Page:Carroll - Rhyme and Reason.djvu/38

22 "Port-wine, he says, when rich and sound.
 * Warms his old bones like nectar:

And as the inns, where it is found, Are his especial hunting-ground,
 * We call him the Inn-Spectre."

I bore it—bore it like a man—
 * This agonizing witticism!

And nothing could be sweeter than My temper, till the Ghost began
 * Some most provoking criticism.

"Cooks need not be indulged in waste;
 * Yet still you'd better teach them

Dishes should have some sort of taste. Pray, why are all the cruets placed
 * Where nobody can reach them?

"That man of yours will never earn
 * His living as a waiter!

Is that queer thing supposed to burn? (It's far too dismal a concern
 * To call a Moderator).