Quoth the pudding “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, pudding!” then I shrieked, upstarting,
“Get thee back—get off my stomach, roll again upon the floor!”
Thus I struggled, loudly screaming, till I found I had been dreaming,
Dreaming like a famous poet once had dreamt in days of yore;
But although ’twas like the poet’s dream he dreamt in days of yore,
May I dream it nevermore!
Detroit Free Press Christmas Number, 1884.
The major of a Georgian regiment, writing to the United States Treasurer, said, “I send to you for redemption a fragment of a five dollar bill, the rest of which was destroyed under strangely curious circumstances. I dropped it into my pocket in company with some loose tobacco, and, after supper, taking a quid, I chewed money and tobacco, leaving scraps of the bill and fragments of tobacco in my pocket. When I discovered the sad catastrophe I went for the masticated quid, but all traces of the money had vanished, and, ‘like the baseless fabric of a dream, left not a wreck behind.’”