Says Jack to Bob, “Look, poor Carter’s hipp’d!”
“Hipp’d, be d——d!” cries Bob, “the R——’s tipp’d!”
“No, no,” quoth Jack, “they put in too hard pats:”
“Put in,” echoes Bob, “they’ve put in—the flats!”
With this specimen of “the historian’s” style we dismiss the affair of Carter and Molineaux. We shall hear more of the so-called “Lancashire hero,” when we come to the life of Tom Spring in the next Period.
Molineaux once more started on a tour, extending it this time to Scotland, where he exhibited sparring in the principal towns. The black, like most of his race, had a childish propensity for gaiety, and a strong passion for dress, was amorously inclined, and devoted himself by turns to Bacchus and Venus. Of course the Black Samson met with many mercenary Dalilahs, and—
“Plung’d
In general riot, melted down his youth
In different beds of lust, and never learn’d
The icy precepts of respect, but follow’d