On one sole point the ghosts agreed, One fearful point, than which, indeed, Nothing could seem absurder; Poor Colonel Jones they all abused, And finally downright accused

The poor old man of murder;

'T was thus; by dreadful raps was shown

Some spirit's longing to make known
A bloody fact, which he alone
Was privy to, (such ghosts more prone
In Earth's affairs to meddle are ;)
Who are you? with awe-stricken looks,
All ask his airy knuckles he crooks,
And raps, "I was Eliab Snooks,

That used to be a pedler;
Some on ye still are on my books!"
Whereat, to inconspicuous nooks,
(More fearing this than

spooks,)

common

Shrank each indebted meddler; Further the vengeful ghost declared That while his earthly life was spared, About the country he had fared, A duly licensed follower

Of that much-wandering trade that wins Slow profit from the sale of tins

And various kinds of hollow-ware; That Colonel Jones enticed him in, Pretending that he wanted tin, There slew him with a rolling-pin, Hid him in a potato-bin,

And (the same night) him ferried Across Great Pond to t'other shore, And there, on land of Widow Moore, Just where you turn to Larkin's store, Under a rock him buried; Some friends (who happened to be by) He called upon to testify That what he said was not a lie,

And that he did not stir this Foul matter, out of any spite But from a simple love of right;Which statements the Nine Worthies,

Rabbi Akiba, Charlemagne,

Seth, Colley Cibber, General Wayne,
Cambyses, Tasso, Tubal-Cain,
The owner of a castle in Spain,
Jehanghire, and the Widow of Nain,
(The friends aforesaid,) made more plain
And by loud raps attested;
To the same purport testified
Plato, John Wilkes, and Colonel Pride

Who knew said Snooks before he died,
Had in his wares invested,
Thought him entitled to belief
And freely could concur, in brief,
In everything the rest did.

Eliab this occasion seized,
(Distinctly here the spirit sneezed,)
To say that he should ne'er be eased
Till Jenny married whom she pleased,
Free from all checks and urgin's,
(This spirit dropt his final g's)
And that, unless Knott quickly sees
This done, the spirits to appease,
They would come back his life to tease,
As thick as mites in ancient cheese,
And let his house on an endless lease
To the ghosts (terrific rappers these
And veritable Eumenides)

Of the Eleven Thousand Virgins!

Knott was perplexed and shook his head,

He did not wish his child to wed

With a suspected murderer, (For, true or false, the rumor spread,) But as for this roiled life he led, "It would not answer, 99 so he said, "To have it go no furderer." At last, scarce knowing what it meant, Reluctantly he gave consent That Jenny, since 't was evident That she would follow her own bent,

Should make her own election ; For that appeared the only way These frightful noises to allay Which had already turned him gray And plunged him in dejection.

Dug underneath the aforesaid stone, Where the poor pedler's corpse was thrown,

And found thereunder a jaw-bone,
Though, when the crowner sat thereon,
He nothing hatched, except alone
Successive broods of laughter;
It was a frail and dingy thing,
In which a grinder or two did cling,
In color like molasses,

Which surgeons, called from far and wide,

Upon the horror to decide,

Having put on their glasses, Reported thus-"To judge by looks, These bones, by some queer hooks or crooks,

May have belonged to Mr. Snooks,
But, as men deepest-read in books
Are perfectly aware, bones,
If buried fifty years or so,
Lose their identity and grow

From human bones to bare bones."

Still, if to Jaalam you go down,
You'll find two parties in the town,
One headed by Benaiah Brown,

And one by Perez Tinkham ;
The first believe the ghosts all through
And vow that they shall never rue
The happy chance by which they knew
That people in Jupiter are blue,
And very fond of Irish stew,

Two curious facts which Prince Lee Boo

Rapped clearly to a chosen few

Whereas the others think 'em
A trick got up by Doctor Slade
With Deborah the chamber-maid
And that sly cretur Jinny.
That all the revelations wise,
At which the Brownites made big eyes,
Might have been given by Jared Keyes,
A natural fool and ninny,

And, last week, did n't Eliab Snooks
Come back with never better looks,
As sharp as new-bought mackerel
hooks,

And bright as a new pin, eh?
Good Parson Wilbur, too, avers
(Though to be mixed in parish stirs
Is worse than handling chestnut-burrs)
That no case to his mind occurs
Where spirits ever did converse
Save in a kind of guttural Erse,

(So say the best authorities ;) And that a charge by raps conveyed, Should be most scrupulously weighed

And searched into, before it is Made public, since it may give pain That cannot soon be cured again, And one word may infix a stain

Which ten cannot gloss over, Though speaking for his private part, He is rejoiced with all his heart

Miss Knott missed not her lover.