Of my Incarceration in the Jug
that had no thought but to keep his mother in bread and his wife in garters. ’Twas a marvel that he did not attach half a score of gaping brats upon me. According to him I was a half-starved sort of snip, as took my meals in a boiling-house, and was as regular for church as a girl in her teens. He pursued these silly lies so long and with such satisfaction that I could endure him no further.
“Gag that fat fool,” says I, “for an’ the topsman must have me he may have me and welcome, but I’ll meet him after my own fashion, and not with the character of a poltroon.”
There was little more to be said after that. And soon the Judge got to his feet, and says he: “Prisoner at the bar, have you any reason to urge why I should not pass sentence upon you?”
“My lord,” says I, speaking very loftily, “an’ I had gotten a lawyer with a proper tongue in his mouth, and some brains to his skull, and an’ it had not been for yonder sour-featured Sheriff, this honourable Court
197
