Now, you know a horse-whippin' 'ud make a man repint goin' to him, an' when a man's in a repintin' state, he may as well repint for whatever sins he has committed, while his hand's in.
"Altogether, thin, my lard an' gintlemin o' the jury, I think it's clear that Purcel an' his sons is a great benefit to the counthry about us, an' that they ought to be acquitted, especially as it's likely that they have more processes to sarve, more auctions to hould an' may be, more widow's sons to take on the hands of their poor strugglin' motherss the crathurs, that's badly able to support them; and anyhow, nobody can blame a man'll that opens the gates of heaven for his fellow creature's sowl, and sends him there.
"I hope, my lard an' gintlemen, that I has now done my duty in defendin' the Purcels and that I've proved to your satisfaction that they ought to be acquitted." This harangue of Hourigan's was received with singular alternations of fierce rage, and mirth that was still fiercer and more frightful.

At the conclusion of it there was a loud stamping of feet, accompanied by an exulting uproar of approbation.

Silence, however, being called, the jurors put their heads together across the table, and in less than two minutes their foreman handed up the issue paper to a person who acted as register and secretary to the meeting.

On receipt of this, that worthy functionary, in a solemn, deep, and barely audible voice, read a verdict of "guilty," which was received in solemn silence by the assembly.
The judge then rose, and in a voice that was also solemn but distinct, pronounced the sentence of the court to be--"Death and dark destruction to Matthew Purcel and his sons," with an order that it should be carried into execution on that very night.

The judge then addressed them at some length, pretty closely to the following effect: "Now, my friends," said he, "there is no man in this building who has not before now been engaged in affairs of danger and of death.