LIFE IN IRELAND 57 



they had been beat by two, and Major Sirr's honour 

 forbade him to expose the strength of his loyal gang. 

 Ned Mulraney, the real DubHn chimney-sweep, who 

 cleaned all the dirty holes ten miles round, Ned alone 

 came forward in company with a watchman as an un- 

 willing witness. ' What have you to say, Ned ? ' asked 

 the Lord Mayor. 'Plase your honoured Worship and 

 glory, I accuses that there hungry watchman with ateing 

 my wig, and that iheiQ Jontie?nan wid feeding him upon 

 it.' ' How 's this ? ' echoed old Turtle Soup. ' I thought 

 you watchmen were not quite such hungry dogs as to 

 love dirty pudding ? ' 'By my best Brush,' said Blackee, 

 ' my wig was cleaner than your Lordship's, for it was 

 wanting flour and sweat, but as I won't afford to pay a 

 tax, I won't be let to keep my head in a stink ; I only 

 say that I saw my good wig go down that bad man's 

 ugly mouth, along with that jontUmajis hand, and the 

 devil a string of the good goat's hair did I ever see 

 more; so, plase your honour, the giver or receiver 

 should certainly pay me for my wig and the could I 

 have got, and the rheumatism, and the neck twingers, 

 and the sea voyage I have had across the Custom 

 House ferry to come here, for what 's neither here nor 

 there, I mean Justice.' 



The watchman acknowledged swallowing his own 

 front teeth, but swore he had disgorged the wig as 

 good as new in the gutter. Sir Shawn settled the 

 matter by a few pounds ; the watchman wished he had 

 a set of bones to dispose of every night at the same 

 price, and Blackee said he could buy twenty such wigs 

 for the price of a glass of whiskey and a promise any 

 day at the door of the Four Courts, Marshalsea. 



