No More Learning

Here I broke in--"Inspector who?
Inspecting Ghosts is something new!
Explain yourself, my man! "

"His name is Kobold," said my guest:
"One of the Spectre order:
You'll very often see him dressed
In a yellow gown, a crimson vest,
And a night-cap with a border.

"He tried the Brocken business first,
But caught a sort of chill;
So came to England to be nursed,
And here it took the form of _thirst_,
Which he complains of still.

[Picture: And here it took the form of thirst]

"Port-wine, he says, when rich and sound,
Warms his old bones like nectar:
And as the inns, where it is found,
Are his especial hunting-ground,
We call him the _Inn-Spectre_. "

I bore it--bore it like a man--
This agonizing witticism!
And nothing could be sweeter than
My temper, till the Ghost began
Some most provoking criticism.

"Cooks need not be indulged in waste;
Yet still you'd better teach them
Dishes should have _some sort_ of taste.
Pray, why are all the cruets placed
Where nobody can reach them?

"That man of yours will never earn
His living as a waiter!
Is that queer _thing_ supposed to burn?
(It's far too dismal a concern
To call a Moderator).

"The duck was tender, but the peas
Were very much too old:
And just remember, if you please,
The _next_ time you have toasted cheese,
Don't let them send it cold.

"You'd find the bread improved, I think,
By getting better flour:
And have you anything to drink
That looks a _little_ less like ink,
And isn't _quite_ so sour?
"

Then, peering round with curious eyes,
He muttered "Goodness gracious! "
And so went on to criticise--
"Your room's an inconvenient size:
It's neither snug nor spacious.

"That narrow window, I expect,
Serves but to let the dusk in--"
"But please," said I, "to recollect
'Twas fashioned by an architect
Who pinned his faith on Ruskin! "

"I don't care who he was, Sir, or
On whom he pinned his faith!
Constructed by whatever law,
So poor a job I never saw,
As I'm a living Wraith!

"What a re-markable cigar!
How much are they a dozen? "
I growled "No matter what they are!
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 passed 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.