt of honour.

Mr. Elias Simmons, the complainant, is of the children of Israel; a fat, round man, of a pleasant countenance, and addicted to luxuriating in brown stout and a pipe, in the little back parlour at the Cannon Tavern--a comfortable public-house, somewhere in Knightsbridge. The defendant, Mr. Jacques Breton, is a native of Switzerland; tall, gaunt, and elderly, with a nice sense of honour, "sudden and quick in quarrel," and, withal, in the practice of sometimes taking a half-gill of old sherry in a goblet of pure spring water, at the Cannon Tavern aforesaid. He appeared before the magistrate with a large black silk handkerchief bound round his head, so as to cover one of his eyes.

On the day named in the warrant, it being between four and five o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Elias Simmons was in the little back parlour at the tavern aforesaid, luxuriating as aforesaid, and several other gentlemen, then and there assembled, were luxuriating in like manner, when the door opened, and in stalked Mr. Jacques Breton; who, having seated himself, rang the bell and ordered his sherry and water as usual. Now it so happened that Mr. Jacques Breton was indebted to Mr. Elias Simmons in the sum of two shillings and sixpence; and, moreover, the said debt had been standing almost time immemorial, so that Mr. Elias Simmons was weary of waiting for it; and, as it was a "_debt of honour_," he began to entertain doubts that Mr. Jacques Breton meant to avail himself of that circumstance, and _forget_ to pay it. He did not presume to say that such was the case, but he entertained that opinion; and the moment he saw Mr. Jacques Breton enter the room, he determined in his own mind to put it to the proof. Howbeit, knowing Mr. Jacques Breton's constitutional irascibility, and unwilling to wound his feelings before the English gentlemen present, he addressed him in French, viz., "_Monsieur--voulez-vous--donner moi--mon leetel demiecu, monsieur?_" To which civil interrogation--put with all the good humour in the world--Mr. Jacques Breton instantly replied, "_Ahah! sacre! vat? you want to 'front me!_"--and seizing a heavy _cue_ from a bagatelle board on the table, he grasped it in both hands, and, before the company could interfere, he gave Mr. Elias Simmons a "thundering _thwack_" on the bare head, which shivered his tobacco-pipe into a thousand pieces, and laid him prostrate among the spittoons!

For this outrageous and totally unanticipated attack, Mr. Elias Simmons now sought redress from the laws of that country in which he has the honour of sojourning.

The magistrate having strictly inquired whether no other provocation had been given, and having been assured there had not, asked Mr. Jacques Breton what he had to say in excuse for such violence?

Mr. Jacques Breton prepared for his defence by throwing back his head and lifting up the black silk handkerchief before-mentioned; and having placed himself in this unpicturesque position, he began--"_Ahah! monsieur_--see--he broke my eye! _Voila, monsieur!_ see my eye! _Voila!_"

It was very evident that beneath his black handkerchief he had a dreadful black eye, and the magistrate asked how he came by it?

The witnesses replied that it was done in disarming him of the _cue_, whilst complainant was still sprawling among the spittoons.

Mr. Jacques Breton proceeded with his defence. "I vas ver much vex at Monsieur Simmon," said he, "because I vood pay ven it satisfied myself. I vas so mush up--vat you call d--n angry, dat de taut come I vood punise him, ahah. But, monsieur, de _strike_ vas not sufficient to murder von littel--von vara littel fly!"

Monsieur Jacques Breton had nothing better to offer in his defence, and after having repeated the same things half-a-dozen times over, he was delivered into the iron custody of the turnkey till he should find bail for his appearance at the Sessions.

CHEAP DINING.

A person of very respectable exterior was brought before the magistrate, charged with assaulting the waiter, and destroying the property, of an eating-house proprietor in the neighbourhood of Covent-garden. Eating-houses, properly so called, are, as is well known to the initiated, vulgarly denominated "_slap-bang_ shops;" and certainly the affair of the defendant, in the present case, was a genuine slap-bang adventure.

The gentleman went into the house in question, and called for some roast beef, "under-done, and not too fat." The waiter instantly brought him what they call "a _plate_" of roast beef--several good jolly slapping slices, swimming in twelve-water gravy, and duly displayed upon an ordinary-sized dinner plate. "What the devil do you bring me such an infernal quantity for?" asked the gentleman. "Do you think I'm a coal porter, or a ploughman? Take it away, you vagabond! and bring me a more christian-like quantity--about half as much." "Master doesn't make _half_ plates, sir," replied the waiter. "Then I shall have none!" rejoined the gentleman, and resuming his gloves, hat, and stick, he was about to make his exit in a rage; but the waiter, with plate of beef in hand, and napkin under arm, placed himself at the head of the stairs, seeking to cut off his retreat with a "Please to pay me for the beef, sir; it was cut by your orders, and you mustn't go till you have paid for it. It only comes to ninepence, sir, _wedgittubles_ and all." "Stand out of my way, you scoundrel! or I'll knock you down!" said the gentleman. "I shan't, sir; you only wants to bilk[16] master, and bolt," replied the waiter. This was enough. In the next instant, a kick from the enraged gentleman sent the plate of beef spinning up to the ceiling; the waiter seized the gentleman by the collar, the gentleman grasped the waiter by the throat, and they struggled together for a moment, and then, down stairs they trundled together, slap bang on to a table just covered with smoking hot dishes of roast and boiled: the table was upset with the concussion, and in the next moment, the half-strangled combatants lay sprawling upon the floor, in the midst of shoulders of mutton, pieces of beef, _dabs_ of boiled cabbage, broken platters, capsized mustard-pots, and many other odd things too tedious to mention.

The master-cook stood aghast at the horrible clatter occasioned by this comical catastrophe, and the ruin which accompanied it; but he was soon sufficiently recovered from his astonishment to gather the gentleman up again; and then, having had him well wiped down, he gave him in charge to a constable. The constable carried him before the magistrate, as a matter of course, and the master-cook now sought compensation in damages for the injury done to his plates, dishes, and victuals, and the waiter sought a reparation for the bodily injury he had sustained.

The magistrate directed the gentleman to find bail to answer the complaint of the waiter at the Sessions; but he refused to make any order with respect to the damages upon the eatables; inasmuch as the waiter appeared to be as deeply implicated in that part of the business as the gentleman.

THE GENTLEMAN AND HIS BOOTS.

One morning in the dog-days, a gentleman presented himself before the magistrate to claim redress against a bootmaker, who, he said, had done him irreparable injury, and had wantonly inflicted upon him unheard-of torments--torments fit only for the howling inhabitants of _Tartarus_!--This unfortunate gentleman had walked or rather _waddled_ into the office slip-shod, in green morocco slippers: whilst he spoke, he stood first upon one foot, and then upon the other; and there was such a manifestation of intense suffering in his voice, his countenance and his gesture, that every person present pitied him.

He said he had been miserable enough to have a dispute with his boot-maker, about a pair of boots which he had sent the rascal to repair; and in that dispute he expressed himself more warmly, perhaps, than the occasion warranted; but he little thought he was to suffer for it in the way he had done. Some days after the dispute above-mentioned, the boot-maker sent the boots home; and, on the next morning, he put them on, and walked out with the intention of calling upon several friends, with whom he had particular appointments. But he had not walked more than two or three hundred yards, when his feet began to feel "cursedly uncomfortable;" and the more he walked and tried not to notice them, the more uncomfortable they became. What the plague could be the matter with the boots, he could not imagine! They were quite large enough, and the leather seemed soft and pliable; and yet, had they been made of iron, and two sizes too small for him, he could not have felt more uncomfortable. Nevertheless--though with less and less of comfort, he still walked, and walked, until his walk became a downright ridiculous hobble; and at last, without having called upon a single friend, he returned home in as lamentable a condition as Peter Pindar's pea-perplexed Pilgrim--

"His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brows in sweat,
Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet!"

"Bring the boot jack, Molly!"--he exclaimed, in a paroxysm of perspiration. Molly brought it in a moment, and, with eager anticipation of ease, he stuck his heel into it; but, alas! he no sooner began to pull than his agonies were increased tenfold! and the boot-jack was kicked away in despair. In two minutes he tried it again--and again he suffered the most excruciating torment. Oh! miserable state!--Hercules himself could not have suffered more whilst writhing in the poisoned shirt; and had the unlucky boot-maker been there at that moment, it is a hundred to one but he would have undergone the fate of the hapless Lychas--at least he would have stood a good chance of being well pulled by the nose, and perhaps knocked down with the boot-jack. At last--for it is miserable to dwell upon such horrors--at last, the gentleman, sweating at every pore, and wound up almost to madness, thrust his heel once more into the yawning jack, and shutting his eyes, he pulled with such a desperate might, that his foot came forth indeed--but it came forth completely _flayed_. Not only the stocking, but the skin was left behind--and even his very corns were torn up by the roots! Can any one imagine a sharper operation than this must have been? And then to be obliged to undergo a similar operation on the other foot, too!--Really it makes one perspire only to think of it. However, it was inevitable[17]--the other foot was torn away in the same miserable manner, and it came forth from the bottom of the confounded boot almost as skinless as an anatomical preparation!

"And now, Sir," said the gentleman, when he had told his story thus far--"and now, Sir, what do you suppose was the cause of all this misery?"

"Upon my word," replied the magistrate, "I cannot imagine--I never heard of such a case before."

"Why, Sir," continued the gentleman, "it was _cobbler's wax_!"

"Cobbler's wax!" echoed his worship.

"Cobbler's wax, Sir!" re-echoed the gentleman.--"The rascally boot-maker, in pure revenge for the scolding I gave him--had, with _malice prepense_, lined the foot of each boot with cobbler's wax! and I trust, Sir, you will punish him soundly for such unwarrantable wickedness."

The magistrate observed that it was altogether a new case; and, though it certainly was a most unpleasant one, he feared it could not be brought within his jurisdiction.

The gentleman suggested that, it would probably come under the Act for _preventing the wanton destruction of property_. His stockings were utterly destroyed; his boots were totally spoiled; and his feet were cruelly scarified! All this had been done wantonly and wilfully, he said; and in corroboration of the premises, he now produced from his pocket the dangling remains of the stockings he wore on the agonizing occasion.

The stockings were utterly spoiled; and after much urging on the part of the gentleman, his worship consented that a summons should be issued for the boot-maker's appearance. However, it came to nothing; for in half an hour after, the gentleman waddled back to the office, and said the boot-maker and he had come to an _eclaircissement_ which would render his worship's interference unnecessary. What was the nature of that _eclaircissement_ did not appear; but certainly the boot-maker who could have the heart to put a poor gentleman to so much misery ought no longer to call himself one of the "_gentle_ craft."

BEAUTY AND THE BROOMSTICK.

Mrs. Mary Evans was brought before the magistrate on a warrant charging her with an assault on the person of Miss Jemima Jennings.

Mrs. Mary Evans was a tall thin matron, somewhat declining into the vale of years; but her countenance--especially the most prominent part of it, which was very prominent indeed--was still blooming with spirituous comforts. Miss Jemima Jennings was a very pretty mild-spoken young woman, with a countenance blooming with youth.