Rhyme? And Reason? Part 2

You're getting as familiar As if you were my cousin!

"Now that's a thing _I will not stand_, And so I tell you flat."

"Aha," said he, "we're getting grand!"

(Taking a bottle in his hand) "I'll soon arrange for _that_!"

And here he took a careful aim, And gaily cried "Here goes!"

I tried to dodge it as it came, But somehow caught it, all the same, Exactly on my nose.

And I remember nothing more That I can clearly fix, Till I was sitting on the floor, Repeating "Two and five are four, But _five and two_ are six."

What really pa.s.sed I never learned, Nor guessed: I only know That, when at last my sense returned, The lamp, neglected, dimly burned-- The fire was getting low--

Through driving mists I seemed to see A Thing that smirked and smiled: And found that he was giving me A lesson in Biography, As if I were a child.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CANTO IV.

Hys Nouryture.

"Oh, when I was a little Ghost, A merry time had we!

Each seated on his favourite post, We chumped and chawed the b.u.t.tered toast They gave us for our tea."

"That story is in print!" I cried.

"Don't say it's not, because It's known as well as Bradshaw's Guide!"

(The Ghost uneasily replied He hardly thought it was).

"It's not in Nursery Rhymes? And yet I almost think it is-- 'Three little Ghosteses' were set 'On posteses,' you know, and ate Their 'b.u.t.tered toasteses.'

"I have the book; so, if you doubt it--"

I turned to search the shelf.

"Don't stir!" he cried. "We'll do without it; I now remember all about it; I wrote the thing myself.

"It came out in a 'Monthly,' or At least my agent said it did: Some literary swell, who saw It, thought it seemed adapted for The Magazine he edited.

"My father was a Brownie, Sir; My mother was a Fairy.

The notion had occurred to her, The children would be happier, If they were taught to vary.

"The notion soon became a craze; And, when it once began, she Brought us all out in different ways-- One was a Pixy, two were Fays, Another was a Banshee;

"The Fetch and Kelpie went to school, And gave a lot of trouble; Next came a Poltergeist and Ghoul, And then two Trolls (which broke the rule), A Goblin, and a Double--

"(If that's a snuff-box on the shelf,"

He added with a yawn, "I'll take a pinch)--next came an Elf, And then a Phantom (that's myself), And last, a Leprechaun.

"One day, some Spectres chanced to call, Dressed in the usual white: I stood and watched them in the hall, And couldn't make them out at all, They seemed so strange a sight.

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"I wondered what on earth they were, That looked all head and sack; But Mother told me not to stare, And then she twitched me by the hair, And punched me in the back.

"Since then I've often wished that I Had been a Spectre born.

But what's the use?" (He heaved a sigh).

"_They_ are the ghost-n.o.bility, And look on _us_ with scorn.

"My phantom-life was soon begun: When I was barely six, I went out with an older one-- And just at first I thought it fun, And learned a lot of tricks.

"I've haunted dungeons, castles, towers-- Wherever I was sent: I've often sat and howled for hours, Drenched to the skin with driving showers, Upon a battlement.

"It's quite old-fas.h.i.+oned now to groan When you begin to speak: This is the newest thing in tone--"

And here (it chilled me to the bone) He gave an _awful_ squeak.

"Perhaps," he added, "to _your_ ear That sounds an easy thing?

Try it yourself, my little dear!

It took _me_ something like a year, With constant practising.

"And when you've learned to squeak, my man And caught the double sob, You're pretty much where you began: Just try and gibber if you can!

That's something _like_ a job!

"_I've_ tried it, and can only say I'm sure you couldn't do it, e- ven if you practised night and day, Unless you have a turn that way, And natural ingenuity.

"Shakspeare I think it is who treats Of Ghosts, in days of old, Who 'gibbered in the Roman streets,'

Dressed, if you recollect, in sheets-- They must have found it cold.

"I've often spent ten pounds on stuff, In dressing as a Double; But, though it answers as a puff, It never has effect enough To make it worth the trouble.

"Long bills soon quenched the little thirst I had for being funny.

The setting-up is always worst: Such heaps of things you want at first, One must be made of money!

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"For instance, take a Haunted Tower, With skull, cross-bones, and sheet; Blue lights to burn (say) two an hour, Condensing lens of extra power, And set of chains complete:

"What with the things you have to hire-- The fitting on the robe-- And testing all the coloured fire-- The outfit of itself would tire The patience of a Job!

"And then they're so fastidious, The Haunted-House Committee: I've often known them make a fuss Because a Ghost was French, or Russ, Or even from the City!

"Some dialects are objected to-- For one, the _Irish_ brogue is: And then, for all you have to do, One pound a week they offer you, And find yourself in Bogies!"

CANTO V.

Byckerment.

"Don't they consult the 'Victims,' though?"

I said. "They should, by rights, Give them a chance--because, you know, The tastes of people differ so, Especially in Sprites."

The Phantom shook his head and smiled.