mirth in the company. Joke the third was served up by one of the
waiting-men, who had been ordered to convey a quantity of gin into Mr
Adams's ale, which he declaring to be the best liquor he ever drank, but
rather too rich of the malt, contributed again to their laughter. Mr
Adams, from whom we had most of this relation, could not recollect all
the jests of this kind practised on him, which the inoffensive
disposition of his own heart made him slow in discovering; and indeed,
had it not been for the information which we received from a servant of
the family, this part of our history, which we take to be none of the
least curious, must have been deplorably imperfect; though we must own
it probable that some more jokes were (as they call it) cracked during
their dinner; but we have by no means been able to come at the knowledge
of them. When dinner was removed, the poet began to repeat some verses,
which, he said, were made extempore. The following is a copy of them,
procured with the greatest difficulty:--

_An extempore Poem on parson Adams._

Did ever mortal such a parson view?
His cassock old, his wig not over-new,
Well might the hounds have him for fox mistaken,
In smell more like to that than rusty bacon[A];
But would it not make any mortal stare
To see this parson taken for a hare?
Could Phoebus err thus grossly, even he
For a good player might have taken thee.

[A] All hounds that will hunt fox or other vermin will hunt a piece of
rusty bacon trailed on the ground.