of
condition; grow as phthisical and hectic as any hero of a "religious"
novel. With a salary of L90 a year, it may be anticipated that he would
go fast to the dogs, and make such an end as a Curate might have made
under NERO.

The Incumbent, however, in want of a Curate, may perhaps be also in want
of bread, or so poorly off in that respect, as to be unable to offer the
assistant for whom he advertises more than a share of his crust. But
then he ought to have mentioned this circumstance, that broken meat
might have been sent to him, and that steps might have been taken to
enable him to participate in the bounty of the Society for Supplying
Clergymen with Old Clothes.

* * * * *

[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT OF THE EARL OF STIRLING AND CANADA.]

* * * * *

THE CHELSEA GHOST.

[Illustration: W]

Within the sound of the pleasant bells of St. Barnabas, and within
stone's throw of--_Punch_ does not know how many--churches, chapels,
literary and scientific lecture-rooms, schools, and other institutions,
mainly intended for the exorcising of ignorance, a Ghost has just dared
to show itself, and hundreds of fools have attended its levee.

Pond Street is the locality--the name is suggestive of stagnation and
greenness--and here has been seen a terrible apparition, "A Tall Man
with a Deathlike Face and Snowy Garments Reaching to his Feet." Allowing
for the poetry which broke out in snow, the description serves
wonderfully for an Irish labourer who, having been desperately beaten in
one of the religious ceremonies of his nation, gets out of bed in the
night-gown lent him by the hospital. But we will believe the Ghost to be
veritable, and to have a mission. Let us see what it is.

First, a sturdy young "excavator" goes up-stairs into the ghostly
chamber, and being in his cups, is the easier victim to the saucer eyes,
which flame on him so hideously that he falls down in a fit.

Secondly, another "excavator" (if these poor spade men have been
disturbing the Ghost's earthly tenement in its grave, justice would have
sent the remonstrating spectre to the surveyor's office, or the
contractor's counting-house) goes up-stairs, only to fall down in a fit
like his predecessor.

Thirdly, an older labourer comes home, and being informed of the affair,
proceeds to enquire into it. Stricken down in horror, his fits last for
hours.

The neighbourhood, now clustered