"Mr. Warbler.—'Twas night, and gloomy darkness had her ebon veil unfurled, and nought remained but gas-lamps to light up this 'ere world. The heavens frowned; the twinkling orbs, with silvery light endowed, were all occult on t'other side a thunderin' big black cloud. Pale Luna, too, shed not her beams upon the motley groups which lazily were standing round like new disbanded troops—
"Judge.—It's not to hear such nonsense that I occupy this seat—
"Mr. Warbler.—A death-like stillness e'er prevailed on alley, pier and street.
"Judge.—To listen to such stuff, sir, I can't sacrifice my time—
"Mr. W.—Don't discombobilate my thought and interrupt my rhyme; I think that when misfortune is put on its defence, poetic justice, logic, law, as well as common sense, demand its story all be heard, unless ex parte proof is to send poor friendless cusses underneath the prison's roof. Shall I proceed?
"Judge.—Proceed; but don't make your tale too long.
"Mr. W.—I'll heed your words, depend upon't. I own that I was wrong in rushing headlong as I did into inebriation, but let me question now the Court; is it not a palliation of the depth of human guilt if malice don't incite to break in divers fragments State laws wrong or right, and when only human appetite, uncontrolled by human reason leads men of genius, oftentime, the dish of life to season with condiments which pro tem. the mental palate tickle, yet very often, in the end, put human joys in pickle which ain't so cussed funny; though all of the expense of grub and the et ceteras the public pays for; hence, I ask this Court (believing that its feelings are not hampered) if justice should not ever be with human mercy tempered?
"Judge.—Perhaps. Now, tell me, Warbler, where you bought your liquor.
"Mr. W.—Anon I'll tell you. Last week, Judge, prostrate was I, far sicker than to me's agreeable, with the diarrhea chronic, and sympathizing friends advised that I should take some tonic. I asked them what: at once they said, 'Get some lager-bier.' 'Twas got. 'Drink freely, boy,' said they, 'nothing need you fear, but you'll be up and on your legs.' The lager-bier 'was took;' soon every object in my sight had a very drunken look. Lager-bier (to German ears the words may be euphonic.) Tonic, certainly, it was, but decidedly too—tonic. Abnormal thirst excited it, and I went to great excesses (the statement's quite superfluous, my nose the fact confesses). Last night, attracted by the scenes which Gotham's streets present, I dressed myself in sombre clothes, and out of doors I went; to quench my thirst did I imbibe the more of lager-bier at Hoffman's on the corner, several squares from here. No more know I, 'cept in the morn I wakened from my sleep, and having sowed, perhaps I'll learn that likewise I must reap.
"Judge.—Have you got ten dollars?