Punch (86.1884)

88

PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[February 23, 1884.

VERY TRYING.

A Record of a few Trials of Patience.

No. YII.—Unavailable Defences.

IE Defendant,
Anne Ibbins, was
charged with be-
ing drunk and
incapable in St.
Martin’s Lane.

The Constable
deposed that he
found the Defen-
dant on her back
in the gutter at
three o’clock in
the morning.

The Defendant
indignantly de-
nied the charge,
and called Jane
Hawkers to dis-
prove it.

The Witness,
Jane Hawkers,
addressing the
learned Magis-
trate, said“ I
can prove, Sir,
this Lady (the
Defendant) was
quite sober.—
Mrs. Ibbins and me were walking along together at three in the
morning when she said to me, ‘ Mrs. Hawkers, what a lark it would
be if I was to lie down on my back in the gutter ! ’ I said, ‘ Mrs.
Ibbins, don’t do it. Some spiteful Policeman might come by, and
say you had had a drop.’ This Lady (Defendant) replied, ‘ I don’t
think any Policeman would be so dishonest. I shall do it just for
the fun of the thing.’ Well, Sir, no sooner had she done it, than (as
I predicted) up came this Constable, and took her in charge.”

The Magistrate. Very well. I shall fine her five shillings for
obstructing the gutter.

John Smith, no occupation, was charged with stealing a box of
cigars from the counter of E Gip Ttjrke, tobacconist, of Sunderland
Street, Strand.

Mr. Turhe deposed: On Wednesday I was standing in my shop,
and the Prisoner walked in, and said, “Have you seen my new
conjuring trick ? ” I said, “ No, and I don’t want to.” The Prisoner,
in an impertinent manner, said, “ Oh ! that’s a pity. However, I ’ll
show you the trick, and won’t charge you anything for it.” He then
deliberately took one of my boxes of cigars off the counter, and ran
out of the shop with it. I ran after him, and, overtaking a Police
Constable, I told him hurriedly what was the matter, and he joined
the chase. We overtook the Prisoner at the corner of Bedford Street,
and found the cigar-box under his coat.

The Magistrate {to Prisoner). Do you wish to cross-examine this
Witness ?

The Prisoner. Yes, your Worship. {To Witness.) Will you
swear I come into your shop ?

Witness. Most certainly.

The Prisoner. It’s no good, your Worship, asking him questions.
If he says that, he ’ll say anything.

The Police Constable was then called, and corroborated the last
Witness, adding that he took the box of cigars from under the
Prisoner’s coat.

The Magistrate {to Prisoner). Do you wish to cross-examine the
Constable ?

The Prisoner. Yes, please, your Worship. {To the Constable.)
Will you swear you found the box of cigars under my coat ?

The Constable. Most certainly I did.

The Prisoner. It ain’t any use, your Worship, asking this Con-
stable anything. He can’t speak the truth if he tries. I never heard
such a got-up case.

The Magistrate. Well, it seems to me that there was never proven
a clearer case.

The Prisoner. Wait till you ’ve heard my defence.

The Magistrate. Oh, of course. Now is your time to make it.
Don’t speak too fast, as the Clerk has to take it down.

The Prisoner. I’m as innocent as a new-born babe. I was taking
a walk up Fleet Street, like our old friend Johnson--

The Magistrate. You mustn’t introduce matter which is irrelevant
to the case.

The Prisoner. I know, your Worship, sufficient of the law to
know when a prisoner’s liberty is at stake, I can make my defence

as well as others, although I ’m a poor man, and cannot afford a
mouthpiece.

The Magistrate. My good man, I don’t want to cut short your
defence, but to impress upon you the necessity of not wasting the
valuable time of the Court.

The Prisoner. All right, your Worship. Well, in Fleet Street I
meet an old friend named Barber—we call him “Toy Cavern”
(that’s his nick-name), sometimes “ Needle,” because he gets so out
of temper.

The Magistrate. Well, surely that’s not relevant ?

The Prisoner. I suppose because I’m a poor man I mustn’t be
allowed to make my defence f

The Magistrate. Oh ! pray go on then.

The Prisoner. Well, we turn round, and walks towards Temple
Bar. We pulled up at the Griffin, and Barber said to me, “ What
do you think of this ? ” I said, “ I think it a regular do.” Barber
says, “Sight!” When we got to just by the Gaiety, I said to
Barber, “ Hulloh ! the Strand is up again ! They ’re always taking
the road up here.” Barber says, “They’ll be taking you up here
next,” aud I laughed. I treated it as a joke, never dreaming such a }
singular-

The Magistrate. Would you kindly come to the point. All that
you have stated appears to me to he done with the intention of giving
yourself time to invent some trivial defence to this charge, which
seems to me to be completely substantiated. I think it would be
better to remand you for a week, to see if there is anything known
about you.

The Prisoner {suddenly). Please, your Worship, don’t do that;
I’m just coming to it. Barber says to me, “ Look at that crowd
running along.” I looked, and saw a crowd running like mad, this i
Prosecutor being at the head of if. I thought they was running j
after him. So I joined the running. I overtook the Prosecutor,
and says, “What’s the matter?” The Prosecutor says, “I’ve i
dropped a box of cigars at the top of the street.” I says, “All
right! Don’t you trouble, I can run faster than you,” aud I ran j
ahead of him, and there I saw the cigar-box on the iiavement, and I
picked it up, and returned it to the Prosecutor, aud says, “ Here you
are, Sir ! ” aud blow me if he didn’t give me into custody, aud says !
I stole them. Think of that! I’m as innocent as a new-born babe.

The Magistrate. As you plead innocence, I cannot, of course, deal j
with the case. You are committed for trial.

The Prisoner here burst into tears, and exclaimed, “ Oh, don’t do
that, Sir. 1 don’t want to make a fuss about it. I’d rather plead
Guilty, and have the thing adone with. Juries are so odd now, I
might get seven year. I plead Guilty.

The Magistrate. Then I ’ll impose upon you the maximum penalty
I can give—six months.

The Prisoner thanked his Worship, and was removed.

AFTER THE SIMOOM.

Safe through ! But as the ship with canvas rent
And shattered spars survives the lashing storm '
Camel and leader onward fare forespent.

To Orient fancy a malignant form
Looms vast and vague amidst the baffled blast
That scourges the wild sand wastes. This at least
Is baffled. Will it be the worst or last ?

Who knows ? But he who threads the arid East
Needs forecast clear and footing sure ; for doom
Comes often on the wings of the Simoom.

Pleasantry of Peasantry.

“ Great International Demonstration . ” “ Meeting of Peasantry

at the Albert Hall!” “Arrest of Distinguished Noblemen!”
“ Millionnaires Mulcted ! ” “ The Aristocracy Fined ! ” “ Threat-

ening Attitude of the Peasantry! ” Why did not the shouters of
Special Editions and the compilers of sensation bills of evening news-
papers use some of these titles ? They would have sold the papers,
and they would in a degree have described the efforts of the gaily-
dressed Ladies and Gentlemen in aid of the funds of the “ West-End
Hospital for Diseases of the Nervous System, Paralysis, and Epi-
lepsy,” at the Albert Hall, on February 14th, 15th, and 16th,

The Bed Veil.

Mr. Punch considers most veils to be an affectation, but the new
Red Veil, which has recently been introduced, he holds to^ be an
abomination. It makes girls look blear-eyed and red-nosed. It gives
them the appearance of just recovering from the measles. Mr. Punch
trusts that he will not have to call the attention of _ his fair cousins,
and the fair ones who are not his cousins, to this matter again;
but that from henceforth the Red Veil will disappear altogether.