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Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4443, 2 April 1883, Page 2

A stumpy, strongly-built young Milesian, with a bibulous complexion and a bandage round his hat, was up in the Jefferson Market-Police Court, New York, charged with being drunk and assaulting a policeman. " I'm a Btranger here, yer Honor," he remarked, " an' I only arrived on Sunday. I was djin' wid the drought, an' as I kern up the street I saw this red' nosed policeman standin' near a tavern." Good morning, sorr," says I»- •'• kin ye tell me where I can buy a good glass o' whisky?" ".Not today," says he' "some other day—for it's agin the law to sell on Sunday." "If the bars are closed," says I perlitely, " how do ye conthrive to keep up the color ay yer face?" Thin he grabbed me be the throat and flung me out into the road. '' Come out here," says I, " an' I wrassle ye over me showldher." Before I had half a hoult on him he struck me a lick with his club an' kicked the heels from under me. If I'd a had fair play I cud hare stud him >on his head, The prisoner escaped with a fine $10, or a month's committal.