VI.

He called the ghost out of the corse;-- It was exceedingly like Peter,-- Only its voice was hollow and hoarse-- It had a queerish look of course-- Its dress too was a little neater.

The Devil knew not his name and lot; Peter knew not that he was Bell: Each had an upper stream of thought, Which made all seem as it was not; Fitting itself to all things well.

Peter thought he had parents dear, Brothers, sisters, cousins, cronies, In the fens of Lincolnshire; He perhaps had found them there Had he gone and boldly shown his

Solemn phiz in his own village; Where he thought oft when a boy He'd climb the orchard walls to pillage The produce of his neighbour's tillage, With marvellous pride and joy.