THE PORTSMOUTH BOGLE

Submitted by Martha J. Kounse

SOURCE: Ironton Register, October 17, 1872

Portsmouth has had a ghost, and the papers there are trying to put on airs, in disowning it. But the truth is out, for hundreds of people in that city of bogles saw it, scanned it closely and from divers stand points. A woman of extensive reputation, living in Portsmouth, died recently and her tender spirit loth to leave its earthly paradise, entered a pane of glass. Now this is all plausible and according to the custom of true spirits, who pass and repass through transparent mediums. It is Virgil who inspires Dryden to these words:

"Two gates, the silent house of sleep adorn;

Of polished iv'ry this that of transparent horn;

True visions through transparent horn arise;

Through polished iv'ry pass deluding lies."

Now this Portsmouth spirit was a true one for its avenue to the gaping world was transparent; it entered the pane of glass and there it stuck, though profane hands took out the glass, deluged it with acids and other chemicals. But the sweet vision was safe within and held to its crystal abode like a noble ghost. Nothing but a spirit could have stood the tests and all the acids in the world can't make a simon-pure spirit wince.

Our contemporaries down there act ingloriously in repudiating all rich lore and ascribing this spirituality manifestation to the photographic art of a streak of lightning. Local pride ought to inspire a worthier course. Not every town can hope to have a visitor from the spirit land entrench itself in a pane of glass and hold its positions against acids, a subsidized press and a sacrilegious multitude. And then to think of the fate of that spirit, for it came at last in the form of a ruthless blow that smashed into smithereens the diamond halls of its dwelling place and sent the shattered and decimated spirit back to its elysian fields.

Alas, poor Ghost! You should go next time where you will be better appreciated. Portsmouth can't bear the open shame of taking her spirits in a glass-not much; she prefers a pint flask or half gallon jug down the cellar, or up a dark alley. Revisit the glimpses of the moon and thy former prosperity in these winning designs, and Portsmouth will greet thee with manifestations of joy. Her old men and her young men will turn out, and every body will give thee a hearty welcome. Then, the editors will exclaim, "That is a true spirit, indeed!"