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"Es, sar," said the defendant, and both took their positions immediately before the bench.

"Well, Johnson," said the Recorder, "let us hear what you have got to say."

"Why he aint got nuffin to say 'ginst me," said Brown, "'cause-"

"Silence," said the Recorder, "let me hear the plaintiff." "Yes, Massa 'Corder," said Sam, "if you hears me I tells de whole truth, and nuffin 'cordin to the truth, sartin."

"Go on, then," said the Recorder.

"Wal, dis is it," said the sage Sam; "you sees I keeps a boot polishin 'stablisment in Cussomhouse street. I'se patronized by de fus families and use 'clusively my own patent rain-resistin' dust dispellin' blackin. It's a great inwention, I tells you. I sent a pot ob it to Queen Wictoria, but as I dated my letter from. Cussomhouse street, she mistook it for sasipreller and pills, and took it 'ternally; but as there wasn't nothin' pernicious in it it didn't do her witals no harm; 'stead ob dat it has given de prince of Whales quite de polish, 'sides-"

"Stop," said the Recorder, "I cannot sit here to hear you expatiate on the virtues of your patent blackening; you charge this man with committing a breach of the peace-come to that

at once."

"I'll 'splain all dat like a knife, massa," said Sam. "Den to come to de pint, I 'ploys dis nigger and 'gages to teach him de boot polishin bizness on de Johnsonian scienterific princerples. Wal, affer givin him a trial I finds he haint got de genus to rise to de top ob de purfeshun, and dat he can't shine, no how, so I 'vises him to gib it up and try some oder bizness wot don't require so much nat'ral talent-so much ob de Promethean spark, as poets call it as ours does. So when I tells him dis he gibs me sarse, and threatens to 'flict personal chastisement on me if I don't pay him $5 a week." "Yes, and you promised to," said Brown.

"I know I did," said Sam, "but it was perwiden you showed de dewelopment ob genus."

"Well, can't you afford to pay him four dollars a week?" said the Recorder.

"I cannot Masser 'Corder" said Sam, emphatically. "You sees there's a wast reverlution in our purfeshun lately: fuss de prunellas gabe us a lick back, and den de French patent leder used us up all'gether. Now I goes in for puttin a tariff on

both dese articles, dat'll 'xclude dem from all competition wid de trade; and-" "O stop this," said the Recorder, his patience worn out by the garrulous Sam Jonsing, "an exposition of your views of the tariff law is not pertinent to this complaint. I shall bind Brown over to keep the peace, and he may sue you civilly for the wages which he claims to be due."

PLEASANT NEIGHBOURS.

THERE was nothing before the Criminal Court yesterday but an assault and battery case. It was one of the usual and every day class in which "agreeable neighbours" turn out to be very disagreeable acquaintances. It was Jones vs. Smith and Smith vs. Jones. The domicil of Smith was only divided from that of Jones by a thin partition, which brought the street door of Jones in close contiguity with that of Smith. Smith's children used to sit on Jones' door step when mid-day sun was shining, and make castles without interruption of bits of broken earthenware; and Jones' favourite terrier dog and tabby cat had the run of Smith's kitchen without ever been struck with the tongs or having an old slipper thrown after them. Mrs. S. and Mrs.

J. used to go together in the morning to St. Mary's Market; they would discuss the merits of their several neighbours as they went along-speak of the imprudence of Miss Sowell in going to the play with Green the grocer, and how the widow Wilkins left herself open to the invidious remarks of the illnatured by receiving the visits of young Darkley, who did nothing in particular for a living. If Mrs. Jones had buckwheat cakes for breakfast, she always sent in one to Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Smith was never known to have an oyster stew of an evening that she did not divide it with Mrs. Jones. The reciprocity of good feeling that existed between Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith was as cordial and familiar as that which was mutually entertained by their respective helpmates. Jones, when "na' fou' but unco happy," frequently shook Smith's hand and told him he was a d-n good fellow-and Smith had so high an opinion of Jones, as a man and a gentleman, that he proposed him as a member of the Happy Husband Society, to which honourable fraternity he was unanimously elected But, as beatitude such as the Joneses and the Smiths and the Smiths and the Joneses enjoyed, is vouchsafed to no one in perpetu

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ity in this world of sin and Swartwouting-of rascality and repudiation-it was abruptly and too prematurely sundered by the force of circumstances from them.

On Thursday evening the coloured girl was seen by Mrs. Smith taking a bowl of something into Mrs. Jones'—it might have been the material for an oyster stew, or it might notbut a certain savoury smell that was shortly afterwards inhaled by Mrs. S., as she stood at her door, removed all her doubts relative to the contents of the bowl. But the usual act of hospitable and neighbourly courtesy was not extended to her. The spirit of revenge at once seized her soul. She determined never from that moment, to send Mrs. Jones a hot buckwheat cake never walk to market in company with her never to let her terrier dog or tabby cat cross her threshold. She, like Othello, was firm and decided in her resolve-she was not

going

"To follow still the changes of the moon

With fresh suspicions. No: to be once in doubt

Was once to be resolved,"

She went to bed and arose the next morning full of wrath and fury against Mrs. Jones, Mr. Jones and all over which they claimed ownership. The tabby cat was soon made to squall from the effect of a blow of the tongs, and if she had not had the life of a cat she would have lost it on the occasion; and shortly after the broom handle sent Jones' dog howling home to his mistress. Mrs. Jones retaliated by raising a blush in little Tommy Smith's cheek with a slap of her open hand, and thus the war was vigorously commenced on both sides. Each now called into requisition her wordy weapon-the tonguewhich women in general can wield to such advantage. Mrs. S. and Mrs. J. was-what we shall not tell our readersand Mrs. J., in retaliation, was equally eloquent.-Jones now went to the door and told Mrs. J. to go in, and told Mrs. S. something that excited the pugnacity of Mr. Smith, who jumped out on the banquette and put himself in a pugilistic attitude before Jones, who at once pitched into him like "a thousand

of brick."

The woman ranged themselves on either side, and a quadruple matrimonial fight at once commenced, and was only concluded by the interposition of the police officers.

The judge, having heard the complaints and counter complaints of the parties; having seen the black eye of Jones and the bloody nose of Smith, and having listened to the volubility

with which the "ladies" urged their respective cause, in the double capacity of complainant and defendant, he ordered that all the parties be bound, in good and sufficient security, to keep the peace-the Smiths to the Joneses, and the Joneses to the Smiths.

COOKERY AND CALUMNY.

RESTAUT versus JONES.

WHEN a few ordinary cases were disposed of yesterday, the Recorder called "Jacques Restaut?"

"Oui, Monsieur le President," replied the owner of a voice in the crowd outside the bar, which was as shrill and as sharp as the sound of a tin trumpet, and about as musical as a jewsharp with a broken tongue.

"John Jones?" said the Recorder, and presently John Jones answered "'ere, your honour!" Both plaintiff and defendant made their way up to the bench.

The former, Mr. Restaut, is the proprietor of a cookshop down town; he wore a brown paper cap, a white roundabout and apron to match; his eyes were small, brown and restless, his face was of a sear and yellow leafish colour, his cheeks were puckered up like a half-closed fan, and he kept continually stirring his head and shoulders as if he were subject to some nervous affection.

John Jones, the defendant, is as unlike him in personal appearance as a large pumpkin is unlike a Havana banana. He is a cockney of the purest water; his round, ruddy face told of roast beef, plum-pudding, brown stout, and Welch-rabbits; a glance at it would shame a Grahamite or teetotaller out of his abstinence principles. He was short, plump and dumpy, about as broad across as he was tall.

"Now, Mr. Restaut," said the Judge, "what is your complaint?"

"My complain! Monsieur le President," said Restaut, with surprise, his shoulders moving like the piston rods of a steam engine, and his head in motion like the image of a mandarin in a grocer's window-" My complain! by gar I got no complain; my head be well, my stomach be well, I be well all over. It be Monsieur Anglais, John Jones here, have the one

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eat-too-much gran' complain. O, mon Dieu ! he eat, eat, eat, and call for one dish and t'other dish-by gar, I fear he eat myself up at last."

"What! do you think he'd turn cannibal and eat a Frenchman ?" asked the Recorder.

"Me tinks, Monsieur le President, dat he'd eat de vera diable!" said Restaut emphatically, slapping his open hand on the lid of his snuff box.

"Yes," said John Jones, quite composedly, and not at all affected by the series of charges which the Frenchman had made against him—“ yes, but I'm blowed, Mr. Monseer, if I'd eat your burned beef steaks nor your frog fricasee, no how." "Silence!" said the Recorder, "I want to come at the specific charge. Now, Mr. Restaut, you say this man disturbed the peace of your house, and would not pay for his breakfast -state how he did so."

"Oui, Monsieur le President," said Restaut, at the same time throwing out his hands, raising his shoulders and sinking his head, indicative of his willingness to proceed, and thus he did:

"Vell, you see, this Monsieur John Jones come to my house, and he call for beefsteak vera rare-vera rare. I give it to him dressed English style, no à la mode français-by gar he eat it and say it not worth nottin, it be one-what you call fire not burning?-one cindere, and he call for anoder more vera rare; by gar, he eat dat and say it be one cindere too, and he call for anoder one, two, three more rarer; and I said-sare, I had de honour to be grand cook to the Emperor le grand's cook, and by gar you take care; you shall no teach me my business, de grand art cuisine. If you wants one raw steak you go to market, buy it from the butcher and eat it dere. I no sell de raw beefsteak.'

"Well, did he pay you for what he did take?" asked the Recorder.

"No, he no pay nottin; he call for one dish, and for two, four dish, but he no pay one picayune,” replied Restaut.

"Well, Mr. Jones," said the Recorder, "what have you to say to this charge? you appear to have acted very strangely." "Vy, bless your vorship's eyes," said the defendant-" that 'ere story is all gammon. I'm blowed if it aint a precious yarn. Vy, your vorship, I couldn't eat none on his beefsteaks. I'm blowed if they wasn't as dry and as tough as a piece of sole leather. I say, your vorship, I doesn't like to make no