shillings by mimicking his sayings and his songs and his getup upon the
stage. One night this actor was at supper with some friends, when
dispute arose as to whether his mimicry was overdone or not. It was
agreed to settle it by an appeal to the mob. A forty-shilling supper at
a famous coffeehouse was to be the wager. The actor took up his station
at Essex Bridge, a great haunt of Moran's, and soon gathered a small
crowd. He had scarce got through "In Egypt's land, contagious to the
Nile," when Moran himself came up, followed by another crowd. The
crowds met in great excitement and laughter. "Good Christians," cried
the pretender, "is it possible that any man would mock the poor dark
man like that?"

"Who's that? It's some imposhterer," replied Moran.

"Begone, you wretch! it's you'ze the imposhterer. Don't you fear the
light of heaven being struck from your eyes for mocking the poor dark
man?"

"Saints and angels, is there no protection against this? You're a most
inhuman-blaguard to try to deprive me of my honest bread this way,"
replied poor Moran.

"And you, you wretch, won't let me go on with the beautiful poem.
Christian people, in your charity won't you beat this man away? he's
taking advantage of my darkness."

The pretender, seeing that he was having the best of it, thanked the
people for their sympathy and protection, and went on with the poem,
Moran listening for a time in bewildered silence. After a while Moran
protested again with: