The Sun.
London, England, 1834-08-14 00:00:00

POLICE INTELLIGENCE.

MANSION-HO USE.
Owen Allen and Patrick Donovan were charged with
having been ringleaders in one of those desperate rows
which take place so frequently on Sunday mornings in the
several Irish districts of the metropolis.
Carthy, the landlord of the Black Horse public-house,
in Petticoat-lane, stated that the defendants and three or
four other persons walked into his house at nine o'clock on
Sunday evening last, and after having drank and paid for
three pots of beer, which, together with what they had
" lushed" before, disguised them all, requested to have a
fourth pot of heavy upon "tick." Witness refused, as lie
saw the party were far gone in liquor, and Allen retaliated
for the unkindness by heaving the heavy upon the floor.
Witness, suspecting that this was the regular forerunner of
a row, called in a watchman, who went to work in earnest,
but was checked in his impetuosity by Allen, who jumped
upon a settle for the purpose of jumping more effectually
upon the body of the new and unwelcome visitor, a feat
which he accomplished in such a manner that the guardian
of the night was supposed to have given up his charge for
the regions of eternal day. All the rest of the Irish then
got into the hubbub, and murder must have been com-
mitted if the metropolitan police had not joined in the en-
deavour to prevent mischief ; kicking, stamping, biting,
throttling, breaking noses in two, murdering, and knocking
lightning out of the eyes were the ingredients of the night's
entertainment.
The LORD 11LtY0R—The landlord was the immediate
cause of all this. He did as the publicans of London are
not in the habit of doing. He poured down the throats of
his customers all that was calculated to intoxicate, and was
only checked by the absence of cash. If they had more
money, more liquor would have been produced.
The prisoner Donovan—Plase your Lordship, as God is
my judge, Allen was as drunk as a lord, and did nothing
in the world but tumble down neck and crop. I said no-
thing but don't kill the poor boy, and that was the very
reason they done it.

. -
The LORD MAYoa—Why he is not quite dead yet.
Donovan—But, please your Honour, he was as dead as a
nit ; v;Tarn't you, Owen, jewel ?
Allen—ln truth I was, Paddy. They knocked me
senseless, and then they began to murther all the rest of us.
The devil a fut I stirred until I found myself in the watch-
house, and thin the divil a fut I could stir, for they tied me
up 'together like a wisp of straw.
A watchman of Portsoken Ward having heard murther
was going on in Petticoat Lane, went down to put a stop
to it ; but just as he walked into the house he was met by
an Irish kick in the face, which flattened his nose, and be
actually felt his eyes fly into the back of his head. He was
blowed if ever he got such a whack since lie was born.
Well, though he was a watchman, and had orders to look
after the Ward, he did not know where he was till he got
another kick, but as that was at the back of his head, he
supposed it brought him to his senses ; so up he got,
and he went to the door, called to the police, and he re-
turned to put an end to the riot, but he got another Irish
pelt that made him feel as though he hadn't a bit of mouth
upon him, and then all the Irish danced upon his body
until it was almost on a level with the floor.—(Great
laughter.)

Donovan—l didn't dance upon him, for my hand, please