mouldin' an' no wurrud comes fr'm th' coort iv appeals but th'
murmur iv th' chief justice discussin' th' nullification theery.
But wan day, th' decision is wafted down. 'Th' coort finds,' it
says, 'that th' vardict was conthry to th' law an' th' ividince.
We seen this fr'm th' first. It's as plain as th' nose on ye'er
face. Th' judge was prejudiced an' th' jury was ignorant. Th'
ividince wasn't sufficient to hang a cat. We revarse th' decision
an' ordher a new thrile that full justice may be done. We cannot
help remarkin' at this time on th' croolty iv subjectin' this
unforchnit man to all these years iv torture an' imprisonment with
a case again' him which we see at a glance durin' th' Mexican war
cud not shtand th' test iv th' law.'

"But whin th' decision is carried to th' pris'ner, th' warden says
'Who?' 'P. Cyanide,' says th' clark iv th' coort. 'He's not here,'
says th' warden. 'On consultin' me books, I find a man iv that
name left in th' year sivinty-wan.' 'Did he escape?' 'In a sinse.
He's dead.'

"So, Hinnissy, I'd like to be a judge iv a high coort, dhreamin'
th' happy hours away. No hurry, no sthrivin' afther immejet
raysults, no sprintin', no wan hollenin' 'Dooley J. hurry up with
that ne exeat,' or 'Dooley, hand down that opinyion befure th'
batthry gives out.' 'Tis th' thrue life iv aise an' gintlemanly
comfort. 'Tis wait till th' clouds rowl by; 'tis time was meant
for slaves; 'tis a long life an' a happy wan. Like th' Shamrock
II, th' coort acts well in stays but can't run befure th' wind.
A jury is f'r hangin' ivry man, but th' high coort says: 'Ye must
die, but take ye'er time about it an' go out th' way ye like.' If
I wanted to keep me money so that me gran'childher might get it