Mornings at Bow Street — Page 274-288

MR.

O'FLINN, AND HIS FRIEND'S MISTRESS.

Miss Susanna Smith, a very pretty young woman, attired in the newest fashion, was brought before the magistrate, on an assault warrant issued at the suit of one Mr. O'Flinn, a tall, well-dressed, sprightly native of the Emerald Isle, who had complained to his worship that he had been grievously assaulted by the said Susanna.

Mr. William O'Flinn, it seems, had a friend, who is the especial _protector_ of the fair defendant.

He went the other night, to deliver a letter to this friend, at the house in which Susanna resides.

His friend was not at home, but he saw Susanna, and she--totally laying aside the delicacy of her sex, "and all the rest of it"--gave him one of the most scurvy receptions imaginable; viz.

, he was standing in the hall, inquiring at the landlady for his friend, when suddenly the parlour door opened, and out rushed Susanna with the velocity of a nine-pounder--"And pray what would you be after wanting with that gentleman?"

--she asked, at the same time attempting to snatch the letter from Mr. O'Flinn's hand.

"It isn't yourself that the letter is for at all, my jewel," replied Mr. O'Flinn, slipping the letter into his pocket--"and as for what I want with that gentleman, you have no right to be asking me the question."

"'Faith, we'll see that," said the lady, and instantly placed her fair back against the front door, evidently with the intention of cutting off Mr. O'Flinn's retreat.

Well, what was to be done now?

It was growing late, and as Mr. O'Flinn very justly observed, if he was detained there he could not go elsewhere.

So, after trying what remonstrance would do, and finding it had no effect whatever, he took hold of the fair hand of the lady and endeavoured to remove her from the door by a little gentle force; but, to his utter astonishment, she instantly disengaged her hand, and in the twinkling of an eye, as it were, he received two or three sound boxes on either ear, and a kick on the abdomen, which for some moments materially interfered with his faculty of breathing.

Astonished that a lady should _kick_, but nothing daunted, he again advanced to the attack, or, Corinthianly speaking, to the _scratch_, taking care, this time, to advance in an attitude of defence--_a-la-Spring_.

His caution was useless, however, for the lady broke through his guard in an instant, boxed his ears again soundly, or rather _soundingly_, and planted another kick on his _bowel-case_, with her dexterous little foot, in the self-same spot as before!

This was an extremely awkward bit of business, and Mr. O'Flinn felt it so.

He could not, consistently with his character as a gentleman, and an Irish gentleman in particular, use greater violence to a lady; and he might have gone on, as before, till he had not an ear left for her to box, or a pair of trowsers for her to kick.

He, therefore, declined coming to the _scratch_ again; and contented himself with calling upon the comely landlady of the dwelling, who all this while had been quietly holding the candle for them.

He peremptorily told her commodious landladyship, that unless he was instantly suffered to go about his business, he would consider himself as detained by her connivance, and have his action against her for false imprisonment accordingly.

This produced the desired effect--the landlady interfered, a parley ensued, and at last Mr. O'Flinn was liberated.

In support of this statement Mr. O'Flinn called the landlady aforesaid.

The landlady (an immense personage) declared she saw neither kicks nor slaps.

Miss Susanna certainly put her back against the door to prevent Mr. O'Flinn from going, until she knew what he wanted with her _friend_; and a sort of scuffle took place in consequence; and that was all she knew about it.

Here Mr. O'Flinn lifted up his bands and eyes in astonishment; for, as he said, the landlady held the candle to them all the while, and could not avoid seeing every bit of it.

The magistrate now asked Miss Susanna what _she_ had to say to it?

The poor girl told a sad tale.

She first burst into tears, and for some seconds was unable to speak.

She then spoke of her former respectable and happy situation in life before she became what she now is--a kept-mistress.

"But," said she, "Mr. ---- has promised to marry me, and I trust in heaven he will!"

Here she wept again, and was proceeding to make some further general remarks, when the magistrate desired her to confine herself to the charge of having assaulted Mr. O'Flinn.

She then admitted having prevented Mr. O'Flinn's departure from the house, and said she was induced to do so, because she verily believed he came with the intention of injuring her in the opinion of the only friend she had in the world--Mr. ----, her _protector_.

As to the kicking, &c. , she denied it; though not very positively.

She was ordered to find bail for her appearance at the Sessions, and Mr. O'Flinn said he should certainly prosecute her; but the magistrate told him he thought it would be better to let such an affair pass over without further notice.

JONAS TUNKS.

Mr. Jonas Tunks, a young gentleman in a jacket of divers colours, well-patched canvas trowsers, no stockings, and shoes curiously contrived to let in the fresh air at the toes, was brought before the sitting magistrate, charged, under the Stat.

1 Geo.

IV.

, with wilfully and maliciously damaging the property of Mrs. Deborah Clutterbuck--the comely landlady of a public-house in the purlieus of St. Giles's proper.

It appeared by the evidence of Mr. Jonathan Dobbs, an operative veterinarian (_vulgo_, a journeyman farrier), that Mr. Jonas Tunks, who is a wandering melodist (_vulgo_, a ballad-singer) by profession, went into the public-house in question, where Mr. Jonathan Dobbs, and several other gentlemen, were taking a _dejeuner a-la-fourchette_ of sheep's-head and pickled cabbage.

He entered the room singing, at the very top of his voice, the favourite _aria_, "Oh, Judy!

my darling!"

and one of the gentlemen politely desiring him to shut his potato-trap, and not make such a noise, he seized a pint of _heavy_ and drank it off to the gentleman's better manners.

The gentleman to whom the _heavy_ belonged, now swore that Mr. Jonas Tunks should _post the blunt_ for it--that is to say, he should pay for it.

But Mr. Jonas Tunks would do no such thing--"Base is the slave that pays!"

he exclaimed; and immediately called for "a quartern of gin of three outs," with which he offered to treat--or as a Corinthian would say,--to "_sluice the ivories_" of the gentlemen present.

The gentlemen, however, would not accept his treat, and "Turn out the blackguard!"

was the universal cry; but Mr. Jonas Tunks was awake to the "_spree_," and before his enemies could say "Jack Robinson," he capsized three pots of _heavy_, scattered the pickled cabbage upon the floor, and very nearly _bolted_ with the better half of a sheep's face!

But, unfortunately, just as he was clearing the threshold of the door, he received the well-shod foot of the veterinarian in the rear, about seven inches and a half below the waistband of his trowsers, and the concussion sent him half across the street, without once touching the pavement!

The veterinarian and his friends, nothing doubting but Jonas was done with, laughed aloud, and returned into the house; but Jonas was not the man to walk off quietly under this dishonourable visitation of tanned calfskin, and before their shout of laughter was over, he had dashed six panes of glass to pieces in the front window of the house--or, to use a very expressive Eganism he had _milled the glaze_ gloriously!

He was immediately overpowered with numbers, and handed over to the strong grasp of the Police.

[Illustration: JONAS TUNKS.

] The magistrate having heard the complaint (for the valiant Jonas scorned to say a word in defence) immediately sentenced him, under the statute above-mentioned, to pay the value of the glass he had broken--viz.

twenty-five shillings; and in default of so doing, he was consigned to three months' imprisonment in Bridewell.

Now really this was a very ill-natured prosecution against Mr. Jonas Tunks; for, after all, what was his offence but a trifling matter of "_back slum_" Corinthianism?

--as the great chronicler of _Life in London_ would phrase it--a mere trifling ebullition of vitality--a slight manifestation of those lively principles which constitute a true "Corinthian," whether in Dyott-street or Pall mall.

MISS HANNAH MARIA JULIANA SHUM AND HER BEAU.

There was a damsel--one Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, charged by the books of Covent Garden watch-house, with having robbed a young gentleman of a golden sovereign.

The young gentleman made such a pathetic appeal against the publication of his name--being, as he said, "a young man just verging into the affairs of the world," that we shall content ourselves (and our readers also, we hope) with saying, he was simply a young gentleman of little person--and that little made the most of, _secundum artem_; that is to say, the boot-maker had lengthened him at one end, and the hair-dresser at the other; whilst his tailor had done all, that padding could do, to increase his bulk longitudinally.

The damsel--Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, was not the purest damsel in existence perhaps--certainly not the purest in attire; and her face, pretty as it was, would have been all the prettier for a commodity of soap and water.

But in describing the persons of this rather ill-matched pair, we shall forget their adventures.

They were thus then:-- The young gentleman left his home on the preceding night with the intention of going to the play, but in his way thither he met Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum.

And she looked at him from under her black arched eye-brow with such a look as he could in no wise resist.

Now, since he could not resist, he should have turned his back and fled; but instead of flying he stood still, and asked her how she did.

She replied, that she should be very well if she was not so very cold; and sighing deeply, she added, "Oh!

what a delightful thing is a glass of nice hot brandy-and-water on such a piercing night as this!"

Here was a direct appeal to the young gentleman's generosity, and gallantry, and all that sort of thing, and everything in the world almost; and he could no more resist the appeal than he could the sparkling of her jet-black eye.

So he gave her his arm and his heart together, and looking round, he saw the words "Fine Cognac Brandy, neat as imported," staring him full in the face from the windows of a tavern, most opportunely opposite.

What was to be said for it?

Nothing at all.

In his opinion the brandy-and-water was inevitable, and they went into the tavern and drank a glass; and so delightful did they find it, that they had another, and another, and another.

But still, as Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum poetically remarked-- "The sweetness that pleasure has in it, Is always so slow to come forth," --that they had another glass or two to help it to come forth faster, and it did--to such a degree, that the young gentleman took up the song and sang-- "As onward we journey, how pleasant, To pause, and inhabit awhile These few _gassy_ spots, like the present, That 'mid the dull wilderness smile[34]!"

By-and-by two other ladies, friends of Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum's, dropped in, and the gentleman insisting upon it, they also had some glasses of hot brandy-and-water, which they also found very delightful.

In short, they were all so jocund, that at length the gentleman made up his mind to make a night of it:--"But first," said he, "I should like just to step home and tell them not to sit up for me."

--"Tell the devil!"

exclaimed Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum--"that's all a _hum_; for if you goes away you'll not come back again."

The gentleman was shocked; but his love was not shaken, and he pledged his honour that he would return.

"_Honour_ is all my eye," said the gentle Juliana Shum?"

--pledge your _honour_ indeed!

--will you pledge a _sovereign_?"

--"I will!"

said the gentleman; and he did--for, as we have already stated, he was a _young_ gentleman.

The ladies waited his return because they were not remarkably well able to go, in consequence of the cogniac.

How they amused themselves during his absence did not appear, but when the gentleman returned, he very _naturally_ expected the return of his sovereign; and the ladies very _naturally_ knew nothing about it; whereupon the young gentleman's love exploded, with a bounce; and his love being all gone, he was ungallant enough to send his once-loved Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, all brandy-begone as she was, to the watch-house.

During the night, however, he repented himself of his cruelty; and he now told the magistrate that he did not wish to prosecute her.

"I am a young man," said he, "just verging into the affairs of the world; and a business of this kind has such an ugly look with it, that I shall be much obliged to you, Sir, if you will let the lady go, and I am sure she is very welcome to keep my sovereign."

The gentle Juliana, seeing matters in this comfortable train, ventured to tender the gentleman his sovereign again, which he as tenderly refused;

and then the magistrate dismissed them both with a rather untender admonition.

ROEBUCK _versus_ CLANCEY.

Mr. Timothy Clancey, landlord of the Robin Hood public-house in Holborn, appeared before Thomas Halls, Esq.

, to answer the complaint of Mrs. Penelope Roebuck; a fine, bouncing, well-dressed dame, fat, fair, and forty.

She had her left eye in deep mourning; and he had as many black patches on his face as the renowned Munchausen.

"May it please your worship," said Mrs. Penelope Roebuck, wiping her comely cheeks and bruised eye with a lavender-scented cambric handkerchief--"May it please your worship, I am Mrs. Roebuck, the wife of Mr. Roebuck, of Somers Town; and yesterday I walked all the way from Chelsea, which very much fatigued me, as your worship may suppose; and being fatigued, I went into Mr. Clancey's, for I had always understood Mr. Clancey to be a mighty nice sort of a man.

'And pray, Mr. Clancey,' said I, 'would you have the goodness to make me sixpenn'orth of brandy and water, warm, with a little sugar in it?'

'No, _mem_,' said he, 'it is not in my power to make sixpenn'orth of brandy and water--the _dooties_ are so high; but you may have eightpenn'orth.

'Very well,' says I, 'it's quite _himmyterul_; make me eightpenn'orth.'

With that, your worship, he made me a very nice glass of brandy and water, and I sat myself down to take it by little and little; for I'm not a person _what's_ given to take my liquor by lumps; but I had scarcely wetted my lips, when he took a very improper liberty--such a liberty, your worship, as I suffers no man to take with me, be he whomsoever he may; and, 'Mr. Clancey,' says I, 'I shouldn't have thought of it from such a _fellur_ as you.'

I might have said something else, your worship, but that's neither here nor there; Mr. Clancey, without saying another word, good, bad, nor indifferent, _had the goodness_ to come out of his bar, and, turning my two hands behind my back, he _conducted_ me out of the house, and _had the goodness_ to fling me down on the hard pavement!

--by which _purlite_ behaviour my eye was blacked, as you see, and my dress, worth at least five pounds, completely _remollished_.

Mr. Timothy Clancey, mine host of the Robin Hood, in his defence, said, Mrs. Roebuck, whilst drinking her brandy and water, abused his wife so grossly, that he firmly, but civilly, desired her to leave the house; but he had no sooner done so, than she flung the goblet, she was drinking from, in his face.

The goblet struck him full on the nose, by which it was shivered to pieces, and his nose and face sadly cut.

In proof of these premises, he produced the broken goblet, and pointed to the black silk patches, which almost covered his countenance.

"I then, and not till then," said he, "laid hands upon Mrs. Roebuck, and thrust her out of my house--and that, I assure your worship, was the only _liberty_ I took with her."

Mrs. Roebuck did not attempt to rebut this statement, and the warrant was discharged.