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he repeated three times; and the third time, while his other hand was upon the door. It struck Frank that the barber’s ghost wished him to render him some service;—perhaps, thought he, the same which I have just received from him. In spite of his sad looks, the ghost appeared as much inclined to jest as to be in earnest, and as he had only passed a sort of trick upon, not injured him, our hero felt no longer afraid. So he beckoned, in his turn, for the spectre to take his seat, which he did with evident pleasure and alacrity. He once more threw aside his red cloak, put his bag upon the table, and sat down, with the air of a person who expects to be shaved. Frank took care to follow the manner which the spectre had observed; first cutting off the beard and hair with the scissars, and then soaping his whole head, his new customer sitting the whole time as still as a statue. Frank was rather awkward, having never handled a razor, and, in fact, shaved the poor patient ghost so much against the grain, that he made him pull the queerest faces in the world. Sensible how much he bungled, Frank began to be afraid, recollecting the prudent precept, “Not to meddle with another man’s business,” though he still proceeded, trying to do his best, until at last he succeeded in making the ghost as clean and bald-headed as himself. The moment he ceased, the spectre barber found his tongue: “Friend! I thank thee for the