O’Rourke. Thrue for yez, honey; and ye’ll find it the party that’s always right, jist.
Snowball. Hold yer hush, hold yer hush!
O’Rourke. Vat’s that, ye heathen? I’d jist like to pound that thick pate till I had yer spachless——so I would. Begorra, ye’d cry Guilty then.
Timorous. O, come, let’s have peace.
O’Rourke. Pace, is it? Ye’ve had a pace of my mind, onyhow.
Precise. No quarrelling, gentlemen. The quicker we decide this case the better. The government has charged one Peter Popgun with an attempt to defraud the revenue of the manufacturer’s tax on gunpowder. Its secret agents, suspecting said Popgun, made a descent upon his establishment, which is a country store, seized certain articles, such as saltpetre, sulphur, and charcoal, which they found in a certain little back shop, said articles being, in their opinion, used by said Popgun in the manufacture of gunpowder. The said Popgun denies the manufacture of gunpowder, and sets up a defence that the said articles are used by him in concocting a certain patent medicine, known as the “Medical Dead Shot.” Evidence has been produced on both sides. We have been charged to bring in a verdict on the evidence alone. I am quite convinced, by the testimony, that said Popgun did manufacture gunpowder, and evade the tax. Still, I should like to hear a free expression of opinion.
All (jumping up). Mr. Foreman.
Precise. Stop, stop. One at a time.
All. Yes, yes; one at a time, Mr. Foreman.
Precise. Stop, stop, I say. We can never settle it in this way.