'Shure, it's consyintious I am, an' exempted I want to be.'
The Commissioner had not forgotten Barney, so, to humor his whim, asked him if he would take the affidavit, having first read that paper to him.
'Afther David, the divil! It's me exemption papers I'm afther,' he replied.
'Have you conscientious scruples against fighting?' asked the Commissioner.
'Och, it's the schrupils an' dhrams both I have. I get 'em bad, too, yer honor.'
'Well, Barney,' said 'his honor'—putting the same question to him that he asked all others who offered the conscientious plea (and who always gave an affirmative answer)—'if your wife was being murdered, would you stand by a silent spectator?'
'Divil a silent spectator! D'yees take me fer a haythen? Be the howly! show me the scallywag that would harrum a hair o' the ole 'oman's hid, an' I'd give him sich a pelt on the gob, that he would think he'd got forninst a horse's hoof!'
'Then we can't exempt you, Mr. Mullen.'
'Mither ov Moses!' exclaimed Barney, as he left the room, 'not exempt a man because he wouldn't shtand by an' see the 'ole 'oman murdered!'