huge bags, fidgetted about rapidly, or stood up in their seats,
telegraphing others in different parts of the Court.

"There's old Kemmis," as they caught a glimpse of the Crown agent;
"he's the boy that doctored the jury list. Fancy, a jury chosen out of
all Dublin, and not one Catholic! As if that could be fair!" And then
he named the different judges. "Look at that big-headed, pig-faced
fellow on the right--that's Pennefather! He's the blackest sheep of the
lot--and the head of them! He's a thoroughbred Tory, and as fit to be a
judge as I am to be a general. That queer little fellow, with the long
chin, he's Burton--he's a hundred if he's a day--he was fifty when he
was called, seventy when they benched him, and I'm sure he's a judge
thirty years! But he's the sharpest chap of the whole twelve, and no
end of a boy afther the girls. If you only saw him walking in his
robes--I'm sure he's not three feet high! That next, with the skinny
neck, he's Crampton--he's one of Father Mathews lads, an out and out
teetotaller, and he looks it; he's a desperate cross fellow, sometimes!
The other one, you can't see, he's Perrin. There, he's leaning
over--you can just catch the side of his face--he's Perrin. It's he'll
acquit the traversers av' anything does--he's a fair fellow, is Perrin,
and not a red-hot thorough-going Tory like the rest of 'em."

Here John was obliged to give over the instruction of his brother,
being enjoined so to do by one of the heavy-hatted policemen in his
front, who enforced his commands for silence, with a backward shove of
his wooden truncheon, which came with rather unnecessary violence
against the pit of John's stomach.

The fear of being turned out made him for the nonce refrain from that
vengeance of abuse which his education as a Dublin Jackeen well