“Did he strike me, is it? Why, then, if he did, I paid it back to him handsomely.” “Answer distinctly. Whom did you see him strike?” “Ah, then, little matter ’twould be who he’d strike, if the boys had his feeding, and he had theirs to depend on for one month. It’s little good the son of ould Thady Minahan, the tinker, would do, if he was living on Ingy male and water.” “Come, come,” said the magistrate, impatiently, “give me a plain answer to a plain question. Did Minahan knock _you_ down?” “Is it the likes of him to knock me down? I’d like to see him try it. He didn’t, nor couldn’t, your Honour’s glory.” Up started the accused, and cried; “I _did_ knock you down, and bate you well, too. Your Honours,” he continued, turning to the bench, “if I’m to swing for it the next minute, I won’t let _that_ go with the vagabone. I wouldn’t lave it to him to say that I didn’t knock him down, and murder him handsomely to his heart’s content.” The witness had been summoned to prove that the master had used unnecessary violence; the defendant was there to prove he had not employed more force than the occasion demanded. But would they establish such proofs at the expense of their respective reputations? Should it be said that Tim Murphy’s friend, or John Minahan, were not able to “murther ach other intirely,” at any given minute’s notice? Never! Tim Murphy’s friend would starve on “Ingy male,” and John Minahan would lose his place first. What became of the witness has not been stated; but the defendant did lose his situation; the guardians of the Union thought that his national ideas of honour were undoubtedly more suited to military than to civil avocations. Although it is doubtful whether _the_ Irish peculiarity will ever be totally eradicated from the national character, yet the savage custom of faction-fighting is becoming each year more rare. Sometimes, indeed, at the close of a fair a “bit of a fight” does spring up; but the casualties thence resulting, are seldom of a grave or fatal character; and the contending parties may frequently be seen proceeding homewards, with arms lovingly linked together, and tongues vowing eternal friendship; although this, it must be confessed, is an indication of a renewal rather than of the end of an Irish fight. No doubt the process of fusing the national peculiarities of the three kingdoms is advancing rapidly. It is no wild speculation to anticipate the probability, that fifty years hence there may be little apparent difference between an average native of England, Ireland, (always excepting the “extreme wild Irishman”) or Scotland. WHERE DWELL THE DEAD?