The witness who gave the following valuable testimony, however, was probably keeping strictly to fact. "I sees Phelim on the top of the wall. 'Paddy,' he says. 'What,' says I. 'Here,' says he. 'Where?' says I. 'Hush,' says he. 'Whist,' says I. And that's all."
The wit of the Irish Bar seems to infect even the officers of the Courts and the people who enter the witness-box. It is impossible, for example, not to admire the fine irony of the usher who, when he was told to clear the Court, called out: "All ye blaggards that are not lawyers lave the building."
Irish judges have much greater difficulties to contend against, because the people with whom they have to deal have a fund of ready retort. "Sir," said an exasperated Irish judge to a witness who refused to answer the questions put to him—"sir, this is a contempt of Court."—"I know it, my lord, but I was endeavouring to concale it," was the irresistible reply.
A certain Irish attorney threatening to prosecute a printer for inserting in his paper the death of a person still living, informed him that "No person should publish a death unless informed of the fact by the party deceased."
A rather amusing story is told of a trial where one of the Irish jurymen had been "got at" and bribed to secure the jury agreeing to a verdict of "Manslaughter," however much they might want to return one upon the capital charge of "Murder." The jury were out for several hours, and it was believed that eventually the result would be that they would not agree upon a verdict at all. However, close upon midnight, they were starved into one, and it was that of "Manslaughter." Next day the particular juryman concerned received his promised reward, and in paying it, the man who had arranged it for him remarked: "I suppose you had a great deal of difficulty in getting the other jurymen to agree to a verdict of 'Manslaughter'?"—"I should just think I did," replied the man. "I had to knock it into them, for all the others—the whole eleven of them—wanted to acquit him."
An Irish lawyer addressed the Court as Gentlemen instead of Your Honours. When he had concluded, a brother lawyer pointed out his error. He immediately rose and apologised thus: "In the heat of the debate I called your honours gentlemen,—I made a mistake, your honours."