"'Here, sir,' said a young Milesian, remarkable for nothing in particular; 'here I am, sir:' and Timothy Mulrooney stepped forward to the bar.
"The Judge addressed the prisoner:
"'Timothy,' said he, 'you are charged with disorderly conduct.'
"'Yes sir, he is, and it's me that chairges him wid that same,' spoke up an old woman, dressed in a heavy, blue cloth cloak, and an antiquated cap and bonnet.
"Judge.—Are you the witness?
"Woman.—Av coorse I am, your honor, and it's me pride that I can spake against Tim Mulrooney—the dirty tief of the world that he is (to the prisoner), and I wondher, Tim, that you're not ashamed to howld up yer head before his honor.
"Judge.—Madame, state the facts as they occurred.
"Witness.—Well, place your honor, it was on Friday mornin' or Saturday mornin', I don't know which; but be that as it may, it doesn't make anny difference, because it's about what followed that yer honor wants for to know, when I heard the horn of a fish-cairt in front of my door; sez I to myself, now Michael has come wid the porgies, and—
"Judge.—Who is Michael?
"Witness.—And don't ye know Michael, sure? he is my own child, and a betther-behaved and more dacent boy nor him never sang at a wake; and he can rade and write yer honor, as well as annybody, barrin' that whin he comes to the big words he has to skip them, and guess at what they mane; but that is not his fault, yer honor, for Michael never had any time to go to school, still—