Our three prisoners strutted into the box department at the English Opera-house, on the preceding night, at half price, and half seas over—whether with cape, black strap, or blue ruin, did not appear. Two of them were particularly half seas over, viz.—Mr. Bob Briggs, and Mr. Simeon Buck;—the other, Mr. Frederic William Diggles, was but so so. They first addressed themselves to the dress circle, when Mr. Bob Briggs, a slight-made, half-grown, flaxen-haired youth, instead of waiting for the box-keeper to open the door of the box in which he wished to make his début, set about kicking it with all his might. What gentleman of spirit would waste his breath in bawling for a box-keeper, when his own foot, well applied to the door, must inevitably compel the "spooneys" within to open it?—And so it turned out; some of the quiet ones within, hearing such a magnificent thundering, did open it; and Mr. Bob Briggs was just setting himself to make his entrée, room or no room, when one of the box-keepers came up and assured him the box was full, at the same time endeavouring to close the door again. "What d'ye mean by that, ye rascal!" cried Mr. Bob Briggs, "is that the way to treat a gentleman?" "Sir," said the box-keeper, "I mean no offence, and if you will walk this way I will endeavour to find you a seat upstairs." "Up stairs be d——d!" retorted Mr. Bob Briggs, "I shall go in here, come what come may, as old what's his name says; so come along, Sim Buck!—Hiccup." They instantly tried to force themselves into the box; the box-keeper and the company tried to keep them out; the constable was called; and, with some ado, he prevailed upon them to relinquish their attempt upon that particular box. But Mr. Constable had scarcely let them go, when the hubbub was renewed; and turning back, he found they had got the box-keeper up in a corner, and were trying, as he said, "to squeeze their money out of him;"—for they had made up their minds to stick to the dress circle, and since there was no room for them in the dress circle, they insisted upon having their half-crowns back again—"so fork out the blunt, you little rascal!" There was a great row; the entrance to the lobby was blocked up; the constable again interfered: Mr. Simeon Buck collared the constable; the constable collared Mr. Simeon Buck; Mr. Frederic W. Diggles caught hold of Mr. Simeon Buck's coat tail, and tried to pull him away from the constable; the constable only held him the faster, determined to send him to the watch-house; and there was poor Mr. Simeon Buck, see-sawing backwards and forwards, with the constable pulling away at his neck, and Mr. Frederic W. Diggles at his tail, for nearly ten minutes; whilst Mr. Bobby popped about the lobby like a pea upon a tobacco-pipe; squeaking for help, and wishing all contumacious constables, and "blackguard box-keepers," at the very diable! At length the constable prevailed, and Mr. Simeon Buck, half-strangled, and sadly damaged in his cravattery, was led away to the watch-house, followed by Mr. Bob Briggs, and Mr. Frederic W. Diggles; and there all three were safely stowed away for the night.
When brought before the magistrate, they defended themselves vigorously—alleging that there was plenty of room in the box they sought to enter, and that they had done nothing worthy of the misery that had been inflicted on them.
The magistrate told them he could see plainly how their case stood. They were young men of great respectability, he had no doubt; but on the night in question they had taken a little too much wine; and the wine had made them a little too presuming; and the presumption had excited them to disorderly conduct; a riot had ensued, assaults had been committed, and by a very natural consequence, they passed the remainder of the night in the watch-house.
Messrs. Simeon Buck and Bob Briggs were then ordered to find bail for the general riot; and Mr. Frederic W. Diggles, for assaulting the constable in the execution of his duty.
IRISH GALLANTRY.
Mrs. O'Reilly, wife of Laurence O'Reilly, "coal and potaty merchant, handy by Clear market," charged Mr. Ralph Hogan, a comely young man, of five-and-twenty, with attempting to make her a false woman to her own lawful married husband!
"And please your magistrate," said Mrs. O'Reilly, "Misther Hogan is a lodger of ours, and a civilish sort of a jantleman in gineral, and turncock to the New River Company"—
"Faith that I am, Misthress O'Reilly," responded Mr. Hogan, "any time these three years—come a fortnight after last St. Patrick's-day!"
"Very good, Misther Hogan; and ye see I wouldn't be telling a lie for the matter—why should I?" rejoined Mrs. O'Reilly very complacently;—and then, turning to the magistrate, she proceeded—"And plase your magistrate, Misther Hogan is a nice civilish sort of a young jantleman as a body would wish to be spaking to—ounly that time he couldna withstand timptation; and that was last Sathurday, after tay, when my husband wasn't in the place, and the childer were abed, and I was ironing their best bits of frocks for the Sunday, plase your magistrate. And Misther Hogan sat down by the fire mighty quiet—'And what do I owe you, Misthress O'Reilly,' says he—'for the rint?' says he. 'Just one week of it, Misther Hogan,' say I, 'for you're a nice man, and always true for the rint, and I likes to have you for a lodger overmuch.' Och! bad luck to me for saying that! for Mr. Hogan couldna stand the kind word at all, but must be flinging out his coortships at me—against both the law and the gospel—saving your magistrate's presence. 'And what would ye be after, Misther Hogan?' says I—'Don't you know I'm the mother of my husband's childer any time these thirteen long years—and himself coming in every minute may be, Misther Hogan!' says I. 'Gad's blood! Misthress O'Reilly,' says he, 'to the devil I will pitch him, for myself can't do without ye any longer at all!' and down on his knees he went to me at that time, mighty queer; and up he gathers himself again, and comed at me; and I tried to smooth him down with the hot-iron, but he wouldn't be quiet by no manes for me; and a noise comed to the door, and I squaled, and the neighbours comed trembling into the place, and there was an end on't—plase your magistrate."