in agitation round the haunted house,
clamours for the Police. Three gallant and well-grown officers,
uniformed, and belted, and braceleted, and bludgeoned, march fearlessly
into the house, prepared to say "Come, cut it," or "Be off out of that,"
to the grimmest phantom on the walk. In a few minutes the lettered
heroes rush out of the dwelling, their horror untold; but a policeman,
paid a guinea a week (less deductions), must have seen something
remarkable when he declares, that "untold gold" should not induce him to
stay in the place. And these legal authorities actually counsel the
householders to leave the dreadful house as soon as possible.

The mission, you see, for which a supernatural visitor is sent from the
world of spirits, prospers. Three labourers go into fits, and three
policemen are frightened out of their duty. Then doors bang all night,
and groans are heard, and a mob blocks up the street until five in the
morning. And _Mr. Punch_, who, as may often be seen in the streets, is
ready to tackle any ghost with that unhesitating club of his, goes the
next afternoon to Pond Street, and finds the assembly again in full
force, but not very reverent, and discussing the ghost's nature with
that freedom of epithet characteristic of street conversationists. _Mr.
Punch_ was very much shocked to hear the roar of laughter which greeted
a proposition, made by a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves and with a short
pipe, to the effect that if any one would "stand" (_Mr. Punch_ believes
he reports the right word) a vessel of malt liquor, he would go into the
house (which appears to have resembled that of SAUL), and inflict upon
the Ghost--as to whose future destiny the speaker's expressions showed
that he had made up his mind--a species of castigation which certainly
should be reserved for extreme cases. And _Mr. Punch_ further reports
that all along the King's Road, and near the Hospital, and even towards
theatrical Brompton, many of whose inhabitants have rejoiced to see "the
Ghost walk," the popular invitation was "Come on; let's go and see that
blessed Ghost." Clearly, therefore, the supernatural visitor is
fulfilling the important mission for which only can we suppose he has
been sent from another world.

When the clergy of the neighbourhood heard of the affair, they were
greatly moved. One of them, a young Barnabasian, threw down the sweetest
handful of charming artificial flowers, with which he was making an
altar-wreat