"THE FINEST PLEASANTRY IN THE WORLD"

[" ... the Court was in an uproar from the moment the magistrates took their seats.... Counsel for the Crown was rudely interrupted by the defendants ... much to the delight of the crowd.... After some particularly riotous scenes the police were called on to clear the court.... One of the defendants was supplied with meat and bread in court."—Globe.]

Counsel for the Crown. The prisoners are charged——

A Defendant. Charged a dale too much for their accommodation. Oi'd loike a bit o' lunch to go on wid. Oi havn't aten a morsel since last time.

[Loud cries of "Shame on the polis for shtarvin' of um!" "Shtick up for yer roights, avick!" "To h——wid the magisthrates!"

Chairman of the Bench. If these observations are repeated, I shall clear the court.

Second Defendant. Arrah thin, clear yer own muddy brain first!

Chairman (indignantly). Are these indecent interruptions to continue?

Third Defendant. 'Coorse they are.

This is Mr. Denis O'Brien, who claims descent from the ancient kings of Ireland. But his pretensions just now do not soar above half a crown.

First Defendant. Oi tell ye O'im shtarvin for me lunch. Oi'll take a sandwich and a shmall bottle o' porther.

[Refreshments brought in by order of the magistrates. Defendants indulge in a sort of "free-and-easy" picnic in the solicitors' well, after which they light dirty clay pipes. Crowd bursts into loud cheers.

Counsel for the Crown (resuming). As I was saying, the defendants are charged with intimidation in this neighbourhood, and so complete has been their system that up to the present moment none of our witnesses have dared to venture near the precincts of the court. We have, however, now endeavoured to get them here by the aid of the police and a small covered van. If we succeed in this——

First Defendant. Ye will not. Whativer decision these fat-headed magistrates give, we shan't obey ut. Even if they acquitted us, we wouldn't walk out o' the coort! Ould Oireland for iver!

[Vociferous cheering, in the midst of which the court was cleared, and the magistrates, under police protection, left for home.

"Sure, Terence, if yez go to the front, kape at the back, or ye'll be kilt, O' know ut!" "Faith, an' isn't that the way Oi get my livin'?"

Father O'Flynn. "And now, Pat Murphy, in this season of Lent, what is it ye'll do by way of penance?" Pat Murphy. "Sure, then, I'll—I'll come an' hear your riverance prayche!"

The Vicar. "I have not seen your husband at church lately, Mrs. Murphy."

Mrs. Murphy. "Well, sir, I'm sorry to say as my old man is enjoying very bad 'ealth at present!"

THE WONDERS OF THE DEEP

Paddy. "Be jabers! the forrst thoime I iver saw rid hirrins swimmin' about aloive before!"

DECIMALS ON DECK

Irish Mate. "How manny iv ye down ther-re?!"

Voice from the Hold. "Three, sor!"

Mate. "Thin half iv ye come up here immadiately!"

Irish Maid. "Do you want a good beating, Master Jimmy, or do you not? Because, if you don't behave yourself this minute—you'll get both!"

Mistress. "Poor darling little Topsy! I'm afraid she will never recover. Do you know, Bridget, I think the kindest thing would be to have her shot, and put her out of her misery!"

Bridget. "'Deed, mam, I wouldn't do that. Sure she might get better after all, an' then ye'd be sorry ye'd had her kill'd!"

The Saxon Oppressor.—Saxon Tourist. "I suppose the English buy all the pigs that you wish to sell?"

Irish Peasant. "They do. Bad luck to 'em, the toirants!"

From Shannon Shore.—We extract the following momentous announcement from the Western Daily Press:—

"An Irish Member tells me that the motor craze is causing a revival of the Limerick lace trade. This particular kind of lace is, it is said, the best protection that a lady can have for her complexion when she is engaged in breaking the speech limit."

The information must be authentic, for there is no authority like an Irish Member where the "speech limit" is concerned.

An Irish Bull on the Line.—"The directors of the Dublin, Wicklow and Wexford Railway Company are prepared to receive tenders for the purchase of about 750 tons of old steel rails and permanent way scrap. The directors do not bind themselves to accept the lowest or any tender."—[Italics by Mr. Punch.]

FROM ERIN

Restaurant Waiter. "Bill, sorr? Yes, sorr. It's foive-and-sixpence including the cigyar, and that makes six shillings, sorr!"

"A Word and a Blow!"—First Gent (Celt). "Ye met'm at me brother's, the mimber, I think?" Second Gent (Saxon). "Yes, but I haven't any favourable impression of him—'n fact—um—he struck me as a liar." First Gent. "Did he, thin?! I hope ye hit'm back, surr!"

Boys at play (after an execution).—First Kilkenny "Boy." "Did ye see the cock-fightin' at Pat Daly's lasst night?" Second Kilkenny "Boy." "I did not." First Kilkenny "Boy." "Did ye see the 'boys' 'suffer-r,' this mornin'?" Second Kilkenny "Boy" (listlessly). "I did not." First Kilkenny "Boy." "Ah, thin, ye take no delight out o' yerself, at all, at all!"

Dooley. "What's the matter wid ye anyhow, Mick—all tattered an' torrun an' bitten an' scratched all over?"

Mick. "Ay, an' me own dog done it! I want home sober last noight, an' the baste didn't know me!"

Pat (who has been acting as guide, and has been pointing out the devil's this and the devil's that for the last two hours). "An' that's the devil's puch-bowl, yer anner." Tourist. "The devil seems to own a good deal of property about here, Pat!" Pat. "Ye're roight, yer anner. But, loike most av the other landlords, he spinds most av his toime in London!"

Traveller. "Get on, man; get on! Wake up your nag." Driver. "Shure, sorr, I haven't the heart to bate him." Traveller. "What's the matter with him? Is he sick?" Driver. "No, sor, he's not sick, but it's unlucky 'e is, sor, unlucky! You see, sor, every morning, afore I put 'im in the car, I tosses 'im whether 'ell have a feed of oats, or I'll have a dhrink of whisky, an' the poor baste has lost five mornings running!"

A SAFE WIN (?)

Pat (in corner, to chaffing friend, who knows him to have backed beaten horse). "Goin' to lose, am Oi! Faith, an' Oi'm not! Shure, Oi've got a troifle on every blissed horse in the race!"

A Pleasant Prospect.—Traveller (in Ireland). "Hi,—pull her up, man! Don't you see the mare is running away?" Paddy. "Hould tight, yer 'onor! For yer life don't touch the reins!—sure they're as rotten as pears! I'll turn her into the river at the bridge below here! Sure that'll stop her, the blagyard!"

Irish Waiter (to bow-legged traveller in the coffee-room). "Big pardon, sor. Hadn't your honour better move a little further from the foire?" Traveller (fiercely). "Eh? Wha' for? Wha'd ye mean!?" Irish Waiter. "Och shure, sor, yer legs is warpin'!—Och! phew! most turrible!"

Domestic Training.—District Visitor. "Well, Mrs. Murphy, I'm glad to hear your daughter has got a place as parlour-maid. Do you think she'll be up to the work?" Mrs. Murphy. "Ah, thin, why wouldn't she? Sure, isn't she used to the ways at home?"

A Literal Fact.—The Young Master (to new valet from the Emerald Isle). "I say, confound you, what have you been doing with my boots here?" (The night had been rainy.) Pat. "Shure, sorr, you tould me lasst evening to putt 'm on the thrays!"

Irish Architecture.—Angler (in Ireland). "Hullo, Pat, what are you about now?" Pat. "Shure, I'm raisin' me roof a bit, yer honour-r!!"

Blarney.—Tall Yankee (just arrived). "Guess your legal fare is just sixpence——" Dublin Carman. "Sure, me lord, we take some chape jacks at that—but I wouldn't disgrace a gintleman av your lordship's quality be drivin' him at a mane pace t'rough the public sthreets—so I tuk upon myself to give your lordship a shillin'sworth both av stoyle an' whipcard!!"

Word-painting.—Sportsman (who has just lost a good fish). "That was a good one, Tim." Tim. "'Doed then it was! He was as long as an umbrella, and had a side on him like a shop shutter!"

"General Utility."—(Scene—Hotel Stables, North of Ireland.) Captain. "Hullo, Pat! What the deuce are you doing to the old mare?" Pat. "Well, you see, Capt'in, our old black hearse horse went lame yesterday that was wanted for Squire Doherty's funeral, so I'm paintin' up the ould grey for the service. You see her body won't show, by rason o' the housin's, and I'll have to wash her clane ag'in for Miss McGinnety's weddin' on the morrow!!"

"Exclusive Dealing."—Irish Landlord (boycotted). "Pat, my man, I'm in no end of a hurry. Put the pony to, and drive me to the station, and I'll give ye half a sovereign!" Pat (Nationalist, but needy). "Och shure, it's more than me loife is worth to be seen droiving you, yer honour. But"—slily—"if yer honour would jist droive me, maybe it's meself that moight venture it!"

Generally Applicable.—(Scene—Irish Land Court). Sub-Commissioner. "Now, Murphy, have you effected any improvement in this farm?" Tenant. "I have, yer honour! Iver since I got it I've been improvin' it. But, by jabers, it's that sort o' land, the more ye 'mprove 'it the worrse it gets!!"

[Court reduces the rent 25 per cent.!

"A Pleasant Prospect."—Car-Driver (to new agent). "Begorra, the wondher is he wasn't shot long before—but, shure, they say, what's iverybody's business is nobody's business!"

Life in Leitrim.—Saxon Angler. "Oh, but I can't try for a salmon. I haven't got a licence——" Native. "Is it a licence ye want to kill a fish? Shure ye might kill a man or two about here an' nobody'd say a word t' ye!"

Gentleman (to Irish ostler, who has brought out their horses). "That's my horse."

Ostler. "Yes, sorr, Oi know that; but Oi didn't know which of the two was the other gintleman's, sorr!"

"Bedad! I don't like him at all. He walks lame in his trot."

Irish Jarvey. "Let me dhrive yer honour to Duneen Head."

English Tourist. "I have seen that, Pat. I went there two years ago."

Irish Jarvey. "Ah, yer honour, shure they 've added to the scenery since that toime!"

ANOTHER IRISH OBSTRUCTION

Colonel O'Funk. "I say, my man, what's on the other side of that rail?"

Pat. "Nothing."

Colonel O'Funk. "Then, will you take it down, and I'll clear it?"

Odd!—The Colonel (stopping at Irish Inn). "Look here. What's the meaning of this?" Boots. "Bedad! An' I've got just such another quare pair down below!"

The Rector (to Irish Plasterer). "That mortar must have been very bad." Pat (with a grin). "Faix, ye cann't expict the likes o' good Roman cimint to stick to a Protestant church, sorr!!"

THE SIGHTS OF DUBLIN

Irish Car-Driver. "Shure that's the Custom-House, sor; but it's only the rare av it you'll be seeing this side, sor—the front's behind!"

A FAIR OFFER

Athletic Barman. "Now, if you don't take yourself off, I'll precious soon turn you out!"

Pat (with a yell). "Tur-r-rn me out! Is it tur-r-rn me out! Thin, bedad! ccome outside, an' tur-r-rn me out!!"

Tourist. "When does the next train start for Cork, porter?"

Irish Porter. "She's just gone, sorr!"

THE NEW CHIMNEY

Mike. "Faith, Tim, ye haven't got ut sthraight at all. It lanes over to the roight!"

Tim. "Oh, ye're wrong. It's plumb ex-hact! It's myself that plumbed ut mosht careful. Indade, if ut has a fault, it lanes over an inch or tew to the left, when ye look at ut from behoind!!"

Irish "as she is spoke."

Degeneracy.—"Shure an your honour, it's things was mighty diffrunt in the ould days when the ginthry be's a cummin' to the parties! 'Tis as much as three pound I'd be takin' of a night! But now—why, divil a bit beyant a few coppers ever I sees at all! Mind you, this evenin' I puts a decoy half-crown on the plate myself, and bedad if they didn't take it ov me! But wait—I'll do them the next time—for begorra I'll have it glued to the plate!"

Seasoned.—Lady Tourist. "Are the sheets well aired?"

Irish Chambermaid. "Troth, and they are, ma'am; for the sayson is three months begun, and they've been well used since!"