They replied that they were actually invited to supper at that hotel, by their friend Mr. Kecksy, who was very well known to the landlord, and they fully expected he would have come in during the supper, or otherwise they would not have ordered the supper. They had, however, offered the landlord their address, and had assured him he should be paid in the morning. "Then pay it now"--said the magistrate--"the morning is arrived!" The defendants looked blank--and did not offer to pay. Mr. Joy observed, that their story about Mr. Kecksy was a mere absurdity, as that gentleman was _out of town_. "He is not out of town," said one of the supper-eaters, "for I saw him yesterday afternoon." "The fact is, your worship, he is in the King's Bench prison," said Mr. Joy. "That is false, Sir!--He is not," exclaimed the supper-eater. "Where is he, then?" said his worship. "Why, Sir, he is--in the _Rules_!" replied the supper eater. Every soul in the office laughed at this nice distinction; and the magistrate cut the matter short by telling Mr. Joy he could not detain the gentlemen for the amount of their _supper_, as it was a simple contract debt; but he could hold them to bail for the _assault_. They were accordingly ordered to find bail, and not being prepared with any, they were consigned to the attentions of the turnkey, without any order for their breakfast. CUPBOARD LOVE. Mr. George Pendergast, the principal of a _flue-feaking_ establishment--or, in ordinary phrase, a master chimney-sweeper appeared upon a peace warrant issued at the instance of Mr. Christopher Williamson, a painter--not of pictures, but posts and penthouses. Mr. Christopher Williamson deposed, that on a certain day named, Mr. Pendergast came into his apartments while he and Mrs. Williamson were quietly taking their tea and crumpets, and without any notice whatever, knocked him off of his chair what he was sitting on; and upon his telling Mr. Pendergast he thought such conduct very _ungenteel_, Mr. Pendergast told him to make himself easy, for he would "come it again" as often as he thought proper; from all which, he verily believed that Mr. Pendergast intended to do him some grievous bodily harm, and therefore he prayed the interposition of the law. Mr. Pendergast, who stood before the bench all soot without, and all gin and jollity within, very readily admitted the assault--adding, "I think, your worship, it was time to give him a bit of a floorer when I found my own wife in his _cupboard_!" His worship said if that was the facts it certainly had a rather awkward appearance; but Mr. Williamson assured him Mrs. Pendergast only ran into the cupboard to avoid her husband's violence--"And upon my honour, your worship," said he, "there wasn't a morsel of _Crim. Con._, or anything of that 'ere sort, in the business at all."