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supposed to have been acquired by highway robbery, were found. There was a case quite sufficient for the conviction of Flood, in the affair for which he was apprehended; but it was deemed expedient to investigate several other charges, and amongst them the robbery of Mr. Gonne, who minutely detailed all the circumstances of his disagreeable adventure on the Lucanroad, but he could not identify the prisoner. He was then directed by the magistrate to pass round to the rere of the bench, and view a number of watches which were in a drawer, of which the magistrate had the key. His watch was not amongst them. Flood was committed for trial, and sent to Newgate on two other charges, but the robbery of Mr. Gonne was not considered one on which an indictment could be sustained.

At the period to which this narrative refers, there was a Lord Lieutenant in Ireland belonging to the highest rank of nobility. His tastes and amusements were rather dissimilar to those of our present Viceroy. His personal undertaking was sufficient for the disposal of three or four bottles of claret after dinner. He was so good a judge of whiskey-punch, as to impart to Kinahan's L. L. its peculiar designation and much of its popularity amongst "choice spirits." He dined at Donnybrook fair, upstairs in a tent, visited John's Well in its pattern days, took oyster suppers at the cellar of Queen Casey, in Britain-street, patronised an occasional cockle party at Irishtown, superintended matches of single stick in the ridingschool, witnessed what was then termed the "royal sport of cockfighting," in Clarendon-street, and his fingers were no strangers to "the gloves." But his favourite amusement was harmless and graceful-he played rackets frequently in John's-lane, and took great pleasure in witnessing a match well contested by first-rate players. At the time of Flood's detection, his Excellency was making a tour through the south of Ireland, and after an interval of about six weeks, he returned to Dublin, to receive some English visitors of distinguished position and convivial propensities. Amongst them was Lord Sydney Osborne, the brother of the Duke of Leeds. This nobleman prided himself upon his skill at rackets, and on the day of his arrival, stated at the viceregal table, that he was open to play any man in the world for a thousand guineas. His Excellency immediately took up the wager, and undertook to find a successful competitor for his noble guest. It was stipulated that the match should be played within three weeks, at the Kildare-street Club Racket-court. On the following morning the Lord Lieutenant proceeded to John's-lane, and apprised the marker of the racket-court that he wished to find a little fellow, whom he had frequently seen there, and whom he described as the most expert player that he had ever seen, as one who distanced all his antagonists, but he had forgotten his name.

"My lord,” replied the marker, "I think your Excellency means Flood." 66 Yes-yes; I now recollect the name; I want him particularly, for I have wagered a large sum on his playing a match with an English gentleman; and if he wins, I shall reward him most amply."

"Murder! murder !" exclaimed the marker, "your Grace must lose; Flood can't play your match, he is to be hung on Saturday. He played

rackets well, but he played some queer tricks too; he used to go looking for watches and pocket-books on the roads outside Dublin, so he was caught at last, just near Merrion church-yard. Baron George tried him, and he was found guilty. The judge told him to expect no mercy, so he is to die at Newgate, on Saturday."

"'Tis a d- -d business," said his Excellency.

"It's likely enough to end that way, indeed,” replied the marker, for he was rather badly conducted, and he has but a very short time to make his soul. It is a pity for poor Flood; he has played a losing game at last. He was always lucky here, and would win at any odds, but Tom Galvin* will beat him now on a tie."

His Excellency departed greatly disconcerted; he felt that he had been too hasty in his wager. His thousand guineas appeared to be hopelessly gone, and he could not bear to think how Lord Sydney would chuckle at a walk over. He dined that day in Stephen's-green, with his very intimate friend, Sir Hercules L- to whom, after the first cooper of claret had disappeared, he communicated his unpleasant predicament. To his great surprise, Sir Hercules did not appear to think that there was any very great difficulty in the matter, and even intimated his willingness to back Flood for a hundred or two. "There is no danger," observed the convivial baronet, "of a change of ministry; you will be Lord Lieutenant for some years, so the sooner you give Flood a pardon, and set him to practise for the match, the better chance for your wager."

"Could there be a memorial got up in his favour ?" suggested his Excellency.

"It would not be advisable," replied Sir Hercules, "it would make the affair a public topic. No, that would not do; just send over a pardon to-morrow; let Flood come to me, I shall procure liberty for the fellow to practise at the Shelbourne-barracks, and he can also get into the court at the Club at early hours, as I understand that the match is to be played there." It was soon known that Flood was saved; the motive was left to public ingenuity to discover, and, consequently, every reason, except the true one, was assigned. It was supposed by many that he had given some valuable information about a recent robbery of the mail; but in the meantime, he had been apprised of the high opinion entertained of his skill as a racket-player, and the expectations that he would win the match. Full of gratitude for his escape from the gallows, he promised to win, and redeemed his promise. His noble antagonist was an excellent player, but in hand, eye, and agility, the tailor was vastly superior. The nobleman became agitated and lost his temper, which was speedily followed by his money. His aristocratic feelings were not, however, outraged by even a suspicion of the fact, that he was defeated by a little tailor, who, if the law had been permitted to take its course, would have "shuffled off his mortal coil" in front of Newgate, and who had been liberated from the condemned cell, for the purpose of liberating a thousand guineas from the pocket of a duke's brother.

*The executioner.

His Excellency gave Flood fifty pounds and some good advice, suggesting a removal from Dublin, and even from Ireland; but Flood was, for some time, unwilling to depart. He remained amongst those who could only know him as "the unhanged one," in a city where character could never be retrieved. His trade was useless; he could obtain no employment. His money was soon exhausted; and he had an insuperable objection to` recur to his former nocturnal strolls in quest of watches and purses. Unwilling to give the law another chance of his neck, he at length determined to leave Ireland, as soon as he could obtain the means of crossing the channel. Mr. Gonne was rather surprised by receiving a visit from him, and still more by the request of a pound note. The indignation of the man who had been robbed of his watch and money exploded at once. He assured Flood how sincere were his feelings of disappointment and regret at finding that the gallows had been shamefully defrauded of its due. He then informed him, in terms more plain than polite, that he could not expect any contribution on the voluntary principle, but that a reasonable expenditure would willingly be incurred to procure a halter, if its application to Flood's neck was guaranteed. The "unhanged one" bore all this very meekly, and said that he had a simple and intelligible proposal to make, namely, that Mr. Gonne should lodge one pound in the hands of a certain person, on condition that it should be restored if the watch was not recovered by its owner; but if the article was procured for Mr. Gonne, Flood was to receive the pound to enable him to leave Dublin for ever.

This offer was acceded to, and the pound was deposited with Jack Stevenson, of St. Andrew-street. Jack was a man of very extensive connections. He had nephews and nieces in abundance, and whenever any of them wished to retire plate, jewels, or trinkets, from the vulgar gaze, Jack, like an affectionate uncle, advanced and took charge of the valuable deposits. He adorned the space between his front windows with the ancient arms of Lombardy, three golden apples, and his transactions with his relatives were of such a particular nature, that they were recorded in duplicate. He had known Flood in his early days, before he had become an adept in either racket-playing or robbing. The pound having been lodged, Flood and Gonne proceeded to the last place in Dublin to which it might be supposed that Flood's steps might be voluntarily directed, to the police office, where he had been charged, and from which he had been committed: There he told Gonne to remain at the exterior door, and when the magistrate came out to ask him "What o'clock is it exactly now, sir?" Gonne complied strictly with this direction, and his worship readily, but rather too hastily, produced a watch. No sooner was it displayed than its appearance elicited the most disagreeable oath ever sworn before a justice of the peace, for Gonne instantly exclaimed, "By that's my watch."

Gonne obtained his watch, and was with great difficulty prevented from bringing the transaction under the notice of the government. The system by which the worthy justice managed occasionally to possess himself of a valuable watch or some other costly article, consisted in having two or

three drawers, wherein to keep the property found with highwaymen or thieves. If the prosecutor identified the delinquent, he was then shown the right drawer; but if he could not swear to the depredator's person, the wrong drawer was opened. The magistrate to whom this narrative refers, was dismissed in a short time after, for attempting to embezzle fifty pounds. The contributor of this narrative only wishes to add, in reference to such an ornament to the bench, that he was not a barrister. Flood was afterwards, for many years, the marker of a racket court, at Tottenham Court-road, London. He judiciously and wittily changed his name to Waters.

Dwyer, one of the insurgent chiefs of 1798, had prolonged his resistance to the authorities for a considerable time after the insurrection had been generally quelled. In the mountains of Wicklow, with some few, but faithful followers, he evaded every exertion for his apprehension. Mr. Hume, of Humewood, near Baltinglass, was particularly anxious to secure Dwyer. He was the commander of a corps of yeomanry and a magistrate of the county of Wicklow, which he also represented in Parliament. His influence was very extensive, and he easily obtained the co-operation of the civil and military functionaries of his own and the adjoining districts. Still, Dwyer was not to be had. At length he made an arrangement, that the yeomanry corps of the western division of Wicklow should assemble, at an early hour on a particular day, at Humewood, and set out to scour the country, exploring every recess, and leaving no place on hill or plain únransacked for Dwyer. Yeomanry from Wexford, Carlow, and Kildare were to move on preconcerted points, so as to intercept the fugitive, if he attempted to shift his quarters to a distance. A day was wholly spent in a most fatiguing march. It appeared as if Dwyer had transformed himself into a bird, and flown beyond their reach or sight. All their arrangements and exertions were vain. In a short time Mr. Hume received an intimation that if Dwyer would be permitted to leave the country, he would surrender. With the assent of the government, Mr. Hume acceded to this offer. Dwyer came to Humewood, but its proprietor was in Dublin, whither Dwyer proceeded. He had scarcely reached the city when he was arrested and brought before "The Major." When Sirr heard Dwyer's statement, that he had followed Mr. Hume to Dublin, for the purpose of surrendering, he directed a communication to be addressed to that gentleman, but, meanwhile, he sent Dwyer to Newgate. On the following day Mr. Hume was with the prisoner at an early hour, assured him that he should obtain a speedy release, and that he should suffer no annoyance whilst preparing for a voyage to America. The governor of the prison was then called for, and Mr. Hume requested him to provide, at his expense, for Dwyer's immediate comforts. The outlaw was well treated during his short confinement, and expressed, at his departure, his warmest gratitude to Mr. Hume. The latter, in his parting interview, said: "Before we separate for ever, Dwyer, will you tell me how you avoided capture on the day that we scoured the whole country in search of you?" "Sir," replied Dwyer, "I went to Humewood on the previous night, and when the yeos were starting in quest of me, I was looking at them from your hay loft."

The Sessions' House, immediately adjoining the old prison, may be considered as a part of the concern. It is associated with many sad, and some very extraordinary memories. In the early part of the present century, an Aid-de-camp of the then Viceroy was indicted for the larceny of a handsome cane, and also for assaulting a gentleman who owned the cane, and who was, moreover, a Frenchman. The transaction arose in a house of a description unnecessary to be particularised. An affray took place, the Frenchman was kicked down stairs, and lost his cane, which was alleged to have been wrested from him by the Viceregal Aid-deCamp. The charge of larceny was ridiculous, and the grand jury ignored the bill. But the assault could neither be denied nor justified, and the traverser submitted, and was fined ten pounds. It did not cure his propensities for beating Frenchmen, and taking their sticks. On the 21st of June, 1813, he beat Marshal Jourdan at Vittoria, and took his baton; and on the 18th of June, 1815, at Waterloo, he beat the greatest Frenchman that ever lived, Napoleon Bonaparte. The reader can easily guess the name of the former Aid-de-Camp.

When Walker was Recorder of Dublin, his town residence was in Lower Dominick-street. One day a groom, in the service of a Mr. Gresson, was tried for stealing his master's oats. The evidence was most conclusive, for the culprit had been caught in the fact of taking a large bag of oats out of the stable, which was in a lane at the back of the east side of Dominick-street. When the prisoner was convicted, the Recorder addressed him thus

"The sentence of the court is, that you be imprisoned for three calendar months, and at the commencement of your imprisonment you are to be publicly whipped from one end of that lane to the other, and back again; and at the conclusion of your imprisonment, you are to be publicly whipped from one end of that lane, and back again, for I am determined, with God's help, to put a stop to oat-stealing in that lane." His worship's emphatic denunciation of oat-stealing in that lane arose from the circumstance of his own stable being next door to Mr. Gresson's.

The same civic functionary was a great amateur farmer. He had a villa and some acres of land at Mount Tallant, near Harold's-cross, and prided himself on his heavy crops of early hay. On one occasion he entered the court to discharge his judicial duties, and was horrified at hearing from the clerk of the peace that there were upwards of thirty larceny cases to be tried. "Oh! said he, this is shocking. I have four acres of meadow cut, and perhaps it will be spoiled by rain or neglected in my absence. Tell me," he continued in an under tone, “is there any old offender on the calendar ?” "Yes," replied the clerk of the peace, there is Richard Branagan, he has been twice convicted for ripping lead, and he is here now for stripping the gutters of a house in Mary's-abbey."

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Send a turnkey to him," said the Recorder, "with a hint that if he pleads guilty, he shall have a light sentence."

His directions were complied with, and the lead-stealer was put to the bar and arraigned.

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