The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1874-03-20
NUMBER 8.
THE BARDs IHFR0TED.

4 Z
Peter Knight was found wandering in
the Fourteenth Ward. The officer could
not determine whether he was intoxicated
OF crazy but, as he SAID he had no homs,
he was taken IN charge as a vagrant. He
was travcrsing tEe streets, with folded
arms. talking To himself odd bits Of pasS
and poems. He To~sgsscd a facility Of 90
tation equal to Richard Swivelcr, esq. but
lie was aS reckless about The eNGc,itude {
his extracts. and iumGlCd mp his author
lies with rs much confusion as Captain
IUtjle himself Ee Seldom gave quota
tiou rj-'.t. Eut wcuid break of i'm the mid
de and substitute some words of his own,
or dovetail in an iirclevaJt piece from
some strange author. or mix Up h1lf doz-
en- authors with iutcrpulatious of bis own,
in an inCXtricabie verbal tumble.
Clerk w hats your name?
lIisooCT-P"tcr Knight am a native to
the marrow bouc''-that's SEakcspear
C!erk-Nas you intoxicated yesterday?
PrisoaCT-''Fis true, Ills pity pity 'jis
there isn't the devil a doubt of it-that's
Scott.
Clerk-Whcrc aid you get your liguor"
PriSoneT-WheTe the bee sucks, there
SACKS Peter KEight al day. Thou base, in
glorious Slave, ,think'st thou l viii reveal
the noble name of him Who gave me wine?
10 stree, BOb-that's Beaumont and
Fletcher.
Officer in a whisrer)-If YOU don't tell
you'll have to CO 10 Jail.
PriSoucr-I do remember an apothecary,
and hereabouis lac dweilS-uo he don't lie
lives over in ,he BuwCIy-Lut in his needy
shop Goldfish hangs, and ou his shelves y
heGgarly accoUnt-Uf empty bottles. Noting
this penury To myself. ] said il any man
did need brandy punch, wHnse sale is S50
fine in Gotham, here lives a caitiff wretch
who has probably goJ plenty of il under
the counter. Why should | here corccal
my fault? Wine, I cried. The call Was
answered. I have no wine, said he, bat
plenty of whis-. Silence then. perui-
cious caiJifT, quoth thou 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
a phial. and in the porceT OF my throat did
pour JdolphO Wolfe's diStilmCnt. Thus
was l by a Dutchman's hand at once des-
patChed-nut drunk nor subCr-Sent into
this dirty station house three-quarters
tight, with all my imperfectious on my
head The fellow = name? Iy very s0ul
rebels. But whether is it nobler in the
mind to EuiIer the cuffs and bruises Of this
bloody Dutchman, or TO take arms against
his red-Laircd highneSs and by informing
cad them? ! 60 and it is done. Villain,
here's at thy heart His name, your Hon
or, Is Bub B.esnolIkjn, IN the BOweFy.
That's Shakespeare mixed.
Clerk-Have you got home ?
Prisouer-My home is on the deep sea
that's Plutarch's Lives.
/ Clerk-lIow do You get your living
PriSouer-DOubt thou the stars are fire
doubt shat the sun doth move; doubt truth
To he 4 liar; but never doubt that I'll get
4 living while the oyster sIoops don have
bUt one watchman-that's Billy :. again.
CIerk-Do yuu pay for your oysters
PTiSoner-BaSe is the slave that PAYS
tie speed Of thought IS in my Imbs-that's
Byron.
Clerk-Do YOU steal them and then run
away?
PriSOner-i'vc told thee all: I'll no more
though short the story he 3: let me 90 back
where l was before, and I'll get nay living
without troubling the CorpOration-thats
Tom Moore altered to suit circumstances.
Justice evidently at a loss in a whispe,
20 mystifed cleTl;-I think he's crazy {;
what do you think it's best to do with him?
uorloverhcaring} of with his head;
SO much-that's Shakespeare curtailed.
JUstIce-Nlll you promise to dispense
with the brandy and gin if you me d.s-
charged?
PITsoner-Ch. I could be happy with
either were t'othCr dear charmer bottled
up and tEe cork put iu-that's Dibdiu,
with Il vengeance.
Judge-What do you suppose viii be-
come Of you if yOu 60 on in this way, liv-
ing as you have done?
Prisouer-Alas, poor Yorick Peter I
mean. Who knows where he viii lay his
bones few and short VIII the prayers la
said, and uobody'Il feel any sorrow but
they'll cram him into his clay-clod bed,
and bury somebody else on top of him to
morrow; the minister will come PUT oI
his robe, and read the service the choir'I
sing a hymn earth to earth and dust II
gravel, and that'u be the last of Peter
Knight.
Clerk-Peter wc'n have to send you UP
for ten days.
Prisouer-Faye the well, and if forever
all the better-that's byron revised and
corrccted.-N. J. Graphic.