and after the Theatre was closed, he went to the Rainbow to sup; and,
after the supper was over, he returned through Temple-bar, towards his
home in the West, arm in arm with a friend; and that friend was smoking a
cigar. In this way they walked along very comfortably--"by none offended,
and offending none"--quietly discussing the beauty of the night, and the
merits of the players, and the supper, and the wine, and the waiters at
the Rainbow, and every thing of that sort, until, just as they emerged
from beneath the arch-way of Temple-bar, Miss Charlotte Long, in passing,
squeezed the dexter hand of his smoking friend. Now, whether it was that
his smoking friend had "a hydrophobia" of ladies in general, or whether he
_smoked_ Miss Charlotte Long's _character_ in particular, Mr. Smith could
not say; but so it was, that Miss Charlotte Long no sooner squeezed his
smoking friend's hand, than his smoking friend _smoked_ Miss Charlotte
Long's _countenance_, by puffing a cloud from his cigar at it. Mr. Smith
could not, in justice, be held responsible for his friend's want of
gallantry; but nevertheless Miss Charlotte Long instantly gave Mr. Smith
such a smack on his nice round blooming cheek, that all the avenues of the
Temple echoed to the blow; and he, fearing the smack would be repeated
pushed her from him, and she lost her balance. "And this is the whole
truth of the matter," quoth Mr. Smith.
Miss Charlotte Long, on the other hand, declared that she never touched
the filthy fist of the smoker--but that as she was quietly walking along,
he rudely puffed the smoke in her face--a thing which she could not
a-bear--and then Mr. Smith knocked her down as flat as possible--like a
brute as he was.
The worthy magistrate having listened to these counter-statements with
great patience, expressed a wish to see the smoker, and that gentleman
immediately came forward; but unfortunately _his_ recollection of the
affair had entirely evaporated with the fumes of his own cigar; and
eventually the double charge was dismissed, upon each party paying their
own fees; the magistrate admonishing Mr. Smith to keep better hours in
future, if he valued either his morals or his complexion.
THE WEDDING RING.
Mrs. Catherine Casey was charged with having purloined Mrs. Judith
O'Leary's wedding ring.
The ladies are both natives of "the Emerald gem of the western world"--the
green land of shamrocks and shilelaghs. They came to this country together
in the days of their youth; they toiled together year after year in the
sunny harvest fields; they got comfortable husbands to them; they grew
old together; they ate, they drank, they smoked together; they were
gossips--"sworn gossips and friends." "But what is friendship but a name!"
saith the poet.--Let Mrs. Judith O'Leary tell her own tale.
"Yer honour, this is Misthress Casey--the gossip she was to me many a long
year in ould Ireland and since we comed to this; and much is it I made of
her at all times, your honour--for we got our bits o' livings, and we ate,
and slept, and we drink't together"--
"And got _drunk_ together," said his worship.
"Faith did we, your honour--and wonst _too often_;" rejoined Mrs. Judith
O'Leary, making an _illigant_ curt'sy. "T'other day, your honour, we were
taking the drops at the Blue Pig, and talking of the ould consarns, and
the talk came up, and the drops went down softly and swately--that's the
throats of us, your honour; and by-and-by, says Misthress Casey to me,
says she--'Misthress O'Leary,' says she to me, 'let's be home to our own
place.'--'And so I will, Misthress Casey,' says I--'ounly we'll have
t'other drop with the three halfpence that's left in the bottom of
it,'--that's the pocket your honour. 'Gad's blood, we'll have t'other
drop, gossip,' says I to her. And sure we had, and it was a drop too much
for the head of me--it went round like the hind wheel of an
_ackney_--rowling and rowling, your honour, and I rowl'd home mighty queer
that day; and I laid meself down on my own bed; and the child I had be my
own lawful husband, Tom Leary, laid be the side of me fast asleep--ounly
sober as a judge was the child at that same time--why shouldn't it? And
when I waked up, says I to me--'how comed I here,' says I, 'in my own
bed,' says I, 'before dark?' says I to myself; but I couldn't tell, for
the life of me, your honour, in regard of the gin--that's the _blue ruin_,
as Misther Jenkins the pratur marchant calls it, your honour. 'Well,' says
I to meself, 'sure I'll get up,' says I, 'for what's the use of lying here
like a baste,' says I, 'when Tom Leary isn't in it, and is coming to it
may be?' And I got up and shook meself, and got the water to wash my
hands, and I looked at 'em--that's the fingers, but d--l a _ring_ was on
'em! '_Deevle_ burn ye, Kate Casey,' thinks I to myself, 'but ye've got
the bit of gould from me at last!' and I went to her place--that's in
Bainbridge-street, your honour; 'and Misthress Casey,' says I, 'where's me
_ring_?' 'What ring?' says she.--'My wedding ring that I got with Tom
Leary,' says I.--'_Deevle_ a know I know!' says she.--'Don't be tellin the
lie to the face of me,' says I, 'for sure there's them that seen ye
_slither_ it off the finger of me,' says I.--'Be the mother of Moses! it's
a graat lie!' says she.--'Thank ye, Misthress Casey,' says I.--'Take
_that_ for yerself, Mrs. O'Leary,' says she"--
"And what was _that_?" asked his worship.
"Faith, a beautiful blow on the mouth of me!" your honour, replied Mrs.
O'Leary--laying hold of her upper lip, and turning it inside out for his
worship's inspection.
But his worship declined inspecting it; and Mrs. O'Leary, having let her
lip down again, proceeded to state that, having got this beautiful thump
on the mouth of her, she did not choose to have any more to say to Mrs.
Casey, but forthwith handed her over to an officer.
The Officer in question said he had learned that Mrs. Casey pawned a
wedding ring on the day of the row, but she redeemed it in a few hours
afterwards, and that was all the pawnbroker knew about it.
Whilst Mrs. O'Leary was telling her story, Mrs. Casey could hardly be
restrained from opening upon her at almost every sentence. She seemed to
be bursting with words; and, no doubt, it was a great relief to her when
his worship at length gave her leave to speak by asking, "Where is this
poor woman's ring?"
"Honour bright! your worship," replied Mrs. Casey, in a voice as
melodious as a cracked bagpipe--"Honour bright! your worship; _deevle's_
the bit I knows about it at all! Och! Mrs. O'Leary, but yer a bad one
after all of it," &c. "You knows you'll say any thing but your prayers,
Mrs. O'Leary, and meself never to find it out till this present
time!--Your worship, she gived the ring to a _man she has_!"
"Och! an is it the likes of _me_, with three childer and Tom Leary!" cried
Mrs. O'Leary, lifting up her hands and eyes in astonishment at the
scandal.
Mrs. Casey persisted in her story, and at last the charge was dismissed
for want of evidence.--In ten minutes after, they were seen together at
"The Grapes," in Bow-street, taking their drops, as good friends as ever
they were.
FLAGELLATION _versus_ PHYSIC.
W. C., Esq., a gentleman of family and fortune, was brought up in custody
of an officer, charged with assaulting Mr. H., a highly respectable
surgeon and apothecary, residing in the Strand.
Either party was attended by a solicitor, and the following is a "succinct
synopsis" of the affair.
Mr. H. is an elderly personage, of very gentlemanly deportment, and Mr. C.
is a tall, athletic gentleman, in the full bloom of five-and-twenty, or
thereabout. Some three or four yeas ago, Mr. H. had the honour of curing
Mr. C. of some indisposition--no matter what; but the _honour_ was all he
had for his services; for though he sent in his bill, amounting only to
7_l._ 3_s._, Mr. C. neglected to discharge it. He, however, made
_promises_ in plenty, time after time; and if Mr. H. could have fed upon
this "_cameleon's_ dish," it would have been all very well, and this
assault would never have happened. But he could not--he had no relish for
it--he knew that nobody could "fatten capons so;" and therefore he
determined to have something more substantial. In consequence of this
determination, he lost no opportunity of dunning Mr. C. for the money; but
unfortunately the opportunities were very rare, as Mr. C. was fond of
variety, and had a knack of frequently, very frequently, changing his
residence; so that Mr. H. never knew "where to have him." At length, on
Wednesday morning last, he heard he was in town, and he instantly sent one
of his young men to his lodgings, with an earnest demand of payment. The
young man returned, saying Mr. C. was not risen, nor would he be up till
after eleven o'clock. At eleven o'clock Mr. H. himself went out, with the
intention of repeating the demand in person; and, on his way, he met Mr.
C. in the Strand, who, on perceiving Mr. H., immediately crossed over to
the opposite side of the street. Mr. H. crossed also, or, rather,
like-wise--and so they met full butt, as it were; whereupon Mr. H., after
the usual salutation of well-bred people, requested instant payment of his
account. Mr. C. said it was not convenient to him to pay it at that
moment. "Will you give me your word of honour that you will pay it in a
week?" demanded Mr. H. "I tell you, Sir, it shall be paid in a few days,"
replied Mr. C. "Well, Sir, I'll tell you what--if it is not paid in the
course of a week, I will put it into the hands of my solicitor!" rejoined
Mr. H. "Sir!" retorted Mr. C., "if you say that again I will flog you
round the place--I will flog you every time I meet you; and if it was not
for the disagreeableness of raising a crowd around us, I would flog you
now, Sir!" And, so saying, he held his stick over the head of Mr. H. in
token thereof.
This was the whole amount of the assault complained of--for it did not
appear that he did flog, neither did it appear how Mr. H. "backed out of
the concern."
Mr. C. began his defence by observing that the account had not been
standing more than _two_ years; whereas Mr. H. had called it _three_ or
_four_ years. The account itself, he added, was a mere trumpery affair,
not of the slightest consequence to him; in proof whereof he was ready to
pay it that moment, before the magistrate--
"Oh! I shall take care to _make_ you pay it!" exclaimed the agitated Mr.
H.
SIR R. BIRNIE.--Had you not better receive the money now it is offered to
you, Mr. H.?--You know the old adage says, "If you will not when you may,"
&c.
Mr. H. thanked his worship for his suggestion, and said--to be sure--that
was another affair--and if Mr. C. were actually to tender him the
money--he did not know that he should, altogether, refuse it.
Mr. C. instantly took out a handful of sovereigns, and tossed the amount
of the claim down upon the table; and it as instantly slided into the
right-hand breeches pocket of Mr. H.
This interesting ceremony ended, Mr. C. resumed his defence. He denied
that he had menaced Mr. H. in the violent manner he had described. It was
true he had raised his stick for a moment, but it was only in consequence
of Mr. H. exclaiming, loud enough to be heard by many people passing, "Oh!
Sir--everybody knows what you are!"
SIR R. BIRNIE said the affair hardly amounted to a breach of the peace,
and unless Mr. H. could swear that he went in "bodily fear" of Mr. C., he
certainly should not feel justified in holding the latter gentleman to
bail.
"_Bodily fear!_" cried Mr. H.--and snatching up his hat he left the
office, uttering something which to us sounded very much like "_Fudge!_"
TOM SAYERS.
Tom Sayers, a fellow of lofty dimensions was brought up on an assault
warrant, charged with having broken the nose of one Mr. Bybie Garmondsway,
against the peace, &c.
Tom Sayers is a man who, during the late Peninsular war, "sought the
bubble reputation, e'en in the cannon's mouth," as a British grenadier.
Whether he found it or not, we are unable to say; but certain it is that
he now enjoys the reputation of being an admirable culinary bricklayer--a
dexterous setter of kitchen ranges; and with this reputation he is fully
satisfied--handling his trowel, and dandling his little ones, and
cherishing his wife, and drinking his beer, in peace and thankfulness.
Mr. Bybie Garmondsway, notwithstanding his uncommon name, is as common a
looking concern as possible--a dirty little land-lubber in a seaman's
dress, with a queer nose, queerly decorated on this occasion with divers
broad straps of sticking-plaister--_a la Baron Munchausen_.
"An please your worship," said Mr. Bybie Garmondsway, with his hat grasped
in both hands, and giving the floor a long scrape with his off foot--"an
please your worship, last Tuesday night, as ever was, I goz into the
Crown, in Seven Diles, thinking of nothin at all."
"Very likely,"--said his worship.
"Thinking of nothin at all," continued Mr. Bybie Garmondsway, "an ax'd for
a pint of porter; an there were this here gentleman, Mr. Sayers, singing a
song; an, becoz I said the song was all _gammon_, he punch'd my head, as
your worship may see by my nose, an the landlord chucked me out before I'd
half drink'd my beer!--an that's the whole truth about it, as Mr. Sayers
can't deny if he's a mind to speak."
"I shall speak when his honour gives me orders," said tall Tom
Sayers--drawing up himself to his full height, squaring his shoulders,
turning out his toes, and placing his thumbs exactly in line with the
seams of his dusty trousers--"I shall speak when his honour gives me
orders."
His honour told him he was ready to hear anything he might have to say.
"Thank your honour," said honest Tom Sayers--with a hand-over-brow salute,
and without losing the twentieth part of an inch in his altitude--"thank
your honour! Your honour sees that I had been setting a stove grate and
oven, for the landlord of the Crown here; with which setting he was
pleased to say he was very well satisfied: and he asked me to take a pint
of beer in token of the same. Just then, in comes my wife, with my child
in her arms, to see whether I had done my job, and to walk home with me. I
was pleased to see her, your honour--God bless her!--and I was pleased to
see my child, and I was pleased that the landlord was pleased with my
work; and so I took the child on my knee, and my wife and I sat down,
side by side on the settle, to drink the pint of beer the landlord had
given me. There he is! If I tell a lie, let him say so."
His worship told him he believed every word he had said.
"Why, thank your honour again, and I'll not disgrace your belief,"
rejoined the veteran grenadier. "As I was saying, your honour, I and my
wife sat down kindly to drink the pint of beer--the beer the landlord gave
me, your honour, because I had done my duty by his oven; and the child sat
laughing on my knee, and an old comrade came in, and we drank together in
memory of old times abroad, and in the pride of my heart--God forgive
me!--I sung the '_Battle of Barossa Plains_.'--It was a battle I served
in, your honour, to the best of my ability, and my comrade had served by
the side of me; and we thought no harm or offence to anybody. But this
_thing_ here--half sailor and half _scamp_ (meaning Mr. Bybie
Garmondsway), he must begin _mocking_ me whilst I was singing, and
insulting all land battles whatever. I asked him to be quiet, and he
wouldn't; and after a bit the landlord marched him out, and told him to go
home to his own quarters. Three times the landlord turned the envious
lubber out, but he was no sooner out than he was in again, challenging me
to fight. At last, your honour, I put down the child, and made a charge
upon him, thinking to put him out in the street--for as to _fighting_ with
such a thing! that's neither here nor there; but I no sooner got hold of
him, than, like a false lubber as he is, he turned about and tried to--to
do me a private injury, your honour!--and then, sure enough, I did let fly
my fist at his face; and, I if have done wrong, I must answer for it."
The landlord substantiated every part of honest Tom's story, and the
magistrate instantly dismissed the complaint; at the same time telling Mr.
Bybie Garmondsway that a civil tongue was the best preventive of a bruised
nose.
THE DUST WHOPPER AND THE WATERMAN.
Mr. Daniel Butcher, "a jolly young waterman," was charged with assaulting
Mr. Robert Wingrove, a carpet beater--commonly called "Bob Wingrove, the
_dust-whopper_."
Mr. Bob Wingrove deposed thus:--"Your worship, I beats carpets and does
portering, by which means I was looking out of my window yesterday
afternoon, when I saw a servant _gal_[23] go by, which belongs to a house
what I beats for, by which means I runs down stairs to speak to her, and
Dan Butcher, this here chap in the scarlet jacket, comes up to me, and
without saying '_by_ your leave,' or '_with_ your leave,' he took me two
smacks in the head, right and left."
"Why did he strike you?" asked the magistrate.
"Aye, that's what I wants to know, your worship!" replied Mr. Bob.
"Then suppose you ask him now," rejoined his worship; "ask him, why he
gave you the two smacks, as you call them."
Mr. Bob, turned, and looked Mr. Dan in the face, as though about to put
the question to him; but Mr. Dan smiled him out of countenance, and Mr.
Bob, turning back to his worship, said--"It's no use axing him anything,
your worship, for he's got a spite agen me ever since I was in prison for
saying a few words to a servant _gal_ what brought me here on a peace
warrant, by which means he never sees me but he peeps through his fingers
at me, as much as to say, 'who peep'd through the prison bars?'--He's a
great blackguard, though he's a little chap, your worship; and he never
meets my wife, Mrs. Wingrove, but he cries--'Here's a charming young
broom!' when my wife is _not a charming young broom_--as all her
neighbours can testify, but as honest a woman as ever broke bread--only
that, like all other women, your worship, she likes a drop of something
comfortable now and then."
Mr. Bob's landlady corroborated all his evidence general and particular,
and her evidence closed the case for the prosecution.
Mr. Dan Butcher, in his defence, admitted that he _took_ Mr. Bob Wingrove
_two smacks in the head_, as that gentleman had deposed, but he assured
his worship they were in return for a _punch in the stomach_ which Mr. Bob
Wingrove had _lent_ him; and he called two witnesses to prove that Mr. Bob
was the aggressor.
Both these witnesses declared that Dan Butcher was walking quietly under
Mr. Bob's window, singing a song, and "giving no offence to nobody," when
Mr. Bob ran down stairs, and struck him in the bowels "without any
_privy-cation_ whatsoever."
"And pray what song was he singing?" asked his worship; "I have no doubt
it was a song intended to insult him."
"Your worship, I don't know what song it was," replied the first
witness--"it was a funny sort of song enough, and there was a _tithery um_
at the end of it."
The second witness, however, after much pressing, admitted that it was a
song called "_Bob's in the watch-house_," and made by one of the
Hungerford-stairs poets in commemoration of poor Mr. Bob's imprisonment.
Mr. Dan could not deny that he sung this song vexatiously, and he was
ordered to find bail--So, then, it was Mr. _Bob's_ turn to sing "_Dan's_
in the watch-house."
A GROWN GENTLEMAN.
A very precise, well-dressed young man presented himself before the
magistrates, saying he had a very great desire to punish a Mr. Bradbury
for _extortion_, _abuse_, and _assault_, and he would be particularly
obliged to his worship if he would assist him in so doing.
His worship desired him to describe the nature of his complaint more
minutely; whereupon the gentleman went into a long and rather melancholy
story, from which it appeared--
Firstly, that Mr. Bradbury lives in the Strand, and is famous for
teaching _grown_ gentlemen to write a fine free hand in six lessons, for
the trifling sum of one guinea, though they might previously be only
capable of scrawling "pot-hooks and links."--Secondly, that the applicant
being in this unfortunate predicament, applied to Mr. Bradbury for his
assistance.--Thirdly, that Mr. Bradbury undertook to make him a ready
writer for the sum of one guinea; and also to teach him how to make a pen,
without any additional charge.--Fourthly, that he went through his six
lessons in writing, when Mr. Bradbury demanded his guinea.--Fifthly, that
he gave Mr. Bradbury a sovereign and a half-crown, desiring him to take
his guinea therefrom.--Sixthly, that Mr. Bradbury, instead of returning
him one shilling and sixpence, returned him a sixpence only, stating that
he retained the extra shilling for stationery; this was the "_extortion_"
he complained of.--Seventhly, that he remonstrated with Mr. Bradbury on
this stationery charge; and moreover complained to him that he had not
sufficiently instructed him in the art of making a good pen.--Eighthly,
that Mr. Bradbury replied he should teach him no more, for he had not
conducted himself like a _gentleman_.--Ninthly, that he told Mr. Bradbury
he should summon him before the Lord Mayor.--Tenthly, that Mr. Bradbury
replied, that he cared no more for the Lord Mayor or the Lord _Horse_
either, than he did for him. This was the "_abuse_" he complained
of.--Eleventhly, that, on his attempting to remonstrate farther, Mr.
Bradbury got up from his desk, clenched his fist, and told him if he did
not walk off quietly, he would "_bundle_ him down stairs." This was the
"_assault_" he complained of; and having stated all this, he respectfully
submitted that he had made out his case.
"And pray, Sir," asked the magistrate, "did he, in effect, '_bundle_' you
down stairs?" "No, Sir," replied the gentleman, "but I think he would if I
had not walked away very rapidly." "Then, Sir, I am sorry I cannot
accommodate you by interfering," rejoined his worship;--"if you had
undergone the _bundling_ operation, something might have been done,
perhaps; but as it is, I don't see that you have any redress for your
manifold grievances, except you sue him in the Court of Conscience for the
recovery of the _shilling's-worth_ of stationery; and the issue of that
measure would, in my opinion, be very doubtful."
The gentleman looked at his worship, then at his own hat, then at his
worship again, and then he slowly withdrew; seemingly quite at a loss what
to make of the matter.
DRURY-LANE MISSES.
Mrs. Margaret Bunce, a lean, dirty, slatternly matron, apparently between
fifty and sixty years old, complained that she had been grossly assaulted
by Miss Eliza Pritchard and Miss Hannah Maria Bagwell--a pair of little
stunted damsels from the back settlements of Drury-lane; who, according to
their own account, maintain themselves "very _cumfuttably_ by going a
_charrin_."
"Please your worship," said Mrs. Bunce, "I lives in Short's Gardens, and
these ladies lives in Charles-street, and I can get no comfort for 'em
night nor day. They'm always at me for everlasting, go out when I will;
and yesterday _arter_noon they pounced upon me as I was standing in
_Doory_-lane, and give me this here black eye; and my nose has been as
yellow as a _marygoold_ ever since, as your worship may see."
"Have you any witness?" asked the magistrate.
"Yes, your worship--I was standing talking to this 'ere _lady_ at the very
time," replied Mrs. Bunce, pointing to a meagre young woman in a ragged
hurden apron, a worn-out man's coat, and an old muddy hat, something in
the form of a barber's basin. "I was talking to this 'ere lady at the very
time."
The _lady_ came forward, dabbed a court'sy, and wiped her face with the
corner of her apron.
"Oh! _this_ lady," said his worship; "and what may _your_ name be,
Miss?"--"Julia Legge, your worship."--"And pray may I ask what occupation
you follow--Miss Julia Legge?"
"I sells _vauter creeses_ and _sweeps crossings_, your worship," replied
the gentle Julia; and then she wiped her weather-beaten charms again, and
substantiated every word Mrs. Margaret Bunce had uttered.
"_Miss_ Eliza Pritchard and _Miss_ Hannah Maria Bagwell, what have you to
say for yourselves?" asked the magistrate.
They answered--"in a joint and corporate voice," "Vy, your Vorship, ve've
this 'ere to say--as ve never did _nuthin_ o' the sort; and that there
lady (Miss Julia Legge) vasn't there at the time."
Mrs. Bunce and the gentle Julia hearing this, lifted up their eyes and
hands in astonishment, and opened a fresh volley of evidence, which
concluded with a declaration from Mrs. Bunce, that she never went to see
her own mother that they did not lie in wait for and attack her.
"Your _mother_!" said the magistrate, "why how old are _you_?"
"_Me_, your worship--why I'm turned of forty."
"And pray how old may your mother be?"
"Why, your worship," replied Mrs. Bunce, doubtingly, "I reckon she must be
_fifty_--or thereabouts!"
There was a general and very ungallant burst of laughter at the broad
guess; and poor Mrs. Bunce seemed a good deal confused; but at length the
gentle Julia took upon her fair self to say that Mrs. Bunce's mother was
_seventy-eight_, to her own certain knowledge.