"Yer honour," replied Tom Nagle, "I was hearty—but not drunk by no manes—bekase I'd only three pots of the beer, and a small drop of the gin."
"Could you walk steadily?" asked his worship.
"Is it that time, your honour?" said Tom Nagle: "Fait, then, I could walk as well as I can now—and better."
His worship observed that, however disreputable and illegal Tom Nagle's occupation might be, the bricklayer had done wrong in taking his property from him, and he should therefore take care that he was forthcoming at the Sessions, where Tom Nagle might indict him if he thought proper.
Tom Nagle thanked his worship, and the buckish young bricklayer was held to bail.
A WHITE SERGEANT, OR PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT.
Among the "disorderlies" brought before the magistrate from St. Clement's watch-house, was a Mr. H., a very respectable law-stationer.
Robert Hunt, a watchman, deposed, that between twelve and one o'clock in the middle of the night, he heard a lady's voice crying "Watch! Watch!—Stop him, Watch!" whereupon he turned himself round about, and seeing the prisoner, Mr. H., running with all his might, he as in duty bound, stopped him full butt, and "civilly seizing him by the collar," told him he must wait a-bit, till "the lady what skreeked should come up." But Mr. H., instead of waiting quietly, as a gentleman ought to do, slipped himself out of his coat, "momently as it were," showed fight, and gave him two or three desperate "punches on the belly" before he knew where he was. This being the case, he "twirled his rackler," and other watchmen coming up, Mr. H. was conveyed to the watch-house.