Mr. Mulligan did; and for three hours and a quarter, in a speech crammed with Latin quotations, and unsurpassed for eloquence, he explained the situation of me and my family; the romantic manner in which Tuggeridge the elder gained his fortune, and by which it afterwards came to my wife; the state of Ireland; the original and virtuous poverty of the Coxes--from which he glanced passionately, for a few minutes (until the judge stopped him), to the poverty of his own country; my excellence as a husband, father, landlord; my wife's, as a wife, mother, landlady. All was in vain--the trial went against us. I was soon taken in execution for the damages; five hundred pounds of law expenses of my own, and as much more of Tuggeridge's. He would not pay a farthing, he said, to get me out of a much worse place than the Fleet. I need not tell you that along with the land went the house in town, and the money in the funds. Tuggeridge, he who had thousands before, had it all. And when I was in prison, who do you think would come and see me? None of the Barons, nor Counts, nor Foreign Ambassadors, nor Excellencies, who used to fill our house, and eat and drink at our expense,--not even the ungrateful Tagrag! I could not help now saying to my dear wife, “See, my love, we have been gentlefolks for exactly a year, and a pretty life we have had of it. In the first place, my darling, we gave grand dinners, and everybody laughed at us.” “Yes, and recollect how ill they made you,” cries my daughter. “We asked great company, and they insulted us.” “And spoilt mamma's temper,” said Jemimarann. “Hush! Miss,” said her mother; “we don't want YOUR advice.” “Then you must make a country gentleman of me.” “And send Pa into dunghills,” roared Tug. “Then you must go to operas, and pick up foreign Barons and Counts.” “Oh, thank heaven, dearest papa, that we are rid of them,” cries my little Jemimarann, looking almost happy, and kissing her old pappy. “And you must make a fine gentleman of Tug there, and send him to a fine school.” “And I give you my word,” says Tug, “I'm as ignorant a chap as ever lived.” “You're an insolent saucebox,” says Jemmy; “you've learned that at your fine school.” “I've learned something else, too, ma'am; ask the boys if I haven't,” grumbles Tug. “You hawk your daughter about, and just escape marrying her to a swindler.” “And drive off poor Orlando,” whimpered my girl. “Silence! Miss,” says Jemmy, fiercely. “You insult the man whose father's property you inherited, and bring me into this prison, without hope of leaving it: for he never can help us after all your bad language.” I said all this very smartly; for the fact is, my blood was up at the time, and I determined to rate my dear girl soundly.