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KISSING A NEW YEAR'S CUSTOM.

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Changing his tone from one of admiration to one of interrogation, he asked—

"Did you say brandy and water, my friend? Thank you; the night is somewhat chilly, that's a fact. I've no objection to take a little, though my habits generally speaking are temperate, very."

"Yes," said the watchman," you look as much like a temperance man as I do like a bishop. If I can't promise you brandy and water, you may rely on getting coffee without sugar (this is the workhouse rations)-come along," and here the watchman struck his club against the curb-stone. "A light breaks in on me," said the philosopher," you're a watchman—are you not ?”

"Well I is, hoss," said the Charley, "and you is

"A gentleman in difficulties," said the philosopher.

"No you don't," said the watchman, 66 you don't come the giraffe over me that a way, you is a great naturalist, and does like to see the elephant, I knows you, now that I gets a full look at you; you is Tom Trotter, the loafer, and no mistake." The watchman was not mistaken in his man, for Tom was fully recognised by the Recorder yesterday and sent to take coffee without sugar for thirty days.

KISSING A NEW YEAR'S CUSTOM.

MICK MAHONY, Mrs. Biddy Mahony and Nancy Donahoe were individually and collectively charged yesterday before the Recorder, by the watchman, with disturbing the peace.

Miss Donahoe was a good-looking, round, red-faced, blueeyed girl. Mrs. Mahony was a hard-featured, sharp-nosed lady, with a tongue which seemed to operate on the principles of perpetual motion; and Mr. Mahony was a humorous-looking character, with a leer in his eye and a laugh playing about the corners of his mouth, which were well calculated to excite the jealousy of Mrs. M. when so comely a colleen as Nancy Donahoe was in the case.

The watchman was proceeding to state the charge with loquacious verbosity, but Mrs. Mahony claimed of the court the right to relate the matter herself, alleging that she was the injured individual. As she would not be silent, the Recorder assented, and she went on, her lord and master, Mick, looking

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imploringly into her eyes in the meantime, and making an appeal to her pity in the following words :—

"Biddy, Biddy, jewel, be aisy, and if ye can't be aisy, be as aisy as you can."

Biddy heeded not the voice of the charmer, but proceeded. "Well, ye see on New Year's night, yer aner, I had a nice little tay party at me place; and of coorse, whin the kimmeens (tea equipage) was removed, we had a dhrop of punch in aner of the night, though sarrah a dhrop of it did I take meself, on account of the pledge."

"There's a good one!" said Mick, in sotto voce, turning to Nancy Donahoe.

"Mrs. Mahony," said the Recorder, "you are too discursive -too prolix. I only wish you to state the cause of the riot or disturbance."

"I'm comin' to the point, yer aner," returned Biddy.

"O, Biddy, acushla," said Mick, "ye know 'twas all a bit of a joke-a New Year's night frolic."

"A purty joke it was, ye desavin' villian !" exclaimed Biddy. "That's the father of me four childher-to be kissin' that brazen-faced hussey there the instant ye got me back turned— and you purdindin' to be so jealous of Tim Doolin all the time, that was me mother's cousin be his father's side, and—”

"Mrs. Mahony," said the Recorder, “I cannot sit here and listen to the genealogy of your family or the degree of consanguinity that exists between you and Tim Doolin. I again call on you to come to the cause of the disturbance for which you were all arrested."

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"Well, thin," resumed Mrs. Mahony, "whin we were all sated round the table, as happy as ye plase, chattin' and talkin' about ould times, Mick sis to Harry Whelan, sis he- Harry, avick, lit's have a song.' 'Always contint,' sis Harry. What'll ye have, Mrs. Malony? sis he to me. Plase yourself, Misther Whelan,' sis I, and ye plase me;' so with that he comminced Hurra for O'Connell, who'll git us Repale!' Well, he hadn't well begun it whin me bowld Mick sis-'I beg yer pardin, ginteels,'-jist that a-way, quite purlitely like—and up he gits and walks out, and out he stays, and sarrah a sign of him there was comin' in whin the song, which has twintyone varses in it, was incored. Well, yer aner, I begins to smill a rat, and I ups and goes to the dure, and there I hears Miss Donahoe, the forward minx,-though she looks now as if butther wouldn't milt in her mouth-singin' in great glee

THE WANDERING MINSTREL.

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'Rory O'More.' Well, I stales to the windy-she lives nixt dure and, sure enough, whin she cum to the chorus of It's eight times to-day that ye kissed me afore,' the vagabone does shute the action to the word, and gives her a smackin' thorumpogue! Well, 'twas too much for flesh and blud to stand, so of coorse I gev both of thim what they desarved-I gev thim sugar in their tay!"

"That's sufficient," said the Recorder.-"What have you to say, Mr. Mahony?"

Mick smiled amorously, drew his hand over his face, and looked archly between his extended fingers at Nancy Donahoe and Mrs. Mahony. He acknowledged the soft impeachment of kissing Nancy, but pleaded in extenuation the privilege of doing so on New Year's night; and further, that Biddy kissed Tim Doolin right forninst his face!

The Recorder viewed the affair in the same hilarious light that Mick Mahony did, and discharged the parties on paying jail fees.

THE WANDERING MINSTREL.

WHEN We entered the police office yesterday we cast our eye along the file of prisoners as is our wont, with a view of picking out a "character," just as Bonaparte would run his quick glance along the lines to pick out a man for important duty or promotion. To the right of the column we perceived a prisoner whom we at once knew was above and beyond the ordinary class of lock-up prisoners. He had the bearing of ant Olympic god, the brow of Orpheus and the bust of an Apollo Belvidere. We at once set him down as some body, and we were not much mistaken. He was, or rather is, a musiciana fiddler-a man of quavers and crotchets, who kills time by keeping time; who is at once the victor and victim of sharps and players, and is played on by flats. The time was when there was a halo of romance thrown round the troubadour or the wandering minstrel-when he could write a sonnet to his "mistress' eyebrows," and accompanied by his harp or lute sing it under her latticed window without the fear of intrusion or interruption.-But, alas! the days of romance, like the days of chivalry, are now passed, and if a "child of song" attempts to tune his Cremona now in the highway or by way after gun

"He haint got no complaint to make," said the fat woman with the frills.

"Silence," said one of the police officers.

"Let us hear your complaint," said the Recorder, addressing Mr. Timmons.

"Certainly sir," said Mr. T., and pushing the hair up off his forehead, applying a red pocket handkerchief to his proboscis, and giving a couple of short coughs, he commenced.

"You see, sir, this here woman and I is next door neighbours. I am a locofoco as strong as pisin, and she is a wiolent vhig."

"O, good gracious!" ejaculated the fat woman with the frills; "did you ever!"

"Silence," said the peace officer.

"How do you know she's a whig?" asked the Recorder. "'Cause, don't they say the vimen are all vigs?" asked Mr. Timmons; "besides I knows from what she has taught her birds."

"O Lor' ha' mercy on me," ejaculated the fat woman with the frills, "I aint nothin' but a poor, lone widder."

"What has she taught her birds?" asked the Recorder. "Why, you see," said Timmons, "she's got what she calls a havery, (an aviary) where she keeps all kinds of foreign and domestic hanimals in the bird line, and she has taught them all to abuse me and my principles."

"How so?" asked the Recorder. "I don't understand you." "Why, just this here way, your honour," said Timmons: "she has got a crooked-nosed, green parrot at her door, and ven ever he sees me he begins to laugh at me, and he sings— "Did you hear the news from Maine, Maine, Maine ?", "And more times he sings—

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"Then she's got some other kinds of foreign birds that says "Kinderhook cabbage, Kinderhook cabbage, sour crout, sour crout; Matty, go home; Matty, go home."

"I merely want's to have her bound over to keep the peace," said Mr. Timmons, "and not to be annoying me."

"Won't your honour hear me??? asked the fat woman with the frills.

"Yes," said the Recorder; "step forward."

"Well, you see, your honour, I haint got a bird in the wide

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world but a parrot, an English lark, and a Guinea hen; and they are all the company I has since my poor, dear old man died. This here man, Mr. Timmons, is a werry good man, but he sometimes gets tipsy, and when he does he says my birds do be singing Tippecanoe songs and talkin' politics: there aint one on 'em can speak a word, your honour, but the parrot, and she don't say nothin' but pretty Poll, pretty Poll.' I believes, your honour, it's all owin' to the influence of liquor, for when he's sober he don't say nothin'."

"Are you afraid this woman will do you any injury?” asked the Recorder of Mr. Timmons.

"I is not," said Mr. Timmons; "but I only requests that her birds won't be riggin' me 'bout my polities."

"O, well," said the Recorder," since the birds are not amenable to this court, I can't dwell longer on this case. It is discharged."

"O, Mr. Timmons, Mr. Timmons," said the fat woman with the frills, "aint you a pretty next door neighbour, to bring a poor, lone widder, that hain't got no one but herself and her birds, into court."

A DOUBLE SHAVE.

BILL BROWN vs. AUGUSTUS JONES.

THIS case excited considerable interest in the Recorder's court, Saturday. Brown is an English sailor. Augustus Jones belongs to the sable race, and fills the vocation of mariner's tonseur on the Levee.

"State your complaint," said the Recorder.

"To save this honourable court trouble," said a little sixand-eight-penny lawyer, "I have made a brief of my client, Mr. Brown's case, and shall read it, if the court will command silence."

flere he pulled from the pocket of his thread-bare coat about a quire of foolscap, closely written over, and commenced

"Whereas, this day——”

Recorder. "Stop-stop, sir! You don't mean to read all that!"

Attorney."Certainly, may it please your honour. My duty to my client, justice to my own professional reputation,

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