We have been thus particular in describing the person of Mr. Walters, in order to show that he had no business whatever to be meddling with Mrs. Thompson, or with any other lady. And now for his defence:--"Please your worship, Sir," said he, "I have lodged in Mr. Thomas Thompson's house just one month next _Toosday_ week--I _think_ it's _Toosday_; but howsomever, that's neither here nor there. I'm a young man from the country, your worship; a tailor _by trade_; and so is Mr. Thomas Thompson--only he's a _master_, and I'm a _man_! (His worship smiled.) Last night, your worship, Sir, I met a _foo_ friends, and when I went home I had a great deal of trouble to open the street door--("No doubt of it," observed his worship)--and somehow or other, when I got in, instead of getting into my own room, I got into the yard: it's a sort of timber-yard: and there I was, poking about among the timber, please your worship--I'm sure for a good long hour, and I couldn't find my road out of it for the life of me!--and at last I found myself in Mr. Thomas Thompson's bed-room; but I'll be hanged if ever I touched his wife, or struck him; and I'll give you my honour that I did not go there intentionally." His worship had no faith in the _honour_ of Mr. Walters, and he was ordered to find bail for the assault, in default whereof he was handed over to the gaoler. BEEF VALOUR. James Green, alias _Jemmy Green_, a short, squat, spherical-phizzed, poodle-pated, seedy subject--between a buck and a bumpkin, said to be the identical hero of the Moncriefian, Adelphian, Tom and Jerry-extinguishing, nondescript gallimaufry, yclep'd "_Jemmy Green_ in France;" and Launcelot Snodgrass, were brought up from the almost bottomless pit of St. Clement's watch-house, charged with sundry midnight disorders in an alamode beef-house; and also with an outrageous assault upon Edmund Speering, Esq., of New Inn, and divers other persons--subjects of our Sovereign Lord the King.