The Republican

MISS MUSLIN DECIDES TO SPEND THANKSGIVING AT THE FARM.
Has anyone told you (I don't think that I did)
What it was that, the very last moment, decided
Miss Muslin to stay in the country all through
The month of November and December too?

'Tis a most painful story; indeed, there is none
Of her many "misfortunes" so sad as this one.
Which I feel sure would never have happened at all
But for Master Miltiades Peterkin Paul.

"Now"-that promising youth one day said-"if,
my dear,
You will stay at the farm till Thanksgiving this year.
It is possible you too may see the strange sight
That appeared to myself on last Thanksgiving night,
I shan't tell you a thing more about it," said he.
But I strongly suspect that, between you and me,
Though he vowed up and down he'd not say one word,

'Twas the Ghost of the Turkey to which he referred.

But be that as it may, at least quite certain is it
Miss Muslin decided to lengthen her visit;
And when, Thanksgiving night, she went upstairs, instead
Of going, as might be supposed, straight to bed,
She sat up, in her room, till each one in the house
Was sleeping, and all was as still as a mouse-
Then stole quietly down (it was now near eleven),
Bent on following the advice that her cousin had given.

"To see this strange wonder"-the latter had said-
"You must creep slyly down, just before going to bed
And eat all there is that is left on the platter
Of the Thanksgiving dinner! Indeed, it's no matter
If you eat some pie also, and maybe a few
Of cold boiled potatoes and plum dumplings too:
Then go straight up to bed, and I give you fair warning,
You will see some astonishing things before morning."

So little Miss Muslin (as already said),
Turning over this doubtful advice in her head
Crept down to the pantry. But when she got there,
She found that, although she climbed into a chair
And stood upon tiptoe, yet even then each
Of the things that she wanted was just out of reach.

"Dear me!" I will have to sit down. I'm afraid,
And wait till I grow a few inches." she said.
But she soon, with a sudden resolve, pushed her hair back
And impatiently planting her foot on the chair-back,
By taking firm hold of the edge of the shelf,
She with great difficulty at length raised herself
High enough to get hold of the platter-when, lo!
(How it happened, exactly, I'm sure I don't know)
The shelf it gave way and she felt herself falling,
And the next instant, there, on the floor she was sprawling,
While saucers, plates, kettles, pies, turkey and platter
Fell thickly around her with horrible clatter

Did it hurt her? O, no; but I think she'd been glad
If, instead of what really did happen, it had.
Of course such a noise could not fail to arouse
The people who slept in that part of the house.
It was Grandmother Gray first appeared with a light
And found the poor child in a terrible plight.
For it happened a pail of molasses that stood
On the shelf had come down in a regular flood
On the head of Miss Muslin of Quintillion Square
And quite saturated her beautiful hair!

Alas, poor Miss Muslin! Again and again
They brushed and they soaked it-but always in vain,
Till at length, not without protestations and tears
On her part, her grandmother brought out the shears
And cut her hair close, leaving not one stray curl
To show whether she was a boy or a girl!

Now some one has told you (please don't say that I did)
What it was at the very last moment, decided
Miss Muslin to stay in the country all through
The month of November and December too.

—John Brownjohn, in Wide Awake for November