KISSING A NEW YEAR'S CUSTOM. 31 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—___99 "A gentleman in difficulties," said the philosopher. "No you don't," said the watchman, "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 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 turnedand 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." 6 "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. Mahony? 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. 33 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 an 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 byway after gun fire-a Charley, with no more music in his soul than there is animation in a pumpkin, comes up and hustles him off to the watchhouse before he can sound his A. From the statement made by the watchman it appeared that the prisoner, Jack Gamut, was arrested in Tchoupitoulas street on Wednesday night, echoing the sounds of silvery music. He was essaying, "With sweetest touches to pierce his mistress' ear And draw her home with music." Thus went his song; his tune on his fiddle was somewhat erratic, not following exactly in the same musical track : JACK'S SONG-Air, "The Minstrel Boy." "O! spirit of music," the fiddler sung, The watchman, who -keeded not the song of the charmer," came up and without parley, politeness, or explanation, took the wandering minstrel off to the calaboose. "Your's is rather a hard case," said the Recorder, addressing Jack Gamut. "O, your honour," said Jack, "I don't care three thrawneens about the case; I'm mighty anxious about the fiddle though." "You are charged with disturbing the peace," said the Recorder. "Be gor, your honour," said Jack, "that's unpossible; because the piece, music, poethry and all was me own composition." "The watchman says you were annoying the whole neighbourhood," said the Recorder. "O, the dirty haythen," said Jack, "sure he was fast asleep when I comminced playin', and would not wake 'till mornin' if it was not for me music; and pon me sowl, between you and me, I think there's more merit due to me in wakin' him up than there was to Orpheus, who made stones and trees dance quadrilles, they say." A MRS. CAUDle in court. 35 "Well, I'll discharge you this time," said the Recorder, "but mind that you're never caught out serenading so late again." "O, may the bow string of your honour's life never be broke," said Jack, "'till its last jig is finished"—and saying this he left the court, nothing the worse for his night's serenade. A MRS. CAUDLE IN COURT. MRS. TITMARSH, (a lady of the Caudle school,) and her husband, made something of a stir in the Recorder's court yesterday. The complaint made by the watchman was, that they were disturbing the peace when he arrested them: but in what manner, Mrs. Titmarsh would not permit him to tell she would not allow Mr. Titmarsh to explain, nor would she be silenced by the Recorder. She evidently concluded there was talking to be done; and having no mean opinion of her own powers of loquacity, was determined to take it all to herselfindeed, it seemed to be with her a “labour of love.” Recorder. Watchman, state the circumstances of these people's arrest." Mrs. Titmarsh.-"Will your honour hear me? I'm a decent married woman, and have got three small children-two of them twins, that will be two years of age next 4th of July, provided they get over the measles; and, besides, Recorder. And besides-I don't see what your twins have to do with the arrest. Let the watch—" Mrs. Titmarsh "O, I don't want to have the ear of the court poisoned by a watchman, that never had no twins in his life-that never had no husband to trifle with his feelings, and that doesn't know nothing of how the tender sensibilities of a confiding woman are lacerated and laid bare by the conduct of an ungrateful husband. O, Tit, Tit!"—and here she looked a look both of mixed sorrow and of anger-O, Tit, Tit! I' knew it would come to this! and what would I care if it was not for my little boy, that's at the public schools, and the two little twins, that's at home with the negro.-What 66 Mr. Titmarsh, (in a peace-invoking voice.) Well, dear, it was your own fault. If you had held your tongue, the watchman would have never minded us." Mrs. Titmarsh." My fault!-if I held my tongue! O! |