  JUSTICE in Ireland, as administered by those awful instruments of the law, the omniscient J. P.’s, is a profoundly solemn thing. The high priest of the Jewish sanctuary, the sacred Brahmin of the Buddhist temple, the Sheikh-ul-Islam of the Mohammedan faith, has only about one-tenth the idea of his own stupendous importance that a West British honorary magistrate possesses. They believe themselves to be not only pillars and ornaments of the glorious English Constitution, but its very corner-stones. Therefore, when one of these Olympic deities condescends to unbend to our more humble level, and actually makes a joke, we should be grateful to his Mightiness for letting us know that, great as he is, he is but human after all. Such an incident is worthy of imperishable record, and we eagerly copy the following from an Irish exchange:— “In giving his decision at the Abbeyfeale quarter sessions relative to an alleged insult to a sub-constable, which insult consisted of the defendant’s whistling ‘Harvey Duff,’ the chairman said: ‘There is a difference between a policeman and an ordinary individual. When a policeman is hooted or whistled at, it is the office he holds is held up to contempt. It is not Sub-Constable Snooks [laughter] that is insulted, but it is the office that is held by Snooks.’ [Laughter.]” Who but an Irish J. P. could have emitted from his brilliant intellect that bright sparkle about Snooks? The delicacy and yet the pungency of the wit, added to the simplicity and yet profundity of the reasoning, IF you notice a policeman at the corner of a street In an energetic struggle with a pair of erring feet, A decided inclination to lie down upon his beat, And confusion quite apparent in his looks, An odor floating round him you’d no reason to expect, You have not got the slightest cause to cavil or object; The law is oft mysterious, and, stranger, recollect, ’Tis the law’s inebriated, and not Snooks. A policeman is no ordinary mortal; so suppose It unfortunately happens, as it might do, that there grows A pimple at the end of 27’s Roman nose, Which his dignity but very little brooks. You must not, at your peril, venture carelessly to laugh, And avoid like trichinosis any tendency to chaff, Unless you wish to seek the rude acquaintance of his staff— ’Tis the law that has that pimple, and not Snooks! |
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