The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 5


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among the vulgar, at times, by the melancholy kind of cry which it  
utters, and the insignia of death which it wears upon its corslet.'"  
He here closed the book and leaned forward in the chair, placing  
himself accurately in the position which I had occupied at the moment of  
beholding "the monster."  
"Ah, here it is," he presently exclaimed--"it is reascending the face  
of the hill, and a very remarkable looking creature I admit it to be.  
Still, it is by no means so large or so distant as you imagined it,--for  
the fact is that, as it wriggles its way up this thread, which some  
spider has wrought along the window-sash, I find it to be about the  
sixteenth of an inch in its extreme length, and also about the sixteenth  
of an inch distant from the pupil of my eye."  
HOP-FROG  
I never knew anyone so keenly alive to a joke as the king was. He seemed  
to live only for joking. To tell a good story of the joke kind, and to  
tell it well, was the surest road to his favor. Thus it happened that  
his seven ministers were all noted for their accomplishments as jokers.  
They all took after the king, too, in being large, corpulent, oily men,  
as well as inimitable jokers. Whether people grow fat by joking, or  
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