Now, though this might be, It don't seem to agree With one thing which, I own, is a poser to me,-- I mean, as the miracles wrought at the shrine Containing the bones brought from far Palestine Were so great and notorious, 'tis hard to combine This _fact_ with the reason these people assign, Or suppose that the head of the murder'd Divine Could be aught but what Yankees would call "genu-_ine_." 'Tis a very nice question--but be't as it may, The Ghost of Sir Ingoldsby (_ci-devant_ Bray), It is boldly affirm'd, by the folks great and small About Milton, and Chalk, and around Cobham Hall, Still on Candlemas-day haunts the old ruin'd wall. And that many have seem him, and more heard him squall. So I think, when the facts of the case you recall, My inference, reader, you'll fairly forestall, Viz.: that, spite of the hope Held out by the Pope, Sir Ingoldsby Bray was d--d after all! MORAL. Foot-pages, and Servants of ev'ry degree, In livery or out of it, listen to me! See what comes of lying!--don't join in a league To humbug your master, or aid an intrigue! Ladies!--married and single, from this understand How foolish it is to send letters by hand! Don't stand for the sake of a penny,--but when you 've a _billet_ to send To a lover or friend, Put it into the post, and don't cheat the revenue! Reverend gentlemen!--you who are given to roam, Don't keep up a soft correspondence at home! But while you're abroad lead respectable lives; Love your neighbours, and welcome,--but don't love their wives! And, as bricklayers cry from the tiles and the leads When they're shovelling the snow off, "TAKE CARE OF YOUR HEADS!" Knights!--whose hearts are so stout, and whose arms are so strong, Learn,--to twist a wife's neck is decidedly wrong! If your servants offend you, or give themselves airs, Rebuke them--but mildly--don't kick them down stairs! To "Poor Richard's" homely old proverb attend, "If you want matters well managed, _Go!_--if not, _Send!_" A servant's too often a negligent elf; --If it's business of consequence, DO IT YOURSELF! The state of society seldom requires People now to bring home with them unburied Friars, But they sometimes _do_ bring home an inmate for life; Now--don't do that by proxy!--but choose your own wife! For think how annoying 'twould be, when you're wed, To find in your bed, On the pillow, instead Of the sweet face you look for--A SARACEN'S HEAD! FOOTNOTES: [32] His brother Reginald, it would seem by the pedigree, disregarded this prohibition.