SIR R. BIRNIE.--Had you not better receive the money now it is offered to you, Mr. H.?--You know the old adage says, "If you will not when you may," &c. Mr. H. thanked his worship for his suggestion, and said--to be sure--that was another affair--and if Mr. C. were actually to tender him the money--he did not know that he should, altogether, refuse it. Mr. C. instantly took out a handful of sovereigns, and tossed the amount of the claim down upon the table; and it as instantly slided into the right-hand breeches pocket of Mr. H. This interesting ceremony ended, Mr. C. resumed his defence. He denied that he had menaced Mr. H. in the violent manner he had described. It was true he had raised his stick for a moment, but it was only in consequence of Mr. H. exclaiming, loud enough to be heard by many people passing, "Oh! Sir--everybody knows what you are!" SIR R. BIRNIE said the affair hardly amounted to a breach of the peace, and unless Mr. H. could swear that he went in "bodily fear" of Mr. C., he certainly should not feel justified in holding the latter gentleman to bail. "_Bodily fear!_" cried Mr. H.--and snatching up his hat he left the office, uttering something which to us sounded very much like "_Fudge!_" TOM SAYERS. Tom Sayers, a fellow of lofty dimensions was brought up on an assault warrant, charged with having broken the nose of one Mr. Bybie Garmondsway, against the peace, &c. Tom Sayers is a man who, during the late Peninsular war, "sought the bubble reputation, e'en in the cannon's mouth," as a British grenadier. Whether he found it or not, we are unable to say; but certain it is that he now enjoys the reputation of being an admirable culinary bricklayer--a dexterous setter of kitchen ranges; and with this reputation he is fully satisfied--handling his trowel, and dandling his little ones, and cherishing his wife, and drinking his beer, in peace and thankfulness. Mr. Bybie Garmondsway, notwithstanding his uncommon name, is as common a looking concern as possible--a dirty little land-lubber in a seaman's dress, with a queer nose, queerly decorated on this occasion with divers broad straps of sticking-plaister--_à la Baron Munchausen_. "An please your worship," said Mr. Bybie Garmondsway, with his hat grasped in both hands, and giving the floor a long scrape with his off foot--"an please your worship, last Tuesday night, as ever was, I goz into the Crown, in Seven Diles, thinking of nothin at all." "Very likely,"--said his worship. "Thinking of nothin at all," continued Mr. Bybie Garmondsway, "an ax'd for a pint of porter; an there were this here gentleman, Mr. Sayers, singing a song; an, becoz I said the song was all _gammon_, he punch'd my head, as your worship may see by my nose, an the landlord chucked me out before I'd half drink'd my beer!--an that's the whole truth about it, as Mr. Sayers can't deny if he's a mind to speak."