A LORD MAYOR IN THE DOCK.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 1736, 10 January 1888, Page 3

A LORD MAYOR IN THE DOCK.

It is only m Ireland, the land of bewildering paradox (Fays a Home paper), yon could witness such a scene. A great crowd was bef oro the Mansion House and thronging Dawaon street, cheering with all its might every now and then. One side of the street was lined with carriage.", m which were gentlemen wearing scarlet robes trimmed with fur. The Lord Mayor was getting into his state coach, a gorgeous vehicle, blazing with heraldry, precedes him, through the windows of which the mace and sword protrude. The High Sheriff and the ex- High Cheriff, m their robes, aro waiting m an open carriage a little further on. A splendid person m military uniform, with a cocked hat, the City Marshal, rides up and down, clanking his sword and jingling his spurs, arranging tho procession. All thiß is the Lord Mayor and Corporation of the ancient city of Dublin about to proceed through the city m state. They are going to the Police Conit, where the Lord Mayor is to be prosecuted under the Coercion Act for printing reports of the suppressed branches of the National League m his newspaper, the "Nation." Presently there is a mighty cheer, and the precession ■tarts. If yoa did not know what it we a about yon would think it was a fete. It only wants garlands strewing the ways. Through avenues of cheering people, through forests of waving hats, past quays, from the windows of the hopes of either side handkerchiefs flatter wildly. Those well-bailt qa&ye, with the h»zy river m the midday sunlight, beautiful bat dilapidated are now a striking sight with their doable selvage of animated people. Ton are reminded of the quays of Paris, which under happier circumstances they might ba like. Policemen keep the route clear. They draw thetmo'.ves np and salute ret spectfully the culprit on bis way to the dock ; for after all he Is the chtef magistrate of the oily, the highest civic dignitary of the land, and there before him go the High Sheriffs and the mace and sword, symbols of authority— empty arid raooking, bat still eymto's, and therefore compelling respect from symbol-re* veriog men. The crowd thickens as the police court is neared. Women crowd around the carriages and grasp the Lord Mayor's hand and kiss the far on his robe. " Ah, thin, bad look to the Government !" shoots one old man, •'Three oheerg for the Mitohelatown black thorns !" cries a lusty youth, and an ear-plercbg response Is given him; From the window of the Four Courts a group of ladles wave handkerchiefs -this is a signal of friendship from the castle of the enemy. In a moment we are m the yard of the police court. Even here the hand of the people has reached ; somebody has stack upon the outer wall the oartoon of " United Ireland " representing Mr Balfour extinguishing the liberty of the Press. The occupants of the carriage! dismount. Preceded by the aldermen, councillors, and by the sword aud macobearer, attended by his chaplain and eeoretery, and ushered by his liveried train of servants, the Bight Hon T. D. Sullivan, M.P., Lord Mayor of Dnblln, In his white hair and stately robes and chain, looking like a Venetian Doge, enters the Court as a culprit la bis turn, where the Magistrate has jast disposed of his usual list of thieves and drabs and drunkards, for whom a police van Is waiting In the yard below.