insinivations, but don't old 'osses die about this time in this ere city?"

"Sacre Anglais !" muttered the Frenchman, taking a superlative pinch of snuff.

66 Silence,"
"said the constable.

"Go on, sir," said the Recorder.

“Vell, I haint got but this ere to say," continued Jones, "that I couldn't eat none of his steaks-he don't know how to give a steak the first turn, your vorship."

"O, mon Dieu !" ejaculated the Frenchman. "Be silent," said the Recorder authoritively.

"It aint no use, your honour," said Jones, "for as I tells my wife Sally, a 'ooman, a parrot and a Frenchman will keep talking; there aint been nothing inwented yet to prevent it; and I doubts myself if there ever will. But as I was saying, your vorship, I only tried his beefsteaks-I couldn't eat them. Vell, then, he lays his gombo before me, and be course I couldn't go that neither. Cause as how, your honour sees I took a nat❜ral dislike to cat's meat in every shape, ven I vas a little 'un. Father gave me a piece of weal pie one day at Bart'lemy fair, and I'm blowed if the materials warnt pure catflesh."

"I care nothing about your antipathies or predilections," said the Recorder-"This man charges you two dollars for what he dressed for you, whether you eat it or not I don't know, nor do I care. But unless you pay him, I shall fine you $5 for disturbing the peace of his house, and he can sue you afterwards for the two dollars."

A few moments reflection suggested to Mr. Jones the propriety of submitting to the compromise which the Recorder proposed. He paid the two dollars and d-d the optics [aside] of American judges and French cooks and cookery.

The Frenchman stretched out his hand to receive it as politely as if he was going to lead a lady to her place in a cotillion, gave Mr. Jones a "mercie, monsieur," in exchange for his two dollars, and holding his paper cap in his right hand, and bowing obsequiously to the judge, he said, "adieu Monsieur le President, adieu,” but no sooner had he left the office than he gave a look at respectable old Jones, as sour as some of his own pickles, and energetically exclaimed, "sacre le bas Anglais !"

BOB BATTLE is what is technically called a hard customer. He drinks hard; he eats hard, for he is often hard set to get any thing to eat; and he sleeps hard, for his bed is most frequently a hard flag in the market. He thinks that the man who invented lunches is a greater benefactor to mankind than Fulton or Arkwright, and that the credit system, advocated by politicians, is but a partial and restricted measure. To carry it out to its legitimate lengths, he argues that money should never be demanded for drinks; that toddies, like lost pocketbooks, should be delivered, and "no questions asked.”

Bob, in his peregrinations last night, met with that very ubiquitious character, the watchman, who is in so many places at the same time.

"Cuss me if I care," said Bob, as he tottled along—“ no, not the fust red cent. Parson Miller is right, and I knows it. Yes, I knows there'll be a general blow up, but I'm blowed if I care. Let every feller take care of himself, as the donkey said what danced among the chickens."

"Yes, and you had better take care of yourself," said the watchman, "or else you goes to the calaboose, sure."

"Oh, you're a watchman-are you?" said Bob.

66

"I is,"

," said Charley," though I doesn't think there's any law what compels an officer of the government to answer questions out of court.

"O, dang the government!" said Bob; " it aint no use."

"Hallo, there!" said Charley; "mind what you say. Doesn't you know its grand larceny-some calls it fel-o-de-see-to speak against the government ?"

"Well, I do say," replied Bob, "that the government aint no account: it wont reciprocate favours. I is willin' to take care of the government, but the government aint willin' to take care of me. It wont pass no law for my protection, and it protects Lowell domestics;-that aint free trade, no how you can fix it."

66

"O, you don't know nothing about free trade," said the watchman; "besides, it aint a constitutional question, because the council haint passed no ordinance on the subject. I goes

M

let us arrange

i

Lend me a dime and

in for duty, and for every one doing his duty; therefore, i thinks it's my duty to take you to the calaboose." "Hold on, Charley; hold on!" said Bob. "Let us settle this matter in a genteel way; by treat-y, as they does in Washin❜ton. I'll stand the liquors. Come, now, watchey, don't back out. "No," said the watchman, "but you shall back in ;" and, as by this time they had got to the Baronne street prison, in he backed Mr. Battle to the watchhouse for the night.

CABMEN'S CONTENTIONS.

JOHN ELLIS and Bill Thorp were two of the most conspicuous characters who appeared before Recorder Baldwin yesterday. They were of the hobble-de-hoy age-neither men nor boys. Both of them chewed tobacco freely, wore old pilot cloth great coats, had shocking bad hats, and carried a long whip across the left arm, as a soldier does his musket at the "port arms." They were both knights of the whip, and instead of being lashed together in the harness of friendship, they seemed actuated altogether by a spirit of envious rivalry, and were a living illustration of the old adage-two of a trade," &c. "You'll see," said Ellis.

"Yes, and you'll see," replied Thorp. "I isn't to be driven from my persition by you, no how you can fix it.”

"Well, I guess there's law for the purtection of the reg'lar cabmen, as well as gemmen what follors other business," said Ellis.

"We'll see," said Thorp.

"Yes, we'll see," replied Ellis.

This episode was carried on in the hall of the court, after which both parties went in that the Recorder might pronounce his dictum on the question at issue between them.

"Are Bill Thorp and John Ellis ready to go into their case?" asked the Recorder.

"I is ready," said Thorp.

"I is always ready," said Ellis; "there's no back out in me." "Then let us hear what you have got to say," said the Recorder.

"Well, I wants to bind this here feller over to keep the peace," replied Ellis.

CABMEN'S CONTENTIONS.

"What has he done?" asked the Recorder.

135

"Well I'll tell you God's truth about it," said Ellis; "you see I's gone lately into the cab line. I drives one of those newly imported conwenient wehicles with two wheels, what aint like nothing else; but they're reg'lar flare-up concerns, I tell you."

"I dare say," said the Recorder; but what has all this to do with the assault?"

"Why, just this here,” replied Ellis," that when I drives up to the stand he gets all the old cabmen to jaw me, and call me the milk-and-water cabman.”

"What does he mean by that?" asked the Recorder.

"Why, your honour sees, I was in the milk business afore I got in the cab line, and he has a spite against me 'cause I am advancing in my purfession."

"But he has not assaulted you, has he?" asked the Recorder. "Well, he has assaulted my 'oss," replied Ellis," and that's personal, aint it?"

"Not exactly," said the Recorder; but we'll hear what Thorp has to say "

"If your honour listens," said Thorp, "I'll tell it while I'd be cracking my whip, without any gammon whatsumdever. You see I knows all the branches of our bisness, and a wery critical bisness it is if your horses aint got a proper mouth. I've driv' a one horse wagon, a coach and pair, and at one time driv' an omnibus and four for a whole day, and had but one break down; now I asks your honour if it's fair for a feller like this here, vot's never had a more scientific job than driving a milk cart, to intrude himself on the bisness and take employment from the reg'lar hands. Is it honour bright, your honour? Haint cabmen and coachmen got wested rights as vell as other folks? Ve has-ve knows our rights, and knowin', dares maintain 'em,' as the feller said at the political meetin' t'other night-and I'm blowed if ve don't.”

"O, I see," said the Recorder, "all this has originated from a spirit of rivalry in business."

"No," said Ellis, "but this 'ere feller goes in for monopolies and chartered privileges; he's against fair competition in business.

"I have heard enough now," replied the Recorder, "to know what you and he would be driving at. Let both of you go and drive your cabs, and if one of you assault the other I shall give the injured party redress."

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