Old

Cob

Pipe!

[Pg 15]

[Pg 15]

TIM BLUSTER'S DREAM.

'Twas a place of fifty acres, in a lonely neighborhood,

And near a grove of somber pines the shackly farm-house stood;

And all the folks, for miles around, did solemnly declare

That ghosts and goblins horrible held nightly revel there.

They said the house was "hanted," and that not a man alive,

In all the country round about, could own the place and thrive;

That the cattle died with fever, and the hogs the cholera took—

And every one that tried it wore a mighty troubled look.

But they put it up at auction, and Tim Bluster bid the most,

Who always said "There want no hants nor any kind of ghost

That ever walked a graveyard in the middle of the night

Could make his nerves unsteady, or could fill him with affright!"

So Tim got full possession, and he moved out to his home,

And the first night, as he sat there, within his room alone,

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