The Irish haymaker now stepped forward, and, with a peculiar twist of the
hips and shoulders, which those only who have seen it can picture to
themselves, said, "Plase your honour's honour, I have a little word to
say too about the dog."

"Say it, then," said Mr. Marshal.

"Plase your honour, if I might expect to be forgiven, and let off for
pulling down the jontleman's stack, I might be able to tell him what I
know about the dog."

"If you can tell me anything about my dog," said the tanner, "I will
freely forgive you for pulling down the rick: especially as you have
built it up again. Speak the truth, now: did not O'Neill make away with
the dog?"

"Not at all, at all, plase your honour," replied the haymaker: "and the
truth of the matter is, I know nothing of the dog, good or bad; but I
know something of his collar, if your name, plase your honour, is Hill,
as I take it to be."

"My name is Hill: proceed," said the tanner, with great eagerness. "You
know something about the collar of my dog Jowler?"

"Plase your honour, this much I know, any way, that it is now, or was the
night before last, at the pawnbroker's there, below in town; for, plase
your honour, I was sent late at night (that night that Mr. O'Neill, long
life to him! was arrested) to the pawnbroker's for a Jew by Mrs. O'Neill,
poor creature! She was in great trouble that same time."