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!! Connaught Journal; Sep 13, 1824; Police Office - Dublin

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  • Cathy Joynt Labath
    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,
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      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.

      TUESDAY.
      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
      it.
      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
      her sister.
      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.

      ANTICHRIST
      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
      declared.
      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;
      Antichrist?
      Archibald thought this would tarn the tables on his accuser, and
      vociferated-
      "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
      http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/
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