“No matther,” said Billy, “they died at all events, and so will we all, plaise God.”

“Gome,” said one of them, “there is Jack Brereton and his cane—­let us come to business.  What do you say, Jack, as to the prisoner?”

Jack at the time had the aforesaid cane between his legs, over which he was bent like a bow, with the head of it in his mouth.

“Are you all agreed?” asked Jack.

“All for a verdict of guilty, with the exception of this fellow and his shoes.”

Jack Brereton was a handsome old fellow, with a red face and a pair of watery eyes; he was a little lame, and crippled as he walked, in consequence of a hip complaint, which he got by a fall from a jaunting-car; but he was now steady enough, except the grog.

“Jack, what do you say?” asked the foreman; “it’s time to do something.”

“Why,” replied Jack, “the scoundrel engaged me to put down a pump for him, and I did it in such a manner as was a credit to his establishment.  To be sure, he wanted the water to come whenever it was asked; but I told him that that wasn’t my system; that I didn’t want to make a good thing too cheap; but that the water would come in genteel time—­that is to say, whenever they didn’t want it; and faith the water bore me out.”  And here Jack laughed heartily.  “But no matter,” proceeded Jack, “he’s only a bujeen; sure it was his mother nursed me.  Where’s that fellow that’s going to eat his shoes?  Here, Ned Wilson, you flaming Protestant, I have neither been a grand juror nor a petty juror of the county of Sligo for nothing.  Where are you?  Take my cane, place it between your knees as you saw me do, put your mouth down to the head of it, suck up with all your strength, and you’ll find that God will give you sense afterwards.”

Wilson, who had taken such a fancy for eating his shoes, in order to show his loyalty, was what is called a hard-goer, and besides a great friend of Jack’s.  At all events, he followed his advice—­put the head of the huge cane into his mouth, and drew up accordingly.  The cane, in fact, was hollow all through, and contained about three half-pints of strong whiskey.  There was some wrangling with the man for a little time after this; but at length he approached Jack, and handing him the empty cane, said: 

“What’s your opinion, Jack?”

“Why, we must hang him,” replied Jack.  “He defrauded me in the pump; and I ask you did you ever put your nose to a better pump than that?"*

* We have been taken to task about this description of the jury-room; but we believe, and have good reason to believe, that every circumstance mentioned in it is a fact Do our readers remember the history of Orr’s trial, where three- fourths of the jurors who convicted him were drunk—­a fact to which they themselves confirmed upon oath afterwards?

“Give me your hand, Jack, we’re agreed—­he swings!”

At this moment an officer came to ask the same question, when, in reply, the twelve jurymen came out, and, amidst the most profound silence, the foreman handed down the issue paper to the Clerk of the Crown.