“The law requires that the thransactions of this coort shall take place in English,” the Chairman responded, “and we have also the public to consider.”

As it was pretty certain that we were the only persons in the court who did not understand Irish, it was borne in upon us that we were the public, and we appreciated the consideration.

“We may assume, then, that the children that set on the dog wor’ of both sexes,” proceeded Mr. Heraty.  “Well, now, as to the dog—­ William, ask Darcy what sort of dog was it.”

The monotonous and quiet Irish sentences followed one another again.

“That’ll do.  Now, William—­”

“He says, yer worship, that he was a big lump of a yalla dog, an’ very cross, by reason of he r’arin’ a pup.”

“And ’twas to make mutton-broth for the pup she dhrove Darcy’s sheep in the lake, I suppose?”

A contemptuous smile passed over Darcy’s face as the Chairman’s sally was duly translated to him, and he made a rapid reply.

“He says there isn’t one of the neighbours but got great annoyance by the same dog, yer worship, and that when the dog’d be out by night hunting, there wouldn’t be a yard o’ wather in the lakes but he’d have it barked over.”

“It appears,” observed Dr. Lyden serenely, “that the dog, like the gorsoons, was of both sexes.”

“Well, well, no matther now; we’ll hear what the defendant has to say.  Swear Sweeny!” said Mr. Heraty, smoothing his long grey beard, with suddenly remembered judicial severity and looking menacingly over his spectacles at Sweeny.  “Here, now! you don’t want an interpreter!  You that has a sisther married to a stationmaster and a brother in the Connaught Rangers!”

“I have as good English as anny man in this coort,” said Sweeny morosely.

“Well, show it off man!  What defence have ye?”

“I say that the sheep wasn’t Darcy’s at all,” said Sweeny firmly, standing as straight as a ramrod, with his hands behind his back, a picture of surly, wronged integrity.  “And there’s no man livin’ can prove she was.  Ask him now what way did he know her?”

The question evidently touched Darcy on a tender point.  He squared his big shoulders in his white flannel jacket, and turning his face for the first time towards the magistrates delivered a flood of Irish, in which we heard a word that sounded like ullan often repeated.

“He says, yer worships,” translated William, “why wouldn’t he know her!  Hadn’t she the ullan on her!  He says a poor man like him would know one of the few sheep he has as well as yer worship’d know one o’ yer own gowns if it had sthrayed from ye.”

It is probable that we looked some of the stupefaction that we felt at this remarkable reference to Mr. Heraty’s wardrobe.

“For the benefit of the general public,” said Dr. Lyden, in his languid, subtle brogue, with a side-glance at that body, “it may be no harm to mention that the plaintiff is alluding to the Chairman’s yearling calves and not to his costume.”