The daily morning journal and courier., 1895-02-05
Antique Poetry.

The subJoined is copied from clip ping of a scrap book of an old sub scriber and appeared in "The Sun o1 New York some time about the veal 1S41. Whether it originated in that pa per, or where it first came into the lit. erary world we are not well enough in formed to say; but the reader sees il in all it's quaintness with odd lines words in Caps" and ''blank verse, and it is thus reproduced in all its orig inality of over fifty years ago. P. THE GHOST. By the Author of "Ezekiers Visit to Deacon Stokes" 'Tis about twenty years since ABEL LAW, A short, round favored, merry, old soldier of the Revolutionary War, Was welded to A most abominable shrew;- The temper, sir, of Shakspeare's Catherine, Could be no more compared with hers, Than mine with Lucifer's. Her eye was like a weaseIs; she had harsh Face, like cranberry marsh, All spread
 With spots of white and red Hair of the color of a whip of straw. And DISPOSITION like a CROSS CUT SAW. The appeIlation of this lovely dame, Was Ann or Nancy, don't forget the name. Her brother-David--was q tall, Good looking chap, and that was all; One of your great, big nothings as we say. Here in Rhode eIsland-picking up old jokes, And cracking th9m on other folks, Well-David undertook to play The Ghost and frighten Abel, who, He knew, Would be returning from journey, through A grove of forest wood That stood Below The house, some distance, half mile or so. With long. taper Cap, of white paper, Just made to cover A wig, nearly as large over As a corn basket, and sheet With both ends made to meet Across his breast. (The way in which ghosts are always dressed,) He took His station near, A huge oak tree, Whence he could overlook The road and see Whatever might appear. It happened tbat an hour before, friend Abel Had eft the table Of an inn, where he had made a halt, With his horse and wagon, To make ttagon Of malt IiQuor, and so fortn; Whlcn Delng dOne, He went on, Caring no more for twenty ghosts Than if they were so many posts David was nearly tired of waiting; His patience was abaing; At length he heard the careless tones Of his kinsmans voice, And then the noise Of wagon wheels among the stones. Abel was quite elated, and wax roaring With all his might, and pouring Out in great confusion, Scraps of old songs made in ''the Revolution. .'' His head was full of Bunker Hill and Trenton And 1ovially he went on, Soaring the whipperwills among the trees With rhymes like these
 See the Yankees
 Leave the hill
 With Baggernets declining
 With Topped down hats
 And rusty guns,
 And leather aprons shining "see the Yankees'-Whoa! Why, what is
 that2" Said Abel staring like cat, As slowly on the fearful figure strode Into the middle of the road My conscience! what a suit of clothesl Some crazy fellow suppose! Holloa! friend, what your name3 by the DOW Tbot,s il strange dress to travel in?" Be silent, Abel, for now have come To read your doom; | am a SPIRIT. ."-"I suppose you ARE; But you'll not hurt me, and I'll tell you why; Here is a fact which you cannot deny All spirits must be either GOOD Or BAD--that's understood; And be you good or evil, am sure That I'm secure: If a good spirit--I am safe. If evil And don't know but you may be the DEVIL; if that's the case you'll recollect, I fancy, That AM MARRIED TO YOUR sIsTEt NANCY"