NEWFOUNDLAND. 41 



Another walk which Gosse took with St. John at a very 

 early period may be recalled, because it gave occasion for 

 one of those burlesque poems of the latter which, if not 

 quite up to the highest level, was quite good enough to 

 gain for " Charley " St. John a local reputation as a 

 dangerously gifted poet. The laugh was raised at Gosse's 

 expense, and it is the butt himself who has preserved the 

 ditty. On one of those June evenings the two friends, 

 having sauntered through the long town until they had 



i passed the contiguous houses, had protracted their ramble 

 to the very lonely lane near Burnt Head, known as Rocky 

 Drong. This " drong," or lane, was reputed to be haunted. 

 It was now ten o'clock at night, when, turning round in 

 this desolate and gloomy locality, Gosse saw ahead what 

 seemed a dim female figure in white, afterwards igno- 

 miniously identified as " one of Dicky the Bird's nieces 

 coming up from the ' landwash ' with a ' turn ' of sand 

 for her mother's kitchen floor." The young naturalist 

 from Poole endured and quite failed to conceal a paroxysm 

 of terror, and got home in an exhausted condition. Two 

 days afterwards, Charley St. John produced at the office 

 a piece of foolscap, from which he proceeded to read to a 

 delighted audience the following doggerel effusion, the only 

 surviving text of which is, I regret to say, imperfect : — 



. . . The other night 

 The moon it shone, not very bright, 

 When lo ! in Rocky Drong appear'd 

 A form that made poor Gosse afeard. 

 It seem'd to wear a woman's clothes, 

 A horse's head, a buck-goat's nose ; 

 And with a deep and hollow moan, 

 It thus addressed the Latin drone — 

 " Young Man, I'm happy for to say 

 That long in Poole you did not stay ; 

 For to your house that very night, 

 The Devil claim'd you as his right. 



