'
"'Not another wurrud,' says th' coort, 'or ye'll be fired out. No wan
shall insult th' honest, hard-wurrukin', sober, sensible journalists
iv Fr-rance. Not if this coort knows it. Ye bet ye, boys, th' coort is
with ye. Th' press is th' palajeen iv our liberties. Gin'ral Merceer
will raysume his tistimony. He was speakin' of th' game iv goluf.'
"'Perhaps I'd betther sing it,' says th' gin'ral.
"'I'll play an accompanymint f'r ye on th' flute,' says th' prisident
iv th' coort. 'While Gin'ral Merceer is proceedin' with his remarks,
call Colonel Pat th' Clam, who is sick an' can't come. Swear Gin'ral
Billot, Gin'ral Boisdeffer, Gin'ral Chammy, an' th' former mimbers iv
th' governmint.'
"'I object to thim bein' sworn,' says Matther Blamange.
"'They must be sworn,' says th' prisident. 'How th' divvle can they
perjure thimsilves if they ain't sworn? An' who ar-re ye, annyhow?'
"'I'm th' counsel f'r th' pris'ner,' says Matther Blamange. 'Get out
ye'ersilf,' says Matther Blamange. 'I'm as good a man as ye ar-re. I
will ask that gintleman who jest wint out the dure, Does it pay to
keep up appearances?' [Groans.
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