ADVERTISEMENT TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION.

This volume consists of certain of those Bow Street Reports which have appeared from time to time, during the last three years, in the columns of the Morning Herald. The very favourable notice which they then met with from the public, has induced the author to select some of the most descriptive and amusing of them, and to present them here again, with some necessary enlargements and corrections, and in a somewhat more finished state than the rapid demands of a daily paper allowed.

In their present form, therefore, they assume the more permanent character which they have been thought to deserve; the convenience of the reader is consulted, and his imagination very effectively aided, by the Designs of Mr. George Cruikshank, whose rare comic pencil has been most successfully employed in illustrating them.

The chief quality of these little narratives is certainly "pour faire rire" in common with all other books of facetiæ; but in some important respects they differ from books of that class, which for the most part consist of fancied and fictitious scenes and characters; and of humour concocted in the brain of the writer: for in the work now presented, the dramatis personæ are actual existences, and the scenes real occurrences; affording specimens of our national humour which is perhaps to be found genuine only among the uncultivated classes of society. In copying these, the author's chief aim has been to preserve the character and spirit of his originals.

The reader is placed, without personal sacrifice, amidst the various and somewhat repulsive groups of a police office, and made acquainted with the states and conditions of human nature, with which, from the sympathy due to the more unfortunate part of the species, he should not be entirely ignorant; it is by such means alone that the prosperous and orderly portion of society can know what passes among the destitute and disorderly portion of it; that they can rightly appreciate the advantages they enjoy, and the value and importance of these particular institutions of their country.

It has been objected to this publication, that it perpetuates the ridicule and disgrace to which individuals have, in an unlucky moment, exposed themselves: to obviate this, great care has been taken that names, which are here unimportant, should be either totally omitted, or so altered as to prevent the possibility of discovery; personal satire being in no degree the object of this work;—the persons concerned have then only to keep their own counsel, to be perfectly unexposed to having their wounds opened afresh by means of this inoffensive, and, it is hoped, diverting volume.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS

DESIGNED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.

MORNINGS AT BOW STREET.

A COOL CONTRIVANCE.

One fine summer's morning, a short, dumpy, sunburnt, orange and purple-faced old man—topped with a clean white night-cap, was brought before the magistrate by an officer, who had just found him trudging through the Mall in St. James's Park, with his breeches on a stick over his shoulder, instead of in their natural and proper place. "This comical fad of his, please your worship," said the officer, "frightened the ladies out of their wits, and made such a hubbub among the young blackguards, that I thought it my duty to take him into custody; but he kicked and sprunted at such a rate, that it was as much as two or three of us could do to get his breeches on again."

"Why do you walk without your breeches, my honest friend?" said the magistrate, in a tone of kind expostulation.[1] "Because I was so hot that I was determined not to be bothered with breeches any longer!" replied the queer old man—twinkling his little deep-set French-grey eyes, and sending forth a long-drawn sultry sigh.

The magistrate asked him something of his history; to which he replied, that he was born at Great Marlow, in Buckinghamshire, where his father was a small farmer. "There was a rare lot of us young ones," said he, "running about the lanes, and paddling in the cool green ponds, like so many goslings. For myself, I was made a shoemaker of, by a gentleman who thought me too pretty for a plough-boy: and so I've been making shoes in London these last forty years; but latterly I'm always so hot and dry, that I can make no more shoes, not I, and I'll take to the fields again."

His worship was of opinion that the poor fellow's wits were wandering, and ordered that he should be taken care of in Tothill-field's Bridewell, until his parish could be ascertained.

A COSTERMONGER'S QUERY.

A person, who called himself a "master costermonger," having, with some difficulty, obtained access to the table, made his best bow to the magistrate, and said, "Please your vurship, vaut am I to do about my bitch?"

"About what?" said his worship.

"About my bitch, vaut I lost four months ago, your vurship. I lost her in pup, and I knows the man vaut's fun her, and now she's pupp'd six pups, and says he to me, says he, 'You shall either have the bitch vithout the pups, or the pups vithout the bitch; an if so be as you don't like that, you shan't have neither of 'em'—and so vaut am I to do, your vurship?"

"Why go along and mind your business," replied his worship—and the master costermonger retired from court without having taken anything by his motion.

A TEA PARTY.

Joseph Arnold, Esq., of Duck-lane, Westminster, a retired hackney-coachman, better known by the title of "the Rough Diamond," and as the intimate friend of Bill Gibbons, Esq. P.C. Com. Gen. was brought before the sitting magistrate under the following awkward circumstances:—

Mr. Peter Guy, who is a tailor[2] (by trade), and Mrs. Peter Guy, were invited to tea by the accomplished hostess of the Russian Hotel in Bow-street. Mr. Joseph Arnold, Mr. Joseph Arnold's housekeeper, and several other ladies and gentlemen, were of the party. There was toast and prime Dorset, and muffins and crumpets, with Gunpowder and Bohea for the ladies; and pig's-face, red-herrings, and hot coffee for the gentlemen; in short, there was everything quite genteel and comfortable. Now it so happened that Mr. Peter Guy wore a white-poodle[3] upper benjamin, of his own make, on the occasion, and this unfortunate dress upset the comfort of the whole party. Mr. Joseph Arnold first observed, that Mr. Peter Guy's poodle-benjamin was as pretty a bit of toggery[4] as ever he seed. All the company agreed to this, except one lady (Mrs. Jonathan Guy), who remarked that it looked rather too warm-like and smothery for fireside wear. Mr. Joseph Arnold observed it warn't a morsel too warm for those as had any gumption[5] in 'em; and he offered to bet a shilling that he could get it on, if so be as Mr. Peter Guy would be kind enough to peel.[6] There was not a lady in company who did not laugh out-right at this proposition, because Mr. Joseph Arnold is a large round man, upwards of six feet high, and Mr. Peter Guy, as one of the ladies very justly observed, is a little hop-o'-my-thumb chap, not much above half as big. Mr. J. Arnold, however, swore by goles (a favourite oath of his) that he would not flinch from his bet; and at length Mr. Peter Guy took him at his word, the stakes were deposited, and Mr. Peter Guy having slipped out of his benjamin, Mr. Joseph Arnold squeezed himself into it, without a vast deal of trouble; though, when it was on, the sleeves did not reach much below his elbows. Mr. Peter Guy readily admitted that he was done,[7] and requested his benjamin again; but Mr. Joseph Arnold refused to restore it, observing, that it was a prime fit, and he would give it a turn among the swells in Duck-lane. The ladies remonstrated, the gentlemen laughed, the noise ran high; the tea tables were hurried away, and the crumpets were upset among the ashes. But it was all of no use; Mr. Joseph Arnold swore the toggery was too good for a tailor, and he would keep it for himself; and so saying, he sallied forth and strutted up and down Bow-street for nearly two hours, till at length the patience of Mr. Peter Guy became exhausted, and he gave him in charge to an officer, who carried him before the magistrate.

His worship having first ordered Mr. Joseph Arnold to be placed at the bar, asked him what he had to say for himself?

He replied that he did not feel himself a bit disgraced by being placed in that 'ere bar, being as how he was well known to Mr. White and Mr. Markland, the magistrates at Queen-square, and to all the inhabitants of Duck-lane, as an honest man, and one that was as well-to-do in the world, as any man who was no better off than himself. And as to the benjamin there was such a bother about, he had got it on by the free consent of the owner, and he would keep it on long enough, unless the owner stood a drop of summut short.[8]

"If that's the case, Sir," observed the magistrate, "I shall instantly commit you for the robbery."

This seemed to have a considerable effect upon Mr. Joseph Arnold, for he instantly, though slowly, began to peel: and having so done, he handed the benjamin over the bar, sulkily observing, "This comes of keeping company with tailors, your worship, and I can't say but it sarves me right. Howsomever, he mought have had it before, if he had not been so d——d tall and consequential about it."

Mr. Peter Guy thanked the magistrate for his kind interposition, and the parties withdrew.

PAT LANGHAM'S LOGIC.

Mr. Patrick Langham was charged with having assaulted Mrs. Bridget Finnagen, by spitting in her face.

His worship told him he was a dirty fellow, and asked him what he could say in excuse for such an unmanly and disgusting trick.

"Well, your honour," replied Patrick, "I should not have done it by no manes, but she put her nose in the mouth of me."

"Nonsense, man! How could she put her nose in your mouth?"

"Well, your honour, she did that same, any how; an I can bring a witness to the fore that'll testify to your honour."

The magistrate told him he did not believe him. Mrs. Bridget Finnagen said it was a grate lie invented by Patrick to bring shame upon her—the mother-in-law to the brother of him, and oun mother to four children—barrin one that's dead.

Patrick persisted in his nose story, and being desired to show the manner of it, he placed himself in the attitude of a scolding woman—with chin poked out, and arms a-kimbo.

"Why, you foolish fellow," observed the magistrate, "you mean that she put her nose in your face—not mouth."

"Your honour'll call it what ye plase," replied Patrick, "but me mouth's in me face any how; and so me face and me mouth's all one, your honour, in that shape."

His worship could not but smile at this explanation of the matter, and told Mrs. Bridget Finnagen that he thought Patrick was a harmless fellow, who would conduct himself better in future if she would forgive him his past offences.

Mrs. Bridget Finnagen, however, refused to be pacified; she implored his worship "to bind him down to the law," and declared that upon one occasion lately, he told her if it was not for the law, he would put all the teeth in her head into her stomach; but as Patrick declared he had no ill-blood to the cratur, and promised never to molest her again, the magistrate dismissed the complaint.

MANGLING AND MATRIMONY.

Mr. Thomas Turner was brought before the magistrate on a peace warrant, issued at the suit of his wife, Mrs. Eleanor Turner. There was a world of arguments pro. and con.; but we must content ourselves with a simple narrative of the principal facts.

Mr. and Mrs. Turner were married in September last, at which time he was not much more than seventy-three years old; and she was only fifty-six, the very day they went to church; consequently their experience was not so great as it might have been, had they been older. Nevertheless, they managed to get over the first six weeks, as Mr. Turner said, "pretty tightish." But after that time, his business began to fall off; and then Mrs. Turner, who was by profession a mangler, insisted on his turning the wheel of her mangle for her. Well, he did turn it; and turn it, and turn it, again and again, from six o'clock in the morning till nine at night; and if he did not turn it fast enough, Mrs. Turner boxed his ears; and often, when she had boxed his ears till fire flashed from his eyes, as it were, she would tell him, "though he was a turner by name, he was a poor turner by nature." On the other hand, Mrs. Turner alleged that he had "married her out of a kitchen, what she had lived in eleven long years;" that she had brought him as excellent a character as any man could desire; that she thought she could have done as well with him as she could with a man of twenty or twenty-five years old, but that she was sadly disappointed: for though she found him good for nothing in the world but to turn her mangle, he refused even to do that; or, if he did do it, he did it clumsily, and with grumbling; and he often left off doing it to beat her. Moreover, he had latterly threatened to sell her mangling apparatus; and, because she begged of him not to sell it—as his doing so would be their ruin—he "kicked her shins till they were all manner of colours."

The magistrate asked Mr. Turner what he had to say to this last part of the business.

He said, with his worship's permission, he would tell him.—"He had often promised Mrs. Turner, that he would make her a handsome present at Whitsuntide, if she would only keep her fingers to herself; and as Whitsuntide was now fast approaching, he went out one Monday evening and spouted[9] his watch, to raise funds for that purpose. With the funds so raised, he purchased a spick-and-span new straw bonnet, with ribbons all up a-top of it, quite beautiful to see—so beautiful, indeed, that the ribbons alone cost him a clear five shillings. And with this bonnet, so beautiful, he went home, rejoicing in his heart to think how pleased Mrs. Turner would be, and how happy they should live—for a fortnight at the very least. But he was mistaken. When he got home, he uncovered the bonnet, and, placing it on his hand, he held it up before her, nothing doubting but that she would be delighted at the sight of it; and he had no sooner done this, than she snatched it from his hand, and threw it on the ground, trampled its beautiful ribbons under her angry feet; and, seizing him by the scuff of his neck she bent him down towards the floor, whilst she pummelled him about the head and shoulders, till his very ears sung again. In this dilemma, he had nothing left for it but to kick backwards—donkey-fashion as he called it; and it was by the kicks so given in his own defence, that Mrs. Turner's legs were discoloured."

When Mr. Turner came to this part of his description, in order to show his worship more particularly the manner of his kicking, he kicked out behind with all his might, and in so doing he kicked an officer on the leg with such violence, that the poor fellow was obliged to go limping to a seat, and sit rubbing his shin for half an hour after.

Mrs. Turner strenuously denied having pummelled her husband in the way stated, or in any other way; and eventually he was ordered to find sureties to keep the peace towards her and all the king's subjects.

BATTLE IN THE BOXES.

Among the watch-house detenus brought before the magistrates one morning, to answer for misdoings on the preceding night, there was a little, fat, round, well-dressed, comfortable-looking personage, named ——; but his name can be of no interest to the public, as the offence laid to his charge amounted only to an assault and battery, caused by the boiling over of his anger at a supposed invasion of his right and title to a particular seat in one of the boxes at the English opera—he having set his heart upon that identical seat from the very beginning of the evening.

His opponent was a young gentleman named Dakins—a thin, genteel youth, solemn and sententious in delivery, far above his years, and backed by a host of friends. There was a world of oratory displayed on both sides; but we have no room to report it: all we can do is, to give a bare narrative of the facts.

Young Mr. Dakins occupied a front seat in one of the boxes till the conclusion of the first piece. Then, having nothing else to do, he looked round the house. Suddenly he espied a party of his friends, male and female, in the very next box. They occupied the front seat and part of the second; and he, perceiving that there was a vacant space on the second seat, went and took possession of it forthwith, and was highly delighted at the luckiness of the circumstance. In a few minutes in comes the little round man—"Hallo!" says he, "you've got my seat, young man." "Your seat, Sir?" said the young man, with some surprise. "Yes, my seat, Sir," replied the round one. "Well, Sir," rejoined the young one, "you need not be so hot upon't—there is a very nice seat, which I have just left, in the front row of the adjoining box—will you have the goodness to take that, as I wish to remain here with my friends?" "No, Sir," replied the round one, very waspishly—"no, Sir, I shall not! This is my seat—I have satten upon it all the evening, and I'll have no other; and let me tell you, Sir, that I think your conduct in taking it, Sir, very ungentlemanly, Sir!" The young man's friends now interfered, but in vain; and at length they told him to let the little fat man have his seat, and they would make room for him in the front row. So there they sat, enduring all the moist miseries of four in a row, till the end of the second piece; when the young man, turning round his head, perceived the little round man's seat empty again; and, after waiting a few minutes, and finding he did not return, he again took possession of it, to the great relief of the poor ladies in the front row. But he had scarcely seated himself when in pops the little round man again, and without saying more than "I see this is done on purpose to insult me!" he seized the young man by the collar of the coat behind, lifted him from the seat, and very dexterously slid himself into it. In an instant all was uproar:—"Turn him out!"—"Throw him over!"—The little fat man lost his balance, fell backwards, and in that position he let fly "an immense volley of kicks," which the young man received on his stomach. The ladies shrieked, the gentlemen tried to hold his legs down, the house cried "Shame!"—and at length, after kickings and cuffings, and pullings and haulings, quite distressing to detail, the little round man was delivered over to the peace officers, and conveyed to the watch-house, panting like a porpoise, and perspiring at every pore.

Thus far is partly from the evidence for the prosecution. For the defence, it was contended that it was excessively ungentlemanly to deprive any gentleman of the seat such gentleman might have occupied at the commencement of the performance; and furthermore, that the little round man was so roughly handled, that it was absolutely necessary for him to kick in his own defence; for, having once lost his perpendicular position, his rotundity of form made it extremely probable that he would roll over the front of the boxes into the pit! Indeed it was asserted that his enemies endeavoured to bring about that shocking catastrophe, and that, had not a gentleman in the adjoining box held him back by the coat, they certainly would have accomplished it.

The magistrate said there were faults on both sides. In the first place, the defendant should not have quitted his seat without saying to his neighbour that he intended to return; secondly, common courtesy ought to have induced the complainant to have relinquished it when demanded; and, thirdly, that the defendant should have demanded it civilly. Upon the whole, it was a very silly piece of business, and he would recommend them to retire, and make an end of it by mutual explanation, or apology.

This pacific advice, however, was rejected by both parties, and so the little round man was held to bail.

A SPOILED QUADRILLE.

One Solomon Dobbs, an operative tailor, "all fudge and fooster," like a superannuated goose, was charged by a very spruce young gentleman with raising a false alarm against him, whereby he, the young gentleman, was in imminent danger of being treated as a pickpocket, or something of that sort.

The young gentleman, whose name we understood to be Henry Augustus Jinks, was proceeding to his studies in quadrilling at the dancing academy, in Pickett-place, Temple Bar, about nine o'clock in the evening; and being thinly clad, in silken hose, and all that, he was hurrying along to keep himself warm and in proper quadrilling condition. Whilst he was so hurrying along, with his head full of fiddles and new figures, he heard somebody behind him cry "Stop!" and looking back, he saw Mr. Solomon Dobbs waddling after him. Mr. Henry Augustus Jinks had no idea that the cry of such a queer-looking man could be addressed to him, and so he continued to run on; but Mr. Solomon Dobbs still waddled after him, exclaiming "Stop him! stop that thief!" &c. though in such a thick husky voice that nobody noticed him. Neither did Mr. Henry Augustus Jinks notice him, but ran on, and on, till he arrived at the assembly-room; and the first quadrille—which had been only waiting for him—was just about to be led off, when in waddled Mr. Solomon Dobbs, and seizes Mr. Henry Augustus Jinks by his quite clean, fresh-starched cravattery! to the great terror of the ladies, the indignation of the gentlemen, the silencing of the fiddlers, and total disarrangement of the quadrille! This was shocking enough in all conscience; but how was the terror and indignation increased when Mr. Solomon Dobbs, still holding the astonished Mr. Henry Augustus Jinks by his clean cravat, told him in plain terms that he was a pickpocket, and had robbed him of his watch! It was too much. The ladies squealed, the gentlemen stormed, the fiddlers bagged their cremonas, and Mr. Henry Augustus Jinks threatened an action of slander; but the master of the ceremonies, more judiciously, ran for a watchman, and Mr. Solomon Dobbs was carried off to the watch-house as a dangerous and evil-minded disorderly.

The magistrate called upon Mr. Solomon Dobbs for an explanation of his strange conduct.

"——And please your worship, I was not so sober as I might have been," solemnly replied Mr. Solomon Dobbs, with an owl-like twinkle of his gin-quenched eyes.

"Had you any ground for the charge you made against this young gentleman?" asked the magistrates.

"Your worship, I had not; and I really have no recollection of having done what is laid to my charge," replied Mr. Solomon Dobbs, in deep despondency.

"Then, by your own confession you are a drunken fool," responded his worship.

Mr. Solomon Dobbs bowed assent.—Mr. Henry Augustus Jinks said he was satisfied, and the matter was dismissed.

OYSTER EATING.

A law student was brought up from St. Clement's watch-house, to which place he had been consigned between eleven and twelve on the preceding night, at the suit of an ancient oyster-woman of that parish.

The venerable fishmongeress deposed, that the Law Student was in the practice of occasionally taking oysters at her shop; and in general he conducted himself like a very nice sort of gentleman—so much so, that she had more pleasure in opening oysters for him than for any other gentleman of her acquaintance; but on this unfortunate night he came in very tipsy, and devoured so many oysters that she was quite alarmed at him. She opened, and opened, and opened, till her hands and arms ached ready to drop off, and still he kept craving for more; and he would have them, in spite of her remonstrating that he would certainly burst himself. At last he took it in his head to go out to look at the weather, and she took that opportunity of locking him out; thinking he would be satisfied with what he had had, and would go quietly home; but instead of this, he commenced an assault and battery on her door, and before she could unlock it, he had not only forced it off the hinges, but had shivered one of the panels to pieces with his foot. She was now more alarmed than ever, and fearing he might even attempt to serve her as he had served the oysters, she "skreeked for the watch," and he was taken to the round-house.

The Law Student, who seemed to be still under the influence of the Tuscan grape, heard all this with a quiet, comfortable simper; and then, with a low lounging sort of bow to the lady, he said in a voice that seemed to make its way with difficulty through a mass of oysters, "Suppose, Mrs. Jinkins, I reinstate your door—you will be satisfied?"

"Sir," interrupted the magistrate, "you must satisfy me, as well as Mrs. Jinkins; you have broken the public peace; let me know what you have to say to that?"

"Your worship," replied the Law Student, with an oyster-oppressed sigh, "your worship, I have nothing to say, save and except that I was rather—"

"Drunk, you mean to say," observed his worship.

"Your worship, I am sorry to say, conjectures rightly," replied the Law Student, with another very graceful bow, and another sigh from the very bottom of his oyster-bed.

"Then, Sir," rejoined the magistrate, "pay the woman for the damage you have done her door—pay one shilling for your discharge fee, and five shillings for being drunk; and then go about your business, and keep yourself sober in future."

The Law Student bowed again, and beckoned to a young man at the farther end of the office, who instantly stepped forward and paid the money; and then the Law Student, making two distinct bows—one to the magistrate, and the other to his oyster-woman, slided genteelly out of the office.

A WATCHMAN'S WALTZ.

Two young men—the one a deputy drover, and the other an operative boot-maker—were charged by a watchman with having "bother'd him on his bate," and refused to "go along off of it when he tould 'em."

He was asked to describe the nature of the bother; and he replied, that they came rambling up to him intosticatedly, and ax'd him—"Charley, where am the waits?"[10] "I don't know," says I—"get along out of it; and don't be after axing about such nonsense," says I. "We won't," says they—"we'll wait for the waits and have a dance, for we've nothing better to do—without we go and break open a house!" says they to me. "Fait," says I, "but ye'd better be off to the beds of ye, out of the kould," says I; "and with that they got hould of me, and twirled me about and about for a bit of a waultz, as they called it. So then I twirled my rattle, and they twirled me, and more watchmen came twirling into it—that's the waltz: and we twirled and twirled, all in a bunch together, till at last we managed to twirl them into the door of the watch-house; and here they are, your honour, to answer for that same."

The defendants were asked what they had to say for themselves, and the drover undertook to be spokesman:—

"Your worships, last night I lost two fat ship (sheep), and I goz me over the water to see for 'em, and couldn't find 'em, not nowhere, your worships. 'Dang the ship,' says I, 'vauts the use of vaulking my legs off arter 'em, I'll get a drop o' summat vaum and comfortable; so I goz me into a public-house, and calls for a pint o' beer with the chill off; and the beer, and the wexing about the ship, made me desperate hungry; and so I vaulks myself to a slap-bang shop, for half-a-pound of beef; and just as I'd got it up, to pop in the first bit, a woman, vaut I nows nothin' on, comes behind me, and vips it off the fork.—'Hallo! missis,' says I, 'don't you come that 'ere agen.'"—

Here his narrative was broken off by the magistrate desiring him to come to the watchman's charge at once; and he cut short his story by showing his wrist, marked with five little wounds, all a-row; which wounds, he said, were inflicted by the teeth of the lady who wanted his beef, and that he "got vell vhopp'd into the bargain by some of her chaps." Then the loss of his sheep, the bite of the lady, and "the vhopping of the chaps," made him "desperate out of humour," and meeting with his old friend the boot-closer, they went and got tipsy together, and, in that state, they thought to have a bit of fun with the watchman; but he was "sich a sulky chap," that he shut them up for it.

The magistrate told them to pay their fees, and go home, and mix a little wisdom with their merriment in future.

A LITTLE BIT OF A CAUTION.

Patrick Saul, a good-humoured looking Irishman, was charged with maliciously throwing a boy into a deep well, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

Robert Hemmet, the boy alluded to, was crossing a field at Walham-green, when he met the prisoner, who asked him to fetch him half-a-pint of porter, and, before he could reply, took him up in his arms, and threw him into a well, in which there was seven feet depth of water. Having thrown him in, he walked leisurely away, and had he not been fortunate enough at his first rising to catch hold of the curb of the well, he must certainly have been drowned.

Honest Patrick said he had no intention of injuring the boy; and he denied that he walked away from the well after having thrown him into it. "I only wanted to give him a dip, your honour, by way of a little bit of a caution; bekase he is always tazing me about my country and my languages, bekase I happens to be an Irishman, your honour; and, plase your honour, I never meets him not at no time, which is every hour in the days of every week almost, but he comes after me with a 'Hurrah, Pat! which way does the bull run now?' saving your honour's presence; and I can't get any pace for him at all, your honour."

The lad denied having insulted him in any way; but the magistrate did not seem to give much credit to this denial. He, however, asked the prisoner how he could think of adopting such a strangely violent mode of punishing the boy, as throwing him into the water. "Why, plase your honour, I larned a little bit of the law in my own country," replied honest Patrick, "and I understand thereby that I'd no right to take the law into my own hands, by bating him with a stick, so I dipp'd him in the water instead."

The magistrate laughed at this curious distinction in Patrick Saul's Irish law; and, after some further investigation, he was ordered to find bail for the assault only.

The magistrate observed this was a very serious charge, and told the prisoner he ought to be very thankful he was not standing at that bar on a charge of murder.

DUNNING EXTRAORDINARY.

Mr. Thomas Kingston, a military officer on the half-pay list, appeared in custody to answer the complaint of Mrs. Bridget Bull.

Mrs. Bridget Bull was an old lady of respectable appearance, very gentle in manners, and rather infirm. She deposed that the defendant, Mr. Kingston, was indebted to her husband the sum of four pounds six shillings and ninepence halfpenny, for goods sold and delivered; which debt he neglected to discharge, and thereby caused her husband and herself much trouble and inconvenience. That on Wednesday last, she, by desire of her husband, waited upon defendant with an earnest request that he would settle the account forthwith. Defendant said it was not convenient for him so to do, and she therefore took upon herself to remonstrate with him on the impossibility of their waiting any longer; whereupon he pushed her out of his room with such violence, that she fell down and bruised her arms and back shockingly.—In proof of the violence, she exhibited her arms to the magistrate, and doubtless they were bruised shockingly enough.

Mr. Kingston, "a goodly portly man, of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage—and, as we think, his age some fifty—or, by'r Lady, inclining to three-score," entered upon his defence with an impassioned eloquence that would have done credit even to a Phillips. He spoke of the nature of his income making it impossible for him to pay but at stated periods; and of the remorseless rapacity of tradesmen. He disclaimed all intention of hurting Mrs. Bull, expressed his pity for her bruises, and contended that what he had done he did in his own personal defence. After having expatiated on all these matters for some time, he, at the earnest request of the magistrate, descended to a particular answer to the charge at issue. In the first place, he said Mr. Bull came, in the morning, urging payment in no very gentle terms. He promised him payment as soon as he should receive money, and with that promise he departed apparently satisfied. In less than an hour, however, just as he had dressed, and was leaving home in search of money, Mrs. Bull, with bill in hand, presented herself before the door of the house, and positively forbade his egress. He requested her to get out of his way, and let him pass about his lawful business; but the more he requested, the more she refused. She declared she would never lose sight of him till he paid her the money, and she dared him to send for a constable to remove her. Then he told her he should retire to his own private apartment: and he warned her of the impropriety and unconstitutionality of following him thither, as he should consider it as his "castle," agreeably to the good old English adage, for such cases made and provided. She vowed she would follow him whithersoever he went, let the consequences be what they might. Nevertheless, he did not believe she would dare to put this threat in execution, and therefore he commenced a retreat towards his own private apartment; and, to his great astonishment, she followed him step by step, continually vociferating—"Pay me my bill! Pay me my bill!" Having reached the first landing of the stairs, he attempted a parley, in the hope of convincing her of the impossibility of his paying, without money to pay with; but to all he said, she only answered—"Pay me my bill!" He retreated farther up the stairs, remonstrating as he went, and she still following with the hateful cry of "Pay me my bill!" even into the sacred retreat of his own private apartment. What was to be done? Money he had none, at that moment—he was not ashamed to confess it. He called a council of war in his own mind, determined upon a system of operation, and quietly, but firmly, addressing Mrs. Bull, he said, "Mrs. Bull—you come here to seek money; I have none to give you—This room is my castle, and if you do not depart instanter, I shall be under the unpleasant necessity of compelling you." Having so said he advanced towards her, for the purpose of gently ejecting her from the apartment, but she was too quick for him; she eluded his grasp, and seizing him by the under-lip, led him by it in triumph round the room! What could be more annoying than this? To be led about by a violent old woman, holding by his stretched-out and bleeding under-lip!

The magistrate admitted that it was a very awkward situation.

Mr. Kingston continued.—Under the circumstances, he called out, as well as he could, for help; she cried out also—but it was the old inveterate cry of "Pay me my bill!" At this moment a noise of people approaching was heard, and she relinquished her hold upon his lip. He went to the door, and saw it was Mr. Bull, and a whole posse of his servants and neighbours, coming to the assistance of the lady; and seeing this, he resolutely seized her by the shoulders, put her out of the room, and locked the door before the great body of the enemy could reach it. This was the whole head and front of his offending. If the lady fell and hurt herself in consequence of his ejecting her, he was sorry for it; but she had brought it upon herself by her own misconduct. Finally, he submitted to the magistrate that he was justified in what he had done, inasmuch as the lady was a trespasser on his premises, and he had taken the only means in his power of removing the nuisance.

The magistrate held that the means he had used were improper. If, when she insisted upon remaining in his house, he had sent for a constable to remove her, he would have done right. On the contrary, he had taken the law into his own hands, and must therefore find bail to answer the assault at the Quarter Sessions.