Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser., 1849-05-24
From the Maryland Republican.

week to conjure up any thing worth room
in your columns, send you the trial Of
Edward Merlin, which came off some ten or
twelve years ago in one Of our large east
ern cities, and accurately reported expressly
for one Of the New Y York periodicals. A
natural poe,ical talent being gift which is
conferred upon but few Of the human fami-
| ly, see no reason why Merlin's effusions
should not be cherished with other immor-
tai rhymers whose verses, as lasting as let
ters Of gold upon tablets of everlasting
marble, are handed down from generation to
generation -
"Edward Merlin, was charged with being
and it was also intimaed by the complain
ant that Ned was, in all probability, little
cracked. Mr.. Merlin was considerably out
Of the knees and elbows, and his shirt SEEM
ed as if it might be the identical two nap
kins, sown together, which belonged 10 the
second most fortunate Of Sir John Falstaff's
country troopers. In short, Edward Ner-
lin appeared TO be regular loafer with the
sole exception, that his tongue went like
perpetual motion, whereas it is one of the
pecularites of the fraternity that they are
too lazy to talk. The most interesting fea-
iure of Mr.. Merlin's character is, that he is
a poet, and that too, Of SO unadulterated
complexion, that whatever he says runs into
rhyme as naturally as if it was bespoke and
paid for at penny line.
Mrs. Donovan, the complainant, is little
Irish woman, who keeps one of these 'hole-
in-lhe-wall' shan,ies, VI here they purport to
sell the best of good liquors a, three cents
glass; and it appeared in evidence that Mr..
Merlin had done every justice TO her 'best
of good liquors. but had ventured no fur
ther in her favor for when she began to
remind him Of the 'three cents glass par,
of the ceremony, he went into blaze of in
dgnation, and let the arrows of his wrath
fly around him like feu de joie of Con-
greve rockets.
'Faix, you honor,' continued Mrs. Dono-
van, at the conclusion Of long drawnoul
story of her woes, he dhrank my brandy
with as little compuncton as if it was no.
thing but ditch wa,her, for the diyil sup
Prrr u ucnIuu nInI sb
sarve another customer
.Magislrate.--Did he take it by force !?
Mrs Donouan-.Musha no, your honor,
but he went on like play aclher until ]
thought he was raisin the divil, and bad
win to me, if wasn't aleard to say sim
gle word until the sorra dhrop was lef.
in the bottle. In lhroth, your honor, if he's
not witch or divi, or something in that
| line, | think he must be out of his seven
senses.
.Mag.-Merin, what have you to say to
! this business
.Nerlin.-t say, my lord, as quick as winking,
The liquor was not worth the drinking;
And charge the hog have my eyes on
For selling drugs that worse than poison.
Mrs. D.-Thal's the way he wint on
whn he was drinking up all me beautiful
brandy widou, payin for it your honor
Jaizes, you blackguard, if you call me a
hog agin, l'll smash your ugly nuns into
smi,hereens.
.Ner.-Beware, good woman, say not SO,
| And we'll be friends before we go;
| Though much fear your liquor horrid,
| Will bore hole out through my forehead.
Mrs. D.-The divil mind you or any bo-
dy that spaiks in such outlandish language
as that. Your honor, dear, do you think
he gifts it all out of book, or is it cracked
with larning he is j?
.Mag.-He's either fool or rogue
Merlin, answer me plainly what are you!
.Mer.-A man, my lord, from hat to shoe;
Flesh, blood, and bones the same as you.
.Mag.-I mean, what's your business /?
.Mer.-My busness-bah-I scorn the name;
My business is to seek for fame;
The MUSES., sir, are my delight,
Woo them all from morn to night.
Come, sweet Urania, heavenly maid,
Oh come to thine own Alerns aid.
.Mag-No humbugging, sir, how do you
get your bread?
.Mer.-My Bread sir-oh my answers ripe;
live on suction like snipe,
mean a woodcock but you know,
The rhyme says snipe SO let 1t go.
.Mag-Give over rhyming, sir, and tell
me plainly where do you live:
.Mer.-When the sun is bright and hot,
All around seek my lot.
Loling in sequestial nook,
Listening to the babbling brook;
Or, scorning blanket, sheet rug,
Snoozing in the Park so snug,
But in cold weather, tits my plan
To live, my lord, where best can,
.Mag.-Hang you, you rascal speak in
prose.
.Mer-I will my lord. By all the gods,
I meant no harm but where's the odds.
Oh, best Urana, come along,
And give my lord soul for song.
Mrs. D.-The Lord help the poor era
ther, but believe he wants a s.hrat waist
coat worse nor my brandy. Your honor,