But, quitting recollections which, from subsequent events, have been rendered painful to me, perhaps the insertion of the following account of the extraordinary evidence given by an Irish sergeant before a court-martial may be tolerated, if only in consideration of its being the last of my Irish anecdotes.
President.—Well, sergeant, recollect you are upon your oath to speak the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. State what you know touching the crime against the prisoner.
Sergeant.—I will, your honour. The other morning, when I was fast asleep on my cot, with my eyes open, I heard the prisoner there himself say to Patrick Gaffy, in a whisper—and sure I could tell his voice a mile off if I could hear him—that he would never rest day or night till he had kilt and murdered Corporal Ragon, becase he was always down upon him, and he would never let him alone besides.
President.—You have a strange way, sergeant, in giving your evidence: you say that you heard the prisoner, when you were asleep, tell Patrick Gaffy, in a whisper, that he would kill Corporal Ragon. Mind what you are about, Sir.
Sergeant.—A whisper, your honour! Fait, but it was such a whisper as you might have heard, if you had been on the look-out, all over the barrack, with your eyes shut.
President.—But you say that you were asleep?
Sergeant.—So I was, your honour; but the noise waked me; and I shut my eyes so that I might be sure I heard him.
President.—Can you hear in your sleep?
Sergeant.—Fait, can I. About a month ago, I was as sound as a mackerel, when, sure enough, I heard a man calling me by my name; and, when I opened my eyes, I saw him standing by my bedside, and he said he had been calling me for a long time.
President.—Perhaps you can see in your sleep also?