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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 !

On one sole point the ghosts agreed, One fearful point, than which, indeed,

Nothing could seem absurder; Poor Colonel Jones they all abused, And finaily 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 common

spooks) 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 Wor

thies, 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

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,” 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.

Accordingly, this artless maid
Her father's ordinance obeyed,
And, all in whitest crape arrayed,
(Miss Pulsifer the dresses made
And wishes here the fact displayed
That she still carries on the trade,
The third door south from Bagg's Ar-

A very faint “I do" essayed
And gave her hand to Hiram Slade,
From which time forth, the ghosts were

laid, And ne'er gave trouble after; But the Selectmen, be it known,

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

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.”

Two curious facts which Prince Les

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, Avd 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.

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,




SOMEWHERE in India, upon a time, (Read it not Injah, or you spoil the

verse) There dwelt two saints whose privi

lege sublime It was to sit and watch the world grow

worse, Their only care (in that delicious

clime) At proper intervals to pray and curse ; Pracrit the dialect each prudent

Used for himself, Damnonian for the

One half the time of each was spent

in praying Forblessingson his own unworthy head,

The other half in fearfully portraying Where certain folks would go when

they were dead; This system of exchanges — there's

no saying To what more solid barter 't would have But that a river, vext with boils and

At rainy times, kept peace between
their dwellings.

So they two played at wordy battle-

dore And kept a curse forever in the air, Flying this way or that from shore to

shore; No other labor did this holy pair, Clothed and supported from the lav

ish store Which crowds lanigero'is brought wird

daily care ;

They toiled not neither did they spin:

their bias
Was tow'rd the harder task of being

Each from his hut rushed six score

times a day, Like a great canon of the Church full

rammed With cartridge theologic, (so to say,) Touched himself off, and then, recoil

ing, slammed His hovel's door behind him in a way That to his foe said plainly, - you'll

be damned ; And so like Potts and Wainwright,

shrill and strong The two D-D'd each other all day long.

V. One was a dancing Dervise, a Mo

hammedan, The other was a Hindoo, a gymnoso

phist; One kept his whatd’yecallit and his

Ramadan, Laughing to scorn the sacred rites and

laws of his Transfluvial rival, who, in turn, called

Ahmed an Old top, and, as a clincher, shook across With nails six inches long, yet lifted

not His eyes from off his navel's mystic knot.

VI. " Who whirls not round six thousand times an hour

screamed Ahmed, “to thu evil place ;


a fist

Will go,

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