The Sumter banner. [volume] (Sumterville, S.C.) 1846-1855, 1849-10-10
An Improvisator,I


Cross street; aud il was also Rintimated
sby the complainant that Ned was in all
probability q little cracked. Mr.. Mer-
\ lin was considerably out at the knees
and elbows, and his shirt seemed as if
1T might be the Identical two napkins,
ssewed together, which belonged to the
second most fortunate of Sir John Fal.
statf's country troopers. In short, Ned.
Merlin appeared to be a regular loafer
from his pimple cover, to his shanks
mares, with the sole exception, that his
tongue went like perpetual motion,
whereas it is one Of the peculiarities Of
the fraternity that they are too law to
talk. The most interesting feature,
however, of Mr.. Mcrlin's character is
that he's a poet and that too of SO un.
adulterated q complexion, that whatey.
er ne says runs into rhyme as naturally
as ifit was bespoke and paid for at a
/ penny line.
Mrs. Donovan, the complainant, is a
little Irish woman, who keeps one of
those 'holo in the wall shanties, where
they purport to sell 'thc best of good
liquors, at three cents a glass; and it
appeared in evidence chat Mr.. Merlin
had done every justice TO her 'best of
good liquors'--but had vcntured no far
thor in her favor, for when she began
toremind him of the three cents o glass
part of the ceremony, he went into a
blaze of Indignation, and let the arrows
OF his wrath fly around him like fen
de 1olc OF congrcvc rockets.
'Faix you honor continued Mrs.
Donovan at the conclusion of n lonc.
drawn-out story other woes, shc drunk
me brandy wild as little compnnction as
II 1t was nothin' but ditch wather. for
the devil sup ov a pint an q half he
lett behind him to serve another custo.
mer.'
Magistrate Did he take it by force?
Mrs. Donovan -Musha, no, your
honor, but he wint on like play acther
until | thought he was raisin' the devil
and bad win to NE if I wasn't afearcd
to say single word until the sorra a
da'op was left in the bottle. In truth.
your honor,'if he's not a witch-or a
devll-or something in that line. !
thlhk nc must be out ov his seven SEN
ses.
Magistrate-Merlin, have you any.
thing to say to this business I?
Merlin
say my lord, as quick as winknr,
The liquor was not worth the drinking;
And charge the hog l have my eyes on
With selling drugs that's worse than pison.
Mrs. Donovan-That's the way he
wint on whin he was drinking up all
me beautiful brandy widout pawn for it,
yer honor. Jaiziz, you blaguard, if you
call me o hog again, I'll smash your
ugly mug into smishereens.
Meriin--
Hcware, good woman, say not so,
And we'll be friends, before we 90;
Though much fear your liquor horrid,
VIII bore hole out through my forehead
Mrs. Donovan--Thc divil minds YOU
or any body that spaiks in such an out
landish language as that. Your honor,
dear, do you think he cit it all out ov
boog, or is it cracked wid larnin he
is?
Maglstrate--IIc's either fool or a
rougue. Merlin answer me plainly,
what are you?
Merlin
man, my lord, from hat to shoe:
Flesh, blood and bonos, the same as YOU.
Maslstrate-l mean, what's your
business?
Merlin
My buslness-bah-I scorn the name,
My business is to seek for fame;
The muses., sir, are my delight;
WOO them all from morn iill night:
Come, sweet Urnnia, heavenly maid,
Oh come 10 thine own Mern's aid
Maglstratc--No hum|nugins, sir,
how do you get your bread
Merlin
My bread sir Oh my answers ripe
1.-Two on suction like n snipc,
lmean woodcock, but you know
The rhyme says snlpe, SO lot il 90.
Magistratc-Give overrh yming, sir,
and tell me plainly where do you live?
Merlin
When the sun is bright and hot,
All around seek my lot,
lolling in seques'ered nook,
Listening to the bahhIing brook,
Or, scorning blanket, shcot or rug,
Snoozng in the Park, so snug;
But in cold weather It's my plan
TO live, my lord, where bost ! can
Magissrate-llang you, you rascal,
speak in prose.
Merlin
will, my lord--by all the gods.
meant no harm, but where's the odds.
o blcst Urania, come along,
And give my lord soul for song.
Mrs. Donovan-Lord help the poor
craythur but believe he wants a
sthralt waiscoat wrosc nor my brandy.
Your honor darint, I'll forgive him the