The Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell

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," 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 Arcade,)
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 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.