great indignation at Richard Gilmore's attempt to transport an innocent creature whom he had vowed to love and cherish. Without separating the prisoner from the other women, I proceeded to swear the first witness, one William Jones, who stated that he was a parish clerk of some unpronounceable place in Wales; that he remembered the marriage of Thomas Jones and Elizabeth Jones, and he produced the registry; he recollected the matter very distinctly, the more so from the parties being both of the same name as himself. I directed him to look at the women present, and to point out the one whom he had seen married at the time mentioned in the registry if she was amongst them. Mr. Jones walked to the group, viewed all the women, and very deliberately placing his hand on Mrs. Canavan's shoulder, identified her as the culprit. He was instantly electrified by a burst of abuse, delivered in an accent acquired much nearer to Patrick Street than to Penmaemawr. Mrs. Canavan's vocabulary was too copious to be select. I do not think that I could have restrained her, and I admit that I allowed her a latitude from which I derived some amusement. She descanted on the propriety of "cropping the ears"[5] of perjured parish clerks, but gave up that idea as, on full consideration, it appeared too mild a treatment for the Welshman. She proceeded to assure him, that there was not a gaol in Ireland that would refuse him admission; and that in no place of such a description could he meet with anyone worse than himself. She appealed to my benevolent tendencies to have the Welsh fellow transported at once, upon the grounds that it would be "a charity;" and she descanted on the physiological defect in such a parish clerk having been born without handcuffs, suggesting an artificial amendment of the natural deficiency. She thanked Mr. Jones for the pleasant news, that she had one husband in Dublin and another in Wales, and assured him that he might expect some very particular attentions from the Dublin one in acknowledgment of his testimony. "And still she talked, and still the wonder spread, That one small tongue could utter all she said."