THE GHOST’S VISIT ON THE FELDBERG.

  Hark ye, fellows o’ Todtnau, if ever I told
       you the Scythe-Ghost[C]
  Was a spirit of Evil, I’ve now got a different
       story. 
  Out of the town am I,—­yes, that I’ll honestly
       own to,—­
  Related to merchants, at seven tables free to
       take pot-luck. 
  But I’m a Sunday’s child; and wherever the ghosts
       at the cross-roads
  Stand in the air, in vaults, and cellars, and
       out-o’-way places,—­
  Guardin’ hidden money with eyes like fiery
       sauce-pans,
  Washin’ with bitter tears the spot where
       somebody’s murdered,
  Shovellin’ the dirt, and scratchin’ it over
       with nails all so bloody,—­
  Clear as day I can see, when it lightens. 
       Ugh! how they whimper! 
  Also, whenever with beautiful blue eyes the
       heavenly angels,
  Deep in the night, in silent, sleepin’
       villages wander,
  Peekin’ in at the windows, and talkin’
       together so pleasant,
  Smilin’ one at the t’other, and settin’
       outside o’ the house-doors,
  So that the pious folks shall take no harm
       while they’re sleepin’: 
  Then ag’in, when in couples or threes they
       walk in the grave-yard,
  Talkin’ in this like:  “There a faithful
       mother is layin’;
  And here’s a man that was poor, but took no
       advantage o’ no one: 
  Take your rest, for you’re tired,—­we’ll waken
       ye up when the time comes!”
  Clearly I see by the light o’ the stars, and I
       hear them a-talkin’. 
  Many I know by their names, and speak to,
       whenever I meet ’em,
  Give ’em the time o’ day, and ask ’em, and
       answer their questions. 
  “How do ye do?” “How’s y’r watch?”
       “Praise God, it’s tolerable, thank you!”
  Believe it, or not!  Well, once on a time my
       cousin, he sent me
  Over to Todtnau, on business with all sorts o’
       troublesome people,
  Where you’ve coffee to drink, and biscuit
       they give you to soak in ’t. 
  “Don’t you stop on the road, nor gabble
       whatever comes foremost,”
  Hooted my cousin at startin’, “nor don’t you
       let go o’ your snuff-box,
  Leavin’ it round in the tavern, as gentlemen
       do, for the next time.” 
  Up and away I went, and all that my cousin
       he’d ordered
  Fairly and squarely I fixed.  At the sign o’
       the Eagle in Todtnau
  Set for a while; then, sure o’ my way, tramped
       off ag’in, home’ards,
  Nigh by the village, I reckoned,—­but found
       myself climbin’ the Feldberg,
  Lured by the birdies, and down by the brooks
       the beautiful posies: 
  That’s a weakness o’ mine,—­I ran like a fool
       after such things. 
  Now it was dusk, and the birdies hushed up,
       settin’