THE CONNAUGHT JOURNAL
Galway, September 13, 1824
HEAD POLICE OFFICE - DUBLIN
Posting a Woman
On Friday, Miss Kitty M'Cann, a young, tall, raw-boned, masculine,
sallow, draggle-tailed, shipshod female, from Bishop-street, accompanied by
her Mamma, applied at this office for a summons against a Mr. Bill Lynch.
When asked what he had done, she lowered her head, which stood near six feet
from her shoes, and bending a pair of eyes to the earth which boasted of the
variety and ubiquity of a squint, twisted the corner of her pin-a-fore this
way and then that way, and answered, "Sir, he has posted me;" "Posted you!
what! for a coward?" "No, Sir," (with a masculine accent, and after some
hesitation) "but he has posted me against gates, corners of streets, lanes,
and alleys." "How did he post you?" - "He posted my name up and down!" "in
what manner did he come in labial contract?" "Sir." "Did he assault you?"
"Oh no, Sir; he dare not do that; and she raised an arm, to which was
appended a (we were going to say, fist, but female delicacy forbids it;)
well, she raised her clenched hand, and with an air of a Boadicia, a smile
of defiance, and a significant shake of the head, repeated, "Oh no, he dare
not do that." "There are several Long Kittys in Dublin, that's no libel."
"Isn't it, Sir? but I think it is a lie, and a bull, too, so it is, to write
me up Long Kitty, Kitty, Loney, Kitty, against every corner, and I'll have
revenge, so I will, I'll have the satisfaction of getting Mr. Billy well
kicked." She then walked off with the air of a piece of frailty that could
undertake the task of kicking Mr. Lynch herself.
A Da Capo of the scene, wherein long Kitty M'Can made so conspicuous a
figure on Friday last, took place this day. Miss Kitty retired from the
Office on Friday, declaring she would get Mister Billy Lynch exceedingly
well kicked, and literally undertook to amuse herself in that way on Sunday
in Bishop-street. She and her sister, a pretty looking young girl, in a
nankeen spencer, stepped forward to answer the charge, and so did Mister
Lynch, but it was to advance it.
Mister Lynch, truth to say, was the very opposite long Kitty in
altitude, energy, masculine power, or tact of speech; he was a short,
shambling, shabbily-dressed, Taylor or Tinker's apprentice, from whose
visage the hue of hard work and a dirty residence, had not been removed with
much industry for many weeks. He roundly accused Kitty with having "kicked
up a Row Royal" in Bishop-street last Sunday; with having kicked, coffed,
spit on, and scratched him on that day, as she said he had posted, pasted
and daubed the walls and posts with libels on her name and fame. He denied
having done either.
Miss Kitty recapitulated this charge and said her witness would prove
The worthy Magistrate asked why he had posted her name up?
Kitty said he was a most ungrateful monster; that she had been too kind
to him, and it was all through spite, having been rejected as a suitor by
The Sister, in the nankeen, corroborated the statement; which the
Magistrate thought creditable, observing the sheep's eye Mister Lynch was
throwing over his shoulder at the fair one who scorned his love, and who,
gathering resolution, said she would indict him for defamation; for having
said that she had got her nankeen pelisse and her Leghorn out of a ______.
The remainder of the sentence was lost to posterity; for at the moment
she arrived at the "a" - long Kitty pulled her by the arm, appearing
inclined to take the Magistrate's advice, and make up all differences.
The parties withdrew without further parlance.
A dapper little soubrette in a frize requelaure, appeared with anger in
her eyes, unmitigated resentment on her lips, and with the indignant glance
of frigid chastity, accused a man with having wickedly dared to assault her.
The accused - she never could have fancied such a man - was passing
tall, passing thin, passing ungraceful and surpassingly ugly. He was the
very opposite of the Apollo of Beluidere, and had transcended the grand
climacteric; his countenance bore the cadavered hue of wounded pride and
unrequited affection; to render it still more void of expression, one eye
had vanished, but whether in the celestial or terrestrial warfare cannot be
The name of the female was Mistress Juliet O'Brien. The defendant was
Mister Archibald Macculloughmore, Kevin-street, ci-devant of Aherdeensire,
and possessed not, as appeared by the Lady's tale, either the discernment or
the prudence of the most North Britains. They entered the board room in high
altercation - "It's a lie," said Archibald, "gung your gate, it's nature." -
The enraged Juliet stepped forward, but not "on Love's light wings," and
removing the hood of her roquelaure, detailed the assault which she said
Archie had made, with intent, as she thought, to become too interesting."
She repelled the ungracious Romeo's advances, and an altercation ensued:
Archibald, screwing up his mouth at this accusation, looked round the board
room for witness to contradict this charge, but none appeared. He then said,
"Please you, my Lord, she's an abusive wee thing, she quarrelled with me for
religions; for keeping me ain creed, and called me "Antichrist!"
"What!" called you Antichrist?" asked the astonished Magistrate;
Archibald thought this would tarn the tables on his accuser, and
"Yes, your Warship, she did call me mair than that for she called me -
a bloody old Antichrist!"
The parties were dismissed, with a recommendation to cultivate amity
and avoid using nicknames.
Cathy Joynt Labath
Ireland Old News