'I'll take the arm-chair, to be more at my ease, And then let us travel, as fast as you please; Can you tell me what lies at the head of your stairs?' (He thought he should take her thus unawares;) She said, without any demurrage at all, 'A handkerchief-parcel, the knots tow'rd the wall; Beside it, a beaver; it's brim is wide, And an old piece of paper is stuck inside.' A very round oath the physician swore, ''Twas the self-same hat that he always wore: No mortal could see through a six-inch wall-- An angel undoubtedly whisper'd it all.' 'You flatter,' the sister said, with a sigh, 'I never _did_ tell her, I'm sure--not I!' 'The bundle contains,' said the spirit, 'a shirt; Your name and a number are mark'd on the skirt.' The doctor said nothing; it came to his mind That he _had_ such an one, but had left it behind: He marvel'd a woman could tell to a hair, Not only what was, but what should have been there! 'If you've no objections,' ('I have not,' said she,) 'We'll go to my house, and see, what we can see; I hope you'll go too, Miss--it is not too far; Beside, you have only to set where you are. The spirit, (how pleasant soever the road,) Will find 'the more music, the lighter the load!' But the sister assured him that no one, except Himself, could affect her, so long as she slept;[7] 'She could not distinguish a word that I said, Though loud as the trumpet that summons the dead.' 'That's true,' said the spirit, 'for talk as she may, I'm not a whit wiser for all she can say;[8] But I'm at your door, and have given a knock, And some one is turning the key in the lock.' 'That's odd:' said the doctor; 'I can't recollect When turning the key would have any effect; The lock is a _patent_ one, made with such skill, It never yet work'd, and I fear never will. But why should we wait till they open the door? Let's fly to my study, it's on the first floor!' 'How nice!' said the spirit; 'you get all the sun, With two pretty windows----' 'There is but one.' 'But one?' said the walker--'ah, that's very true; A somnambulist sees _twice_ as plainly as you; But truly I'm certain, your fortunate wife Must lead a most exquisite sort of a life.' 'But then I am single;' 'I know it,' said she; 'I mean, if you _had_ one, how happy she'd be!' So sweetly she said it, he look'd at her long, The likeness was striking--each moment more strong. Alas! poor practitioner, look to thy heart; A treacherous weapon is Love's little dart! END OF PART TWO. FOOTNOTES: [4] 'Half-drawing down.' From the control of the sleeper's mind over his muscles, this most expressive gesture of the Æsculapian fraternity was but an 'opus infectum.' [5] The stronger the exercise of the will, the more perfect is the effect produced.