meditate upon it, he apprised me that his original determination
remained the same in short, that he still preferred to abide with me.

What shall I do? I now said to myself, buttoning up my coat to the last
button. What shall I do? what ought I to do? what does conscience say I
_should_ do with this man, or rather ghost. Rid myself of him, I must;
go, he shall. But how? You will not thrust him, the poor, pale,
passive mortal,--you will not thrust such a helpless creature out of
your door? you will not dishonor yourself by such cruelty? No, I will
not, I cannot do that. Rather would I let him live and die here, and
then mason up his remains in the wall. What then will you do? For all
your coaxing, he will not budge. Bribes he leaves under your own
paperweight on your table; in short, it is quite plain that he prefers
to cling to you.

Then something severe, something unusual must be done. What! surely you
will not have him collared by a constable, and commit his innocent
pallor to the common jail? And upon what ground could you procure such
a thing to be done?--a vagrant, is he? What! he a vagrant, a wanderer,
who refuses to budge? It is because he will _not_ be a vagrant, then,
that you seek to count him _as_ a vagrant. That is too absurd. No
visible means of support: there I have him. Wrong again: for
indubitably he _does_ support himself, and that is the only unanswerable
proof that any man can show of his possessing the means so to do. No
more then. Since he will not quit me, I must quit him. I will change
my offices; I will move elsewhere; and give him fair notice, that if I
find him on my new premises I will then proceed against him as a common
trespasser.

Acting accordingly, next day I thus addressed him: "I find these