nd fury to the vengeance which smouldered
within them.

This closed the case for Captain Right, and the judge asked if there was
any one present prepared with a defense for Mat Pur-eel and his sons.

Our old friend, Darby Hourigan, who dressed himself in rags for the
occasion, then came forward; and, after pulling up the waistband of his
breeches, and twisting his revolting features into what he designed
for, but what no earthly being could suppose, a grin, he spoke as
follows:--"My lard, an' gintlemen o' the jury, it 'ud be a hard case
if we suffered poor Misther Purcel and his two daicent, ginerous,
kind-hearted sons, to be condimed 'idout a word at all in their definse.
First, then, is it fair that we should be angry bekaise one of our own
race and rallagion should spring up from among ourselves, and take his
station over us like the Cromwellian shoneens, that are doin' oppression
upon uz and our shildres! An', hadn't he as good a right to get the
law at his back as they have? an' to make it bring him through the same
hard-hearted coorses that made him rich and keep us poor? What had he
done but what others had been doin' for ages, an' wor doin' still? ay,
by jabers, an' 'ud continue to do unless the people put a stop to it.
Worn't his sons gintlemen no less? Didn't they go out to hunt dressed
in top-boots, buck-skin breeches, scarlet coats, and velvet jockey-caps;
and didn't his daughters ride about upon blood-horses an' side-saddles?
An' why are they called blood-horses do yez know? Ah, by jabers, if yez
don't I'll tell you--it's bekaise they wor bought and maintained by the
blood of the poor? Ay, they do all this, but if they do, who's to blame
them? Poor! ershisin! Arra what was I sayin'? Sure they do it bekaise
we all have plenty to ait and dhrink, plenty to wear; good coats to our
backs, like this"--and here he shook the rags he dangled about him in
hundreds; "good breeches to--hem--no matther--good shoes and stockings
to our feet; good heads to our hats--hut! I mane good hats to our
heads--and fusht-rate linen to our shkins; ay--sich as this," he added
again. "Whisht!" he exclaimed, with a laugh like an Eclipse, "bad
luck to the fatther of it, but I forgot at home--along wid the other
eleven--or stop--here it is to the good still," pointing to his naked
skin, "an' be my sowl, boys--my lard an' gintlemen o' the jury, I
mane--it's the weavor of this linen that'll stand to us yet.

"Gintlemin, I do maintain tha