The weekly Minnesotian. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1852-1858, 1855-08-25
G1- We take the following clever sketch
from the police reports In the New HorkFri


from the police reports in the New YorkFri
bune - W sas ssss.s 's'ss $50 ss4EY1
shakespeare Run Kad---Tmprovemenss on shS
Immortal Hard---Collier behind the Age
Peter Knight was found wandering in the
Fourteenth Ward. The officer could not deter
mine whether he was intoxicated or crazy, but
as he said he had no home. he was taken in
charge as vagrant He had been traversing
the streets, with folded arms, talking to him
self odd bits of plays and poems. He possess
cd a facility of quotation equal to Richard
Swive'lcr, Esq, but he was as reckless ABOUT
the exactitude of his extracts, and yumblea up
his authorities with as much confusion as Capt
Cutie himself lie seldom gave quotation
right, but would break of in the middle ana
substitute some words of his own, or dovetaiil III
an prevalent piece from some Stra"?e "u'noi
or mix nm balEa dozen authors Win interpoia-
| tions of his OWN, IN an ineA'iio"''S9 WI va
| tumble. ~ 80
| Clerk--Whatis your name!
Prisoner--"Petcr Knight am native to
the manorborn--that's Shakespeare. r,
CIerk--Was youintoxicated yesterday s}U
Prisoner-"Tis trne, It's pity ;,p:ty tis there
isn't the devil doubt of it''--that's Scott.
Clcrk--Where did you get your liquor? s
Prisoncr--:'Where the bee sucks there sucks
Peter knight all day. Thou base, inglorous
slave, thinks't thou 1 will reveal the noble
name OF him who gave me wine, No Stree,
BOb"--that's Beaumont and Fletcher. -
Officer in whisper-If you don't tell youl
have to so to Jail. fi'r u -,.qr j-ir .uc...
Prisoner do remember an apothecary and
hereabouts. be dwells-no be don't. he lives over
in the Boweiy-but in his needy hop a Goldfish
hangs, and OIL his shelves IL beggarly account
ofempty bottles; noting this penury to myself
| said If any man did need brandy punch,
whose sale is fifty dollars fine in Gotham, here
lives caitiffwretch wi o has probably got pier
ty OF it under the counter. Why should here
conceal my fault? Wine no! Icried. The call
was answered. have no wine. said he, but
plenty of whs-. Silence thou pernicieus
caitiff, quoth | tEou Invisible spirit of wine,
since we can get thee by no other name, why
let US call thee gin and sugar. He brought the
juice OF cursed juniper in phial, and in the
porchcs of my throat did pour Udolpho Wolfc's
distillment. Thus was by a Dutchman IS hand
at once dispatched-not drunk nor sober, sent
into this dirty Station-IIousc three quarters
tight, with all my imperfections on my head.
The fellows name? My very soul rebels. But
whether it is nOblcr in my mind to suffer the
cuffs and bruises of this bloody Dutchman or to
take arms against his rcd-baircd highncss. and
by informing end him? l go and it is done.
Villain, here's at thy heart! His name, your
Honor, is BobblesnoGkin in the Bowery.
That's Shakespeare mixed.
Clerk-Ilave you got home?
Prisoncr-My home is on the deep, deep sea-
that's Pluta chs Lives. 0i
Cerk-How do you get your living?
Prisoner--DOubt thou the stars are fire;
doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to
be liar. but never doubt that I'll get living
while the oyster sloops don't have but one
watchman--that's Billy S. again. So
Clerk-Do you pay for your oysters?
PrisOner--Base is the slave that pays; the
speed Of thought is in my limbs-that's Byron.
Clerk-Do you steal them and then run
away?
Prisoncr--I'vc told thee all, I'll tell no more,
though short the story be !; let me 60 back
where was before and I'll get my living with
out troubling the orporation-That's Tom
Moore, altered TO suit circumstances.
Justice (cvdcntly at a loss, in a whistler to
mystifcd clcrk)--I think he's crazy what do
you think it's best to do with him?
Prisoner (ovcrhearing)-'OT with his head;
so much"-that's Shakespeare curtalcd.
Justice-Will you promise to dispense with
the brandy and gin if you are discharged?
Prisoner-O, could be happy with either
were 'tothcr dear charmcr bottled up and the
cork put in-that's Dibdin, with vengeance
Judgc-What do you suppose will become
OF you if you so on in this way, living as you
have done?
Prisoner-Alas. poor Yorick Peter,
mean. Who knows where he will lay his bones?
Few and short will the prayers be said, and no.
bOdy'll feel any sorrow but they will
him into his clay cold bed, and bury somebody
else on top of him tomorrow the minister
will come, put on his robe and read the scr.
vice; the choir'll sing hymn earth to earth
and dust to gravel, and thatll be the last of
Peter Knight.
Clerk--Pcter. We'll have to send you up for
ten days.
Prisoncr-Farc thee we'll, and if for ever all
the better. That's Byron: revised and correct
ed.