The Sun.
London, England, 1859-10-03 00:00:00

AN ELOQUENT IRISH BAKER.

At the Caherciveen Fetty Sessions, on Satur-
day last, an assault of rather a frivolous nature
was brought before the bench. The case was
adjourned for some time to wait the arrival of
a witness named Murphy,
c a baker,
policeman was despatched The The Munster for whom a
unster News,
reporting the case, gives Mr. Murphy's speech in
full. The gentleman having made his appearance,
jumped upon the table, and. assuming a theatrial
pose—with head thrown back, right arm extended,
and left palm pressing the region of the heart—pro-
ceeded to deliver the following oration with a world
of gesticulation and emphasis :—lt is with feelings
of heartrending emotion I beg to thank your worship
for the honourable justice you have rendered in await-
ing my arrival here today. You, sir, were pre-emi-
nently aware that I, Mick Murphy, as a handicrafts-
man, or rather mechanical artist, engaged in the
kneading, fabrication, and manufacture of a perish.
able commodity, videlicet, bread, the very staff of
life itself, could not forsake, abandon, and, give up
business without detrimental consequences to my-
self, my employer, and the public at large ; and you
therefore, moved by the preponderating powers
of nature, have benevolently suspended the ada-
mantine sword of justice until my appearance in
this domicile of petty sessional- strife and equity.
Court—Of course, Mr. Murphy, I would do any-
thing to suit your convenience, and now that you
are to be sworn I am sure you will be very care-
ful and tell us the whole truth about this affair.
Mr. Murphy—Faith, your worship, of course I will
-and who is it will stigmatise my feelings ? For
I may inform your worship that there are certain
pre-existing circumstances consistent with my
powers, that shall be for ever buried in the depths
of oblivion, and that it is as morally impossible to
change Mick Murphy from his principles as to re-
move the oak tree from the forest and make it blos-
som in the depths of the ocean. For how does Pope
address me P

" Honour and shame, or between honour and shame there
are no conditions rise,"
" Mick Murphy," he says, "act well your part and never
stoop to lies."
And what does my friend, Bob Burns, say ?

"The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that."
And here I shall terminate or conclude with the
words of the Moorish poet Othello, to his gossip
Hamlet Prince of Denmark ;
" Ha who steals my purse steals trash ;
But he who seizes my good name,
Takes that which buys no grog for him,
And leaves me poor indeed.'
(Shouts of laughter.) Our oratorical friend—whose
buns, we are grieved to remark, are not so weighty
as his speeches, for which his employers, not he, are
to blame—was sworn, and his testimony, and that
of the defendant himself, clearly proving that no
offence was intended to Mr. O'Brien, but that the
occurrence was purely accidental, the case was dis-
missed. Mr. Murphy, after expressing his thanks
to the Court in his usual brilliant style, and mak-
ing a most graceful and comprehensive bow, ac-
companied with a calisthenic scrape with the right
foot, made his exit.

CONVICT LABOUR TURNED TO ACCOUNT.—We are
informed that the admirable condition of the gunboats at
Chatham dockyard, which it is proposed to send as part of
the fleet to China, is entirely owing to convict labour. They
have been thoroughly cleaned, scraped, and painted by a
party of convicts, under the superintendence of a prison
officer, and their condition has elicited, the praise of all com-
as they are now immediately available and in
taesntjlies
serviceabledg a condition as when they were first raised on
the slipway, after the Russian war.—Civil Service Gazette.