So proves
our heroine, who, with a beautiful evasiveness, delivers the following
expostulation:--
"Says she, 'I am not dead, you fool!'"
One would think _that_ was a pretty decent clincher, by way of a reason
for declining the proposed trip to Giles Scroggins' little property at his
own peculiar "Gravesend;" but as contradiction begets controversy, and the
enlightened poet is fully aware of the effect of that cause, the undaunted
sprite of the interred Giles instantly opposes this, to him, flimsy
excuse, and upon the peculiar veracity of a wandering ghost, triumphantly
exclaims, in the poet's words--words that, lest any mistake should arise
as to the speaker by the peculiar construction of the sentence, are
rendered _doubly_ individual, for--
"_Says_ the _ghost_, says _he_, vy that's no rule!"
There's a staggerer! being alive no rule for _not_ being buried! how _is_
Molly Brown to get out of that high-pressure cleft-stick? how! that's the
question! Why not in a state of somnolency, not during the "death of each
day's life; no, it is clear, to escape such a consummation she must be
wide awake.
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