I was frequently invited to the hospitable and joyous table of my cousin, the late Anthony Hawkins of Leopardstown, Stillorgan. On one occasion he entertained about a score of guests, of whom I was unquestionably the senior. Choice viands and generous wines sustained and stimulated the utmost hilarity; and when some of the company expressed apprehensions that further indulgence might bring them under the cognizance of the police, the host remarked that they would have a _friend in court_, for it could not be supposed that the jolly old magistrate would lean heavily in the morning on those who had been his boon companions on the preceding evening, and that each of them would get off for _a song_, which he would suggest to be given in advance. Two young fellows, reminded me that they lived on Merchants' Quay, and as that was in my division, they entertained no fears. The company separated in time to avail themselves of the latest train to Dublin, and the two sparks travelled in the same carriage with me. Neither of them was in the slightest degree "the worse for liquor;" and when we parted at Harcourt Street Station we shook hands, and one said, "Good night, your worship, I hope you'll not be hard on us to-morrow." Next morning I was on duty at Exchange Court, and when the charge sheets from Chancery Lane were laid before me, I was astonished beyond description to find my companions who had bespoken my leniency brought forward on an accusation of FELONY. A constable stated that he had seen one of the prisoners get on the shoulders of the other, and pull down a large gilt salmon, which formed the sign over the door of a fishing-tackle establishment on Essex Quay. On taking down the salmon, they were crossing over to the quay wall when he intercepted them, and with the aid of another policeman and a civilian, he captured and brought them to the station-house. Another witness proved that the prisoners stopped at the door over which the sign was suspended, and that one of them said, "Let us give the poor salmon a swim." This evidence induced me to believe that the transaction was not a deliberate theft, but a wanton, mischievous freak. The proprietor of the shop expressed the same opinion, and urged a summary adjudication. They offered to pay for the sign, as it had been broken by an accidental fall; and the court was convulsed with laughter when the proprietor observed that the salmon had been taken "out of the lawful season." The spree cost the two delinquents the moderate sum of six pounds. The subsequent banterings which they had to endure amongst their festive associates completely deterred them from any further manifestation of fishing propensities. POOR PUSS! WHO SHOT HER?