"Behold, in yonder ancient figure of fun,
"Who rides the blast, Sir Jonah Barrington;--
"In tricks to raise the wind his life was spent,
"And now the wind returns the compliment.
"This lady here, the Earl of ---'s sister,
"Is a dead novelist; and this is Mister--
"Beg pardon--_Honorable_ Mister Lister,
"A gentleman who some weeks since came over
"In a smart puff (wind S. S. E.) to Dover.
"Yonder behind us limps young Vivian Grey,
"Whose life, poor youth, was long since blown away--
"Like a torn paper-kite on which the wind
"No further purchase for a puff can find."
"And thou, thyself"--here, anxious, I exclaimed--
"Tell us, good ghost, how thou, thyself, art named."
"Me, Sir!" he blushing cried--"Ah! there's the rub--
"Know, then--a waiter once at Brooks's Club,
"A waiter still I might have long remained,
"And long the club-room's jokes and glasses drained;
"But ah! in luckless hour, this last December,
"I wrote a book,[4] and Colburn dubbed me 'Member'--
"'Member of Brooks's!'--oh Promethean puff,
"To what wilt thou exalt even kitchen-stuff!
"With crumbs of gossip, caught from dining wits,
"And half-heard jokes, bequeathed, like half-chewed bits,
"To be, each night, the waiter's perquisites;--
"With such ingredients served up oft before,
"But with fresh fudge and fiction garnisht o'er,
"I managed for some weeks to dose the town,
"Till fresh reserves of nonsense ran me down;
"And ready still even waiters' souls to damn,
"The Devil but rang his bell, and--here I am;--
"Yes--'Coming _up_, Sir,' once my favorite cry,
"Exchanged for 'Coming _down_, Sir,' here am I!"
Scarce had the Spectre's lips these words let drop,
When, lo! a breeze--such as from ---'s shop
Blows in the vernal hour when puffs prevail,
And speeds the _sheets_ and swells the lagging _sale_--
Took the poor waiter rudely in the poop,
And whirling him and all his grisly group
Of literary ghosts--Miss X.
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