I say a catch.

MR GLOWRY

I say no. A song from Mr Cypress.

ALL

A song from Mr Cypress.

MR CYPRESS _sung_--

There is a fever of the spirit, The brand of Cain's unresting doom, Which in the lone dark souls that bear it Glows like the lamp in Tullia's tomb: Unlike that lamp, its subtle fire Burns, blasts, consumes its cell, the heart, Till, one by one, hope, joy, desire, Like dreams of shadowy smoke depart.

When hope, love, life itself, are only Dust--spectral memories--dead and cold-- The unfed fire burns bright and lonely, Like that undying lamp of old: And by that drear illumination, Till time its clay-built home has rent, Thought broods on feeling's desolation-- The soul is its own monument.

MR GLOWRY

Admirable. Let us all be unhappy together.

MR HILARY

Now, I say again, a catch.

THE REVEREND MR LARYNX

I am for you.

ME HILARY

'Seamen three.'

THE REVEREND MR LARYNX

Agreed. I'll be Harry Gill, with the voice of three. Begin

MR HILARY AND THE REVEREND MR LARYNX

Seamen three! I What men be ye?

Gotham's three wise men we be.

Whither in your bowl so free?

To rake the moon from out the sea.

The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.

And our ballast is old wine; And your ballast is old wine.

Who art thou, so fast adrift?

I am he they call Old Care.

Here on board we will thee lift.

No: I may not enter there.

Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree, In a bowl Care may not be; In a bowl Care may not be.

Pear ye not the waves that roll?

No: in charmed bowl we swim.

What the charm that floats the bowl?

Water may not pa.s.s the brim.

The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.

And our ballast is old wine; And your ballast is old wine.

This catch was so well executed by the spirit and science of Mr Hilary, and the deep tri-une voice of the reverend gentleman, that the whole party, in spite of themselves, caught the contagion, and joined in chorus at the conclusion, each raising a b.u.mper to his lips:

The bowl goes trim: the moon doth shine: And our ballast is old wine.

Mr Cypress, having his ballast on board, stepped, the same evening, into his bowl, or travelling chariot, and departed to rake seas and rivers, lakes and ca.n.a.ls, for the moon of ideal beauty.

CHAPTER XII

It was the custom of the Honourable Mr Listless, on adjourning from the bottle to the ladies, to retire for a few moments to make a second toilette, that he might present himself in becoming taste. Fatout, attending as usual, appeared with a countenance of great dismay, and informed his master that he had just ascertained that the abbey was haunted. Mrs Hilary's _gentlewoman_, for whom Fatout had lately conceived a _tendresse_, had been, as she expressed it, 'fritted out of her seventeen senses' the preceding night, as she was retiring to her bedchamber, by a ghastly figure which she had met stalking along one of the galleries, wrapped in a white shroud, with a b.l.o.o.d.y turban on its head. She had fainted away with fear; and, when she recovered, she found herself in the dark, and the figure was gone.

'_Sacre--cochon--bleu_!' exclaimed Fatout, giving very deliberate emphasis to every portion of his terrible oath--'I vould not meet de _revenant_, de ghost--_non_--not for all de _bowl-de-ponch_ in de vorld.'

'Fatout,' said the Honourable Mr Listless, 'did I ever see a ghost?'

'_Jamais_, monsieur, never.'

'Then I hope I never shall, for, in the present shattered state of my nerves, I am afraid it would be too much for me. There--loosen the lace of my stays a little, for really this plebeian practice of eating--Not too loose--consider my shape. That will do. And I desire that you bring me no more stories of ghosts; for, though I do not believe in such things, yet, when one is awake in the night, one is apt, if one thinks of them, to have fancies that give one a kind of a chill, particularly if one opens one's eyes suddenly on one's dressing gown, hanging in the moonlight, between the bed and the window.'

The Honourable Mr Listless, though he had prohibited Fatout from bringing him any more stories of ghosts, could not help thinking of that which Fatout had already brought; and, as it was uppermost in his mind, when he descended to the tea and coffee cups, and the rest of the company in the library, he almost involuntarily asked Mr Flosky, whom he looked up to as a most oraculous personage, whether any story of any ghost that had ever appeared to any one, was ent.i.tled to any degree of belief?

MR FLOSKY

By far the greater number, to a very great degree.