240 
And instantly with bustling care, 
Began refreshments to prepare, ” 
And lodging for his guest. 
The guest was hungry, but soon made 
His appetite abate :— 
The guest was weary, and to bed 
Was, by the honest landlord, led ; 
Who, with a boding shake of head, 
Resign’d him to his fate. 
He look’d around, pried every post 
Where flesh and blood might creep ; 
Then laid him down. Awhile there cross’d 
His brain, odd thoughts about the ghost, 
Until these thoughts in dreams were lost, 
Of overpowering sleep. 
And now that hour portentous struck, 
Which bids the ghosts to roam ; 
When suddenly his slumbers broke, 
And starting, to himself he spoke :— 
“« T hope the barber hears the clock, 
For now’s his time to come.” 
He listens—all is silent gloom :—— 
But, bark! that sudden roar!— 
Say, bursts the barber from the tomb? 
For straight, as fearful of his doom, 
Our hero darts across the room, 
And skulks behind the door ! 
No, ‘tis not terror makes him flee, 
Nor is the barber there : 
Then, is it curiosity, 
The cause of that uproar to see, 
That leads him to withdraw the key, 
. And through the lock-hole stare ? 
O what a spirit-stirring sight 
Does to his view unfold ! 
Lo! in the chamber opposite, 
A troop of busy gamesters sit, 
Eager to win—ah! look at it— 
A tempting prize of gold. 
Now watch the sparkling of his eye! 
Some daring plan, I ween, 
Is hatching there; or, tell me, why, 
Soft on his tip-toes, does he hie 
Back o’er the room again? 
All ghastly pale he makes his face, 
With whiting from the wall ; 
Then does, with many a sooty trace, 
His nose and face and eyebrows grace, 
And on his redden’d throat pourtrays 
The bloody gash withal. 
Around his stately form he throws 
The flowing snow-white sheet ; 
His right hand grasps a razor close, 
The left outstretch’d a napkin shews, 
b And lather-box complete. 
Meanwhile, around the table, there, 
The eager gamesters sit ; 
No sound invades the list’ning ear, 
All palpitate ’twixt hope and fear, 
The golden prize is drawing near, 
And who shall pocket it? 
Original Poetry. 
[April 1, 
But, hist! whence comes that sudden noise? 
The door flies open wide ! 
The startled gamesters raise their eyes, 
And see, with horror and surprise, 
A spectre onward glide! 
A giant-form it was to view, 
Wrapt in a winding-sheet ; 
His face was of a corpse-like hue, 
And his cut throat, gashed thro’ and thro’, 
Seem’d, as each moaning breath he drew, - 
With life-blood trickling yet. 
And out he held a razor-blade, 
That red with blood was dyed ; 
And, with a voice might make the dead — 
Start in their cold sepulchral shade, 
“ Will you be shav’d?”’ he cried. 
Up started all the company, 
And scamper'd to the door, 
For who so bold as dare to stay 
To carry e’en the prize away ? 
Life is of value more. 
So off they ran, and after them 
The spectre- barber rav’d ; 
He shook the lather-box.again, 
He held the razor to their kén, 
Re-bellowing to th’ affrighted men, 
«© O, will you now be shav’d ?” 
On through the passage, wing’d with fear, 
And down the stairs they rush’d, 
The Barber following up the rear ; 
But when he saw the coast was clear, 
Straight he return’d to seize the gear, 
And soon the boards he brush’d. 
Back to his bed he then repairs 
To wait return of day ; 
And soon as morning light appears, 
Dresses, and hurries down the stairs, 
Determin’d to cut short affairs, 
And hasten on his way, 
“« How have you pass’d the night, good 
Sir?” 
Exclaim’d the trembling host ; 
«« Night! such another night, for sure, 
I would not for the world endure, 
No wink of sleep could I procure 
For that infernal ghost.’’ 
‘¢ No wonder, Sir,’’ the Host replied ; 
«> Tis well your life is spar’d ; 
A party ina room beside, 
While eagerly the dice they plied, 
Far worse than you have far’d. 
‘* For when the stakes were running high, 
In came the ghost. slap-dash ; 
Full quickly did he make them fly 
Down stairs, pell-mell, with hideous cry ; 
And then, d’ye know, the goblin sly 
Convey’d away the cash!” 
‘* My horse!’’ the stranger cried; “ for here 
* Tis an accursed place.” : 
He looks around in feigned fear, 
As though he saw the Barber there ; 
Mounts as the steed approaches near, 
And gallops off apace. 
Brodford, Yorkshire. 
. 
Stcma. a 
