Benjamin Isenberg's Ghost
I had the distinct pleasure of meeting the ghost of my great-great
grandfather this afternoon. I was named, Benjamin minus Isenberg,
for him. He wrote Bible criticisms in competition with another gentlemen.
His labors seemed egotistical, ineffectual in the present, but the rheumy ghost
cleared up my misconceptions. Benjamin Isenberg's ghost was as heavy
as a pocket watch when I held him in my arms. I carried him to the stream,
in the field behind my house, and sent him to be with Moses in Egypt.
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