THE WEDDING RING.

Mrs. Catherine Casey was charged with having purloined Mrs. Judith O'Leary's wedding ring.

The ladies are both natives of "the Emerald gem of the western world"—the green land of shamrocks and shilelaghs. They came to this country together in the days of their youth; they toiled together year after year in the sunny harvest fields; they got comfortable husbands to them; they grew old together; they ate, they drank, they smoked together; they were gossips—"sworn gossips and friends." "But what is friendship but a name!" saith the poet.—Let Mrs. Judith O'Leary tell her own tale.

"Yer honour, this is Misthress Casey—the gossip she was to me many a long year in ould Ireland and since we comed to this; and much is it I made of her at all times, your honour—for we got our bits o' livings, and we ate, and slept, and we drink't together"—

"And got drunk together," said his worship.

"Faith did we, your honour—and wonst too often;" rejoined Mrs. Judith O'Leary, making an illigant curt'sy. "T'other day, your honour, we were taking the drops at the Blue Pig, and talking of the ould consarns, and the talk came up, and the drops went down softly and swately—that's the throats of us, your honour; and by-and-by, says Misthress Casey to me, says she—'Misthress O'Leary,' says she to me, 'let's be home to our own place.'—'And so I will, Misthress Casey,' says I—'ounly we'll have t'other drop with the three halfpence that's left in the bottom of it,'—that's the pocket your honour. 'Gad's blood, we'll have t'other drop, gossip,' says I to her. And sure we had, and it was a drop too much for the head of me—it went round like the hind wheel of an ackney—rowling and rowling, your honour, and I rowl'd home mighty queer that day; and I laid meself down on my own bed; and the child I had be my own lawful husband, Tom Leary, laid be the side of me fast asleep—ounly sober as a judge was the child at that same time—why shouldn't it? And when I waked up, says I to me—'how comed I here,' says I, 'in my own bed,' says I, 'before dark?' says I to myself; but I couldn't tell, for the life of me, your honour, in regard of the gin—that's the blue ruin, as Misther Jenkins the pratur marchant calls it, your honour. 'Well,' says I to meself, 'sure I'll get up,' says I, 'for what's the use of lying here like a baste,' says I, 'when Tom Leary isn't in it, and is coming to it may be?' And I got up and shook meself, and got the water to wash my hands, and I looked at 'em—that's the fingers, but d—l a ring was on 'em! 'Deevle burn ye, Kate Casey,' thinks I to myself, 'but ye've got the bit of gould from me at last!' and I went to her place—that's in Bainbridge-street, your honour; 'and Misthress Casey,' says I, 'where's me ring?' 'What ring?' says she.—'My wedding ring that I got with Tom Leary,' says I.—'Deevle a know I know!' says she.—'Don't be tellin the lie to the face of me,' says I, 'for sure there's them that seen ye slither it off the finger of me,' says I.—'Be the mother of Moses! it's a graat lie!' says she.—'Thank ye, Misthress Casey,' says I.—'Take that for yerself, Mrs. O'Leary,' says she"—

"And what was that?" asked his worship.

"Faith, a beautiful blow on the mouth of me!" your honour, replied Mrs. O'Leary—laying hold of her upper lip, and turning it inside out for his worship's inspection.

But his worship declined inspecting it; and Mrs. O'Leary, having let her lip down again, proceeded to state that, having got this beautiful thump on the mouth of her, she did not choose to have any more to say to Mrs. Casey, but forthwith handed her over to an officer.

The Officer in question said he had learned that Mrs. Casey pawned a wedding ring on the day of the row, but she redeemed it in a few hours afterwards, and that was all the pawnbroker knew about it.

Whilst Mrs. O'Leary was telling her story, Mrs. Casey could hardly be restrained from opening upon her at almost every sentence. She seemed to be bursting with words; and, no doubt, it was a great relief to her when his worship at length gave her leave to speak by asking, "Where is this poor woman's ring?"

"Honour bright! your worship," replied Mrs. Casey, in a voice as melodious as a cracked bagpipe—"Honour bright! your worship; deevle's the bit I knows about it at all! Och! Mrs. O'Leary, but yer a bad one after all of it," &c. "You knows you'll say any thing but your prayers, Mrs. O'Leary, and meself never to find it out till this present time!—Your worship, she gived the ring to a man she has!"

"Och! an is it the likes of me, with three childer and Tom Leary!" cried Mrs. O'Leary, lifting up her hands and eyes in astonishment at the scandal.

Mrs. Casey persisted in her story, and at last the charge was dismissed for want of evidence.—In ten minutes after, they were seen together at "The Grapes," in Bow-street, taking their drops, as good friends as ever they were.