proposal, and, on the sureties having been produced, I allowed the accused party to leave, and entered in the summons-book that the complaint was "dismissed without prejudice." I did not manifest the slightest sympathy for the delinquent, but informed him that he owed his escape from severe punishment entirely to the lenity of the Crown solicitor, and not to any disinclination on my part to have him made seriously and severely responsible for his misconduct. In a few days he became the subject of a lyric panegyric, in which his prosecution was attributed to Colonel Browne and Mr. Whiteside, and the stoppage of the proceedings was ascribed _to me_ and to Mr. Curran; the course adopted by the latter gentleman being the only thread of truth interwoven in a web of fiction, and sung to an old Irish air, which I am not able to particularise. It has been entitled by an additional fiction-- THE LOWER CASTLE YARD. You gallant-hearted Irishmen, Come listen to my lay, The melancholy muse I woo, She comes in tears to-day. Oh Wirra! Wirrasthrue, says she, Sure Dublin's noblest bard Is took before his tyrants In the Lower Castle Yard. In Cook Street was our Printer born, In Cook Street was he bred, The legends of Hibernia's land His young ideas fed, How Brian Coru and Granyah too, Did Saxons disregard, And the flag of green once waved serene In the Upper Castle Yard. His first animadversions Were on the paving stones, Why should you send your cash to Wales, To Taffy or to Jones? Why not lay down, throughout the town, Your Irish granite hard? And macadamize the dirty spies In the Lower Castle Yard? Colonel Browne, he being a Welshman, Swore by St. David's bones He'd prosecute the Irishman Who dare oppose their stones. He order'd Whiteside to indict And carcerate the Bard; Let him try, says he, Geology, In the Lower Castle Yard. But good luck to Frank Thorpe Porter, That expounder of the laws, Likewise to Adye Curran, Who was counsel in the cause. They tann'd the hide of long Whiteside, And did him disregard, And freed our Printer from his fangs, In the Lower Castle Yard. A QUESTION AND ANSWER.