Bob Pickering, short, squat, and squinting, with a yellow "wipe" round his "squeeze," was put to the bar on violent suspicion of dog-stealing.
Mr. Davis, Silk-mercer, Dover-street, Piccadilly, said:—About an hour before he entered the office, while sitting in his parlor, he heard a loud barking noise, which he was convinced was made by a favorite little dog, his property. He went out, and in the passage caught the prisoner in the act of conveying it into the street in his arms.
Mr. Dyer: What have you to say? You are charged with attempting to steal the dog.
Prisoner: (affecting a look of astonishment)—Vot, me steal a dog? Vy, I'm ready and villing to take my solomon hoth 'at I'm hinnocent of sitch an hadwenture. Here's the factotal of the consarn as I'm a honest man. I vos a coming along Hoxfud-street, ven I seed this here poor dumb hanimal a running about vith not nobody arter him, and a looking jest as if he vas complete lost. Vhile I vos in this here sittivation, a perfect gentleman comes up to me, and says he, "Vot a cussed shame," says he, "that 'ere handsome young dog should be vithout a nateral pertectur! I'm blow'd, young man," says he, "if I vos you if I vouldn't pick it up and prewent the wehicles from a hurting on it; and," says he, "I'd adwise you, 'cause you looks so werry honest and so werry respectable, to take pity on the poor dumb dog and go and buy it a ha'porth of wittles." Vell, my lord, you see I naterally complied vith his demand, and vos valking avay vith it for to look for a prime bit of bowwow grub, ven up comes this here good gentleman, and vants to swear as how I vos arter prigging on it!
Mr. Dyer: How do you get your living?
Prisoner: Vorks along vith my father and mother—and lives vith my relations wot's perticler respectable.
Mr. Dyer: Policeman, do you know anything of the prisoner?
Policeman: The prisoner's three brothers were transported last session, and his mother and father are now in Clerkenwell. The prisoner has been a dog-stealer for years.
Prisoner: Take care vot you say—if you proves your vords, vy my carrecter vill be hingered, and I'm blowed if you shan't get a "little vun in" ven I comes out of quod.
Mr. Dyer: What is the worth of the dog?
Mr. Davis: It is worth five pounds, as it is of a valuable breed.
Prisoner: There, your vership, you hear it's a waluable dog—now is it feasible as I should go for to prig a dog wot was a waluable hanimal?
The magistrate appeared to think such an occurrence not at all unlikely, as he committed him to prison for three months.
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