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Read Ebook: Mornings at Bow Street A Selection of the Most Humorous and Entertaining Reports which Have Appeared in the 'Morning Herald' by Wight J John Cruikshank George Illustrator
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Ebook has 207 lines and 32942 words, and 5 pages
"Have you any witness?" asked the magistrate.
Mrs. Bunce and the gentle Julia hearing this, lifted up their eyes and hands in astonishment, and opened a fresh volley of evidence, which concluded with a declaration from Mrs. Bunce, that she never went to see her own mother that they did not lie in wait for and attack her.
"And pray how old may your mother be?"
At last it was ordered that the young ladies, Miss Eliza Pritchard and Miss Hannah Maria Bagwell, should find bail to keep the peace towards Mrs. Margaret Bunce; and not being prepared with any, they followed the turnkey to his stronghold, weeping as they went.
A SMALL TASTE OF JIMAKEY.
In reply to all this it was stated, by the buckish young bricklayer, and the parish clerk, and two other witnesses, that Tom Nagle was neither more nor less than a bit of a smuggler, and a great pest to all the country round about Cranford for many miles; that on the night in question he was very much the worse for the beer, and that the company at the Queen's Head did certainly joke him about his spirituous calling; that he was very angry in consequence; that he went out of the house in a passion; that the bricklayer followed him, and having given him a shilling for a taste of his rum, he took the bottle from him--telling him, "in a lark," that he would inform against him, for selling spirits without a license. It was further stated, that the bottle was carried back to the Queen's Head, and safely deposited with the landlord, to be re-delivered to Tom Nagle, when he should call for it; and as to the ten-shilling story, it was declared by everybody to be a great fib--a pure invention of Tom Nagle's, and intended by the said Tom as a set-off against the threat of information for selling contraband spirits.
The magistrate asked Tom Nagle--"Is it true that you were drunk at the time?"
"Could you walk steadily?" asked his worship.
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.
Mrs. H., and another lady or two, who, it seems, accompanied her in her tavern expedition, fully substantiated this statement in all its interesting particulars.
On the other hand, the watchman called four of his brethren, who all offered to swear that Mr. H. struck him repeatedly.
The magistrate was of opinion that the watchman had done his duty well, and called upon Mr. H. to find bail to answer for the assault at the Sessions, unless he could satisfy the watchman for his trouble.
Mr. H. said he had no money to bestow on any such purpose; and, feeling himself the aggrieved party, he had rather go before a jury; so he retired in the custody of the turnkey.
THE COOK AND THE TAILOR.
This was a matter of assault and battery, originating in roast lamb and cauliflower, carried on by means of a misfitting toilinet waistcoat, and ending in battle and bloodshed.
The magistrate, however, was of a different opinion, and ordered him to find bail for his appearance to answer it at the sessions.
The magistrate, having listened with great patience to the premises, asked the prisoner what he had to say for himself; and, as he only played with his hat-band in reply, he was remanded until the evening, in order that the pawnbroker might attend.
In the evening he was again placed at the bar; but there was no pawnbroker in attendance; and Mr. Wedderburn begged leave to withdraw the prosecution--he having been satisfied by the bounty of the prisoner's patron.
The magistrate then commented severely on the conduct of all the parties, and reluctantly consented to the prisoner's discharge.
A BOLD STROKE FOR A SUPPER.
They replied that they were actually invited to supper at that hotel, by their friend Mr. Kecksy, who was very well known to the landlord, and they fully expected he would have come in during the supper, or otherwise they would not have ordered the supper. They had, however, offered the landlord their address, and had assured him he should be paid in the morning.
"Then pay it now"--said the magistrate--"the morning is arrived!"
The defendants looked blank--and did not offer to pay.
"He is not out of town," said one of the supper-eaters, "for I saw him yesterday afternoon."
"The fact is, your worship, he is in the King's Bench prison," said Mr. Joy.
"That is false, Sir!--He is not," exclaimed the supper-eater.
"Where is he, then?" said his worship.
They were accordingly ordered to find bail, and not being prepared with any, they were consigned to the attentions of the turnkey, without any order for their breakfast.
CUPBOARD LOVE.
LOVE IN CHANCERY.
Should e'er go thither Such sweets to wither!"
It was just about dusk, in the evening, when Bishop, armed with full powers for the capture of the lady's person, proceeded in a hackney-coach to the Myrtle Grove above mentioned, and alighting at a short distance from the house in which he believed the lovers were concealed, he left his coach in waiting, and walked in silence towards the house. Not the slightest sound was heard from within, but he had no sooner lifted the knocker, than the door was opened by a young lady fully equipped for travelling--it was the fair fugitive, Drusilla herself! She was surrounded by trunks and band-boxes, and bundles; and, as it afterwards appeared, she was at that very moment waiting the return of her beloved Horatio, who was gone to call a coach to convey them to some other place of refuge.
"O dear, no, Sir!" exclaimed the lady. "I am Miss Jenkinsop, the daughter of the mistress of this house."
"But who can paint Horatio as he stood, Speechless and fix'd in all the death of woe!"
A length, after he had pored over "Coke upon Lyttleton," and "the Statutes at Large," for about an hour and a half, the Chancery Solicitor arrived and served him with a copy of the injunction; and, had it been a tavern bill of fare, he could not have taken it more comfortably. He opened it; turned it about in different directions; looked at it both on the outside and the inside, played leisurely with the red tape that bound it, and then--thrust it into his coat pocket.
The lady, in the course of the day, was delivered to her friends in town; and thus ended the loves of Horatio and Drusilla.
KITTY KAVANAGH.
"But what has all this to do with the stolen linen?" asked his worship; "what have you to say about the piece of linen?"
His worship shook his head, as much as to say he feared Kitty was adding falsehood to theft.
This was of course all nothing in the face of the fact so distinctly sworn to, and the prisoner was committed for trial.--So the interesting Kitty Kavanagh was sent to gaol, and perhaps lost her character for ever, for a bit of old calico, not worth sixpence.
The professor said Mr. Flament would sooner quit the country than pay any such sum.
"Will he?" said the magistrate, "but I will take care he does not; for unless something is agreed upon before he leaves this office, I will commit him to prison; and then we shall see how he will manage to leave the country."
The professor asked ten thousand pardons for offending his worship; and begged to observe that madame could earn seventeen shillings a-week for herself, by her own hands.
The professor said there was not the least danger that Mons. Flament would run away--
"Then why did you threaten that he would?" asked the magistrate.
"I did not mean, Sare, that he should leave the country--the England," replied the professor, "only this town, Sare--that he should go out--into--the country, is all what I mean."
The magistrate observed, that it was not the custom in this country to say one thing and mean another--
"Vera true--your worship," replied the smiling professor with a low bow--"but John Bull say many things he does not mean, for all that."
His worship smiled also, and did not take the trouble of refuting the slander; and the matter ended in the professor and another friend of Mons. Flament becoming sureties to the parish on his behalf.
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