The Bedford gazette. [volume] (Bedford, Pa.) 1805-current, 1858-06-25
AN IMPROVISaT0RE.

vas also InlInated Oy the COiI pidlndHt tIidt -"
was in all probability little cracked. Mr.
Merlin was considerably out at the knees and
eltows anG his shirt seemed as ift might be the
identical two napkins, sowed together, winch
belonged to the second most fortunate of Sir
John Falstali's country troopers. In short,
Mr.. Merlin appeared to be a regular loater
from his pimple cover 10 his shanks mares, with
this sole exception that his tongue went like
perpetual motion, whereas ii is one Of the
ppcuIarities Of the fraternity that they are
too lazy to talk. The most interesting feature,
however, of Mr. Merlin's character is, that be
is 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 a line.
Mrs. Donovan, the complainant is little IIsh-
woman, who keeps one of those "hole in the
wall'' shanties where they purport TO sell 'fhe
best OF good liquors, at three cents a glass,
and 1t appeared in evidence that Mr.. Merlin
had done every Justice to her "best of good h
quors"-bu had ventured no farther in her
favor, for when she began to remind him OF the
''lhree cents glass part of the ceremony, be
went into blaze OF Indignation, and let the
arrows of his wrath fly around him like tea
ne joie OF Congreve rockets, IN Clancy.
''Faix, yer Honor" continued Mrs. Donovan
at the conclusion Of long drawn story of her
woes, che dhrunk me brandy wild as little COM
junction as lift was nothin' but 50 much wather,
for the divil sup ov pint an nail he left
behind TO Sarve another customer"
Magistrate.-Did he take il by force
Mrs. Donovan. -Musha, no your honor, but
he wlnt on like play acther until | tho't b
was raSin the dviI, bad win to me if | wasn't
afeard TO say single word until the sorfa
dhrop was left in the bottle. In thruth, yer
honor, if he's not witch-or divil, or some
thing in that line, l think he must be out Of his
seven senses.
Magstrate.-Merlin, what have you 10 say
TO this business
Merlin
I say my lord, as qnick as winking,
The liquor was not worth the drinking
And charge the hog have my eyes on
With selling drugs that's worse than poison
Mrs Donovan-That's the way he wint on
when he was dhrinkn' up all me beautiful bran
dy without payn' for IT, yer honor. Jaizez,
you backguard, if you call mpa hog agia I'll
SMASH your ugty mtg mo sffIiinefeeffs.zS1 y
Merlin.-
Beware, good woman, say not so,
And Wen be friends, before we 30
Though much fear your liquor horrid
viii bore a hole out through my forehead.
Mrs. Donoyan.-The divil mind you, or any
thing that spakes in such an outlandish language
as that. Your honor, dear, do you think he git
it all out ov book, or IS it cracked wild larnn'
he is
AIagistrate.-He is either fool or rogue
Merlin, answer me plainly, what are you?
Merlin
A man, my lord from hat 10 shoe.
Flesh blood. and bones. he same al Won,
Magistrate.-I mean, what's your business
Merlin
My business. Bah I scorn the name,
My business isto seek tor fame
The muses. sir, my delight;
WOO them all from till night.
Come, sweet Urana, heavenly maid,
Oh, come 10 thine own MerlIn's aid.
Magistrate humbugging sir how do
you get your bread
Merlin
Ny bread, sir. Oh my answers ripe,
live on suction like a snipe-
| mean a woodcock-but You know
The rhyme says snpe, so let it so.
Magislratc.-G over rhyming, sir, and tell
me plainly, where do you live
Merlin.
When the sun is bright and hot.
All around | seek my lot,
Loing in sequestered nook,
Listening to the babbling brook.
Or, scornins blanket, sheet rug,
! Snoozing in the Park snug;
But in cold weather 'tis my plan
| To live, my lord, where best can.
| Magistrate.-Hang you, rascal speak in
| prose.
Merlin
| | will, my lord-by all the gods,
| meant no harm, but where's the odds
O biest Urania, come along,
And give my lord a soul for song.
| Mrs. Donovan.-The Lord help the poor
craythur, but believe he wants sthrait waist
coat worse nor my brandy. Your honor, darlnt,
| Til forgive him the brandy, an the brakin' of
me chair, but think I'D be charity to have
him out somewhere that I'd bring him 10 his
raisln' an purwint him from spaikin' in such an
unchr!stian language.
! Merlin
Thus ! doomed, where'er 60.
My jewels before swine to throw.
Mrs. Donovan.-You blackguard, if you call
me a swine I'll make you pay for me brandy II
you were as mad as March hare.
Magistrate any one here know this
man?
Policeman Yes, sir, do he's called the
mad poet, and is always drinking brandy and
talking nonse nse he does nothing for living,
and lives nowhere l believe he couldn't
speak like another man if he tried
Merlin.
'Tis true am before my time
For all men yet shall speak in rhyme,
NV lord, | am cheat for
The proofs of my true poetry
My hat, with half the crown beat in
My trowserloons, not worth pin
My coat, deficient of a skirt;
And then, my thirst for brandy-sure