The following week he was in the dock again on a similar charge, and similar evidence was given. Mr. Biron was sitting, and asked him for his defence, which Ebbs commenced by asking: ‘Would half a pint of four-ale make your worship drunk?’ ‘I don’t think so,’ said his worship. ‘No, nor I don’t think so either.’ He said this in such a knowing way as to intimate that it would take a good many half-pints to do it. Even the magistrate laughed, but, trying to look severe, he said: ‘I don’t see that that has anything to do with the matter.’ ‘Oh yes, your worship, it has, for I will show you, and it is this way. I came out yesterday morning with twopence in my pocket; my old woman won’t let me have more.’ ‘Quite right, too,’ interposed the magistrate. ‘Well, I have got twopence. I come out; I meet with an old friend. Now, what is my duty as an Englishman?’ ‘Oh, I can’t say,’ said his worship. ‘Yes, you can, Mr. Biron--yes, you can. You know, for you are an Englishman: half a pint for him and half a pint for me. Now, I assure you honestly that I had no more, and if half a pint of four-ale won’t make you drunk, why should it make me drunk? See? And if you are not to be punished for drinking several half-pints, how can it be right or just for you to punish me for drinking one?’ ‘Well, I think I can answer that,’ said Mr. Biron, ‘by admitting that the law gives me no power or right to punish you for drinking half a pint, but it does give me the power and the right to punish you for the effects of that half-pint, and it is my duty to do so. You must pay twenty shillings, and, mind, if you come here again on a similar charge, I’ll make it forty.’ Again his wife took him out of pawn and saw him home. The next week he was there again; same kind of charge and evidence. But this time Ebbs stood in the dock looking solemn and serious. ‘Now, Ebbs, what have you to say?’ Looking quite pathetic, he said: ‘I am very, very sorry, your worship, but I have been a fool this time.’ ‘Hold!’ said his worship; ‘don’t say any more, or you will spoil it. You have made the best speech you ever made in this court. I am glad you are coming to your senses. I meant to fine you forty shillings, but now you are realizing your folly, I shall only fine you five.’ As the gaoler took him out of the court he put his hand to the side of his mouth, and called out, loud enough for all in court to hear: ‘Didn’t I draw the feather over Mr. Biron’s eyes nicely!’ And everybody laughed, Mr. Biron included. It took a collision to cure him of his noble ambition, and the last time I saw him in court he was fined heavily, and afterwards the police court knew him no more. But I saw him several times, and he told me that he was no longer going to be a fool for half a pint of four-ale.