The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 209: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AN EXPLOSION — 183 he obtained sufficient insight into its origin and nature to — determine him to dismiss the charge and place the whole groundwork of the proceedings upon another footing. “ Now, Mr. Jones,” he said, ‘ you complain that Na- thaniel Sneaksby and Ichabod Paxwax have enticed your daughter away from home, is it not so? ” ‘“‘Yes, your worship,” replied the individual thus addressed; “and if that isn’t a reason why I should punch their heads — ”’ “Hush! hush!” ejaculated the magistrate. ‘‘ We know nothing of punching heads here, or rather, we know too much of it in the cases that come before us. But what age is your daughter, Mr. Jones? ”’ “Turned of twenty, your worship,’”’ was the answer; “‘ and if that isn’t an age when she ought to know better, I’m cursed if l—”’ ‘Hush! hush!” interposed the functionary on the bench. “You must not make use of such language, or I shall fine you five shillings. I want to do you justice, for I see that you have been ill-treated; but you should curb your temper.” - “ The man of Belial!” moaned Mr. Sneaksby, first bending his eyes with an expression of sorrowful reproach upon Mr: Jones, and then turning up the said eyes like a duck in a thunder-storm. “The man of wrath!” groaned Mr. Paxwax, imitating his reverend leader as much as possible, alike in tone and looks. “ Silence!” exclaimed the usher of the court, er “What saith that. Philistine, Brother Paxwax? ” asked Mr. Sneaksby, assuming the martyrized air of a saint. “That we-must bridle our tongues, Brother Sneaksby,”’ was the lugubrious response. * Silence! ’”? once more ejaculated the usher. : ) “Please your washup,’” observed Mrs. Piggleberry, imagining that this was the very best time for her to state what she knew of the matter, “them two unsavoury wessels has debauched and ruinated the poor gal which I loved as well as if she was my own mother, — least wage, my darter, I should say —” “ Oh, aunt,” exclaimed Miss Ann Jones, under the im- pression that she could do nothing better than get up.a little scene, and perhaps go into hysterics by way of a finale, “ I COU AGE) SS) (GO)