black frock-Stackwell sported a fashionably made snuffcoloured dress coat.

"Well, Mr. Stackwell," said the Recorder, "you complain that the defendant has assaulted you-state how."

"May it please the court," said Stackwell, pressing his hair smoothly round his head with his left hand, and drawing a white "wipe" from his coat with his right, "May it please the court, the annoyance which I receive from this individual-[pointing to Fursey]-personally and professionally, is too much for any gentleman to put up with in silence. I have therefore brought him before your honour, that measures may be taken to prevent a recurrence of such treatment."

"Gammon!" said Fursey, casting a disdainful glance at Stackwell, and a look of reliance at the Recorder, as much as "wait till you hear my story."

to say,

"But how or why does he annoy you?" said the Recorder. Stack well applied the white cambric to his forehead, and proceeded with as much affected dignity as a young barrister would in arguing his first brief.

"We are both tailors, or rather I am, and he professes to be one; but he is altogether ignorant of the science and fashionable mysteries of our art

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"More gammon !" said Fursey.

"Silence!" said a police man.

"Well, I aint agoin' to let my karacter be cabbaged away right before my face by that ere locomotive scissors, no how you can fix it," said Fursey.

Stack well proceeded :-"We unfortunately live in the same street are near neighbours; I cut, exclusively, on geometrical principles

"Yes," said Fursey, interrupting him, "and, Needle-nose, you cut and run away with the rent from the last house you were in, in Royal street. You call that cutting on geometry principles-do you?"

The Recorder told Fursey he should confine him for contempt of court, unless he kept silent. He bade the complainant proceed.

"To be brief, your honour, said Stack well-to press off the suit, if I may use the expression-he sees the patronage with which I am honoured, and he envies me for it; he knows the style of work I make up-work unequalled in point of style and elegance of finish, in London or Paris itself; and knowing he cannot approach it, he feels jealous-professionally jeal

THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.

205

ous-he takes every method of annoying me.--No later than this morning I found this disgraceful libel pasted upon my door, and I have the best authority for saying it was done by this individual." Here he exhibited a pen and ink caricature of himself represented with a head of cabbage under each arm, underneath which was written,

"STACKWELL,

Green Grocer, and Dealer in CABBAGE."

He closed his complaint by saying he merely wanted Fursey bound over to keep the peace, and prevented from in any way annoying him.

"I never says nothing to him, your honour," said Fursey. "He aint no regular tailor at all, he can cut up airs much better than he can cut up a piece of cloth; he's an innovater on the old chalk system, and knows precious little about the new one. My thimble, and it hain't got no bottom, would hold all the sense he's got; they calls him the dandy tailor, and the cracked tailor-but I b'lieve he's not only cracked, but broke right into smash, he aint got but two negro journey

The Recorder said he had heard enough to understand the merits of the case. He told Fursey he should bind him not to offer personal violence to Stackwell, and advised them both to act in a spirit of mutual forbearance towards each other.

THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.

"THERE he is!"

"Where?"

"Why, there; that feller with the shocking bad hat, next to him what's got the long beard and a nose so red that its reflection would blow up a powder magazine!"

“What, he there what's got the plug of tobacco in his cheek-that raises it out and makes it look like an Indian mound on a prairie ?"

"Yes."

"That ain't he, be it ?"

"Yes, but it is; haint the watchman taken down his name,

and haint he acknowledged it himself."

"He haint got no sword though."

"No, but he had a thunderin' long knife."

S

This dialogue caught our ear as we entered the police office yesterday; it was carried on between two persons who appeared to be police officers, and who seemed to think that great honours awaited the watch department for the arrest of the incognito prisoner. Several other persons in court were pointing to him too; we could hear some of them speak of $5000 reward." Indeed he seemed to be the "observed of all observers," and from the attention which he attracted we at once concluded that there was some more serious charge against him than "found drunk.” Circumstances soon enlightened us.

"Thomas W. Dorr ?" said the Recorder.

"Thomas W. Dorr!" involuntarily exclaimed we, adding the drop of our surprise to the sea of astonishment that already filled the court.

"Thomas W. Dorr ?" said the Recorder a second time, and as he did the man who seemed such a practical advocate for the home consumption of tobacco, stood up in the dock.Expectorating a large quantity of the concentrated extract of the article on the floor, he replied in an indolent, loaferish tone, "that aint my name, your honour."

"What," said the Recorder, "are you not Thomas Dorr ?" "Yes, I is."

"Thomas W. Dorr ?"

"No, your honour; the watchman said I was blue, but I doesn't think I was so far gone. I could distinguish him werry well from a gentleman."

"Yes, your honour," said the watchman, "and he said as how he was the sure-enough 'Governor Dorr.'"

"Why, Charley," said the prisoner, "you're coming_the large licks now, sure. When you asked me if I wasn't Gov. Dorr I could scarcely keep from larfin right out, and I said I was, cause they used to call me Governor when I owned a broad-horn. But I ask the Squire himself if I look like a real live Governor?-besides, I hadn't no sword like Governor Dorr, nor I didn't run away."

These, the Recorder now began to think, were pretty strong proofs that the prisoner was not the great proclaimed, as the watchman had erroneously concluded that in fact he was a poor loafer who bore the name of Tom Dorr without any W. to it, and that the watchman drew his conclusions from premises not based on facts.

The prisoner was dismissed; the watchman was dissatisfied

at the exposé of his blunders, and nothing was left him of the $5000 reward but its visions. The audience now began to laugh at the watchman and the Dorr denouement. Several of them said they knew very well the prisoner was not the Rhode Island hero-nor no more like him than a mud turtle is like the white horse of the prairies!

RIVAL SUITORS.

"Beware of jealousy."

BRIDGET MORAN is a nice young 'ooman, as Mr. Weller, junior, would say. She cooks a nice dinner daily, wears a nice gown and goes to church on Sunday; she lives in the basement story of a nice house in Canal street, is admired by more than one nice young man, and is occasionally visited by a few friends, who form a nice but small tea party. Martin Donahoe is an advocate of internal improvement, and unlike many advocates of many other systems, Martin practices what he preaches; he is a pavier, and with a philanthropy truly commendable, is ever improving the public ways, though often unmindful of the error of his own ways. Bridget has been seen more than once in conversation with Martin, as he pounded his paving stones, and Martin more than once has dropt into the kitchen in Canal street of an evening to take tea with Bridget. Martin believes that

"The heart that once truly loves never forgets,
But truly loves on to the close."

And his affections therefore clung to Bridget like moss to a pine tree. Bridget, on the contrary, thinks a little flirtation allowable, and Martin, unfortunately for his own peace of mind, has found out that others than he shares the hospitality of the kitchen in Canal street, over which, or in which, Bridget rules supreme.

On Wednesday evening Martin had his face operated on by the barber; he donned his blue cloth coat, put himself in courting order, and without previously giving intimation of his design, he popped into the kitchen in Canal street; but, mirabile visu! there sat Bridget at the little square tea-table where Martin himself had so often sat with her before, and right opposite to her an outlandish looking fellow, who seemed

to have registered a vow against ever shaving of or being ever shaved-his whole face was covered with an overgrown moustache.

"Good evening to you, Mr. Donahoe," said Bridget, endeavouring to conceal the trepidation which Martin's presence threw her into.

Martin made no reply, but he gave a look at the man with the long blue beard that would have shaved it off if the process of lathering had been previously performed.

"Mr. Donahoe," said Bridget, introducing Martin to the man with the long beard.

The man with the long beard stood up, stretched his hand to Martin and said-" Ah, Senor Donwho, me vera glad to see you, vera."

66

Why, who the d-1 cares whether you are or not, you ourang outang you?" said Martin.

"O, behave daycent, Martin," said Bridget; "this is a Frinch gintleman that came on business up stairs-don't offind him."

"And if he came on business up stairs," says Martin, "what brought him down stairs, the baboon?" He a Frinch gintleman! he's just as much like one as a hedgehog is like an antylope. Why, I'd make a fortune wid the animal if I carried him round the counthry in a cage."

"O, you ought to respect me if you don't respect yourself," said Bridget.

"By gar, Senor Donwho, you be one vera offend fellow, and not no gentleman," said blue beard.

"Shut your potato chopping machine;" said Martin-❝ you haythen, you, or I'll give you a polthogue that'll knock you into the middle of next week; what brought a vizard faced fellow like you here, to parley-vous with a daycent girl; clear out now or I'll macadamize you while you'd be sayin' pavin' stones.'

Martin made a grab at the Frenchman, and in doing so, knocked the tea-table and its contents over. The broken china rattled on the floor, the tea kettle poured out on the pants of the Frenchman as it fell, and he cried fire! fire! Bridget shouted Martin! Martin! and in a few minutes there was a posse of watchmen in the basement story of the nice house in Canal street.

Martin and the man with the long beard were instantly arrested and taken to the calaboose.

When the Recorder heard the whole story yesterday morn