“and if you don’t, in less than two years from this time, say I am a true prophet, put me on seven years’ allowance.”  What the meaning of this latter expression may be, we cannot divine.  It seems to us no very severe punishment to be forced to receive the allowance of seven years instead of one, the only explanation we can think of is, that it contains some delicate allusion to the dietary of gentlemen who are supposed to be visiting one of the colonies in New Holland, but in reality employ themselves in aquatic amusements in Portsmouth and Plymouth harbour “for the space of seven long years”—­and are not supposed to fare in so sumptuous a manner as the aldermen of the city of London.

“The poor horses,” he proceeded, “that are continually tumbling down on the wood pavement, cannot send their representatives, but I will represent them here whenever I have the opportunity”—­(a horse laugh, as if from the orator’s constituents, was excited by this sally.) “But, gentlemen, besides the danger of this atrocious system, we ought to pay a little attention to the expense.  I maintain you have no right to make the inhabitants of those streets to which there is no idea of extending the wood paving, pay for the ease and comfort, as it is called, of persons residing in the larger thoroughfares, such as Newgate Street and Cheapside.  But the promoters say, ’Oh I but we will have the whole town paved with it’—­(hear, hear.) What would this cost?  A friend of mine has made some calculations on this point, and he finds that, to pave the whole town with wood, an outlay of twenty-four millions of money must be incurred!”

It was generally supposed in the meeting that the friend here alluded to was either Mr Joseph Hume or the ingenious gentleman who furnished Lord Stanley with the statistics of the wheat-growing districts of Tamboff.  It was afterwards discovered to be a Mr Cocker Munchausen.

Twenty-four millions of money! and all to be laid out on wood!  The thought was so immense that it nearly choked the worthy orator, and he could not proceed for some time.  When at last, by a great effort, he recovered the thread of his discourse, he became pathetic about the fate of one of the penny-post boys, (a relation—­“we guess”—­of the deceased H. Walker, Esq. of the Twopenny Post,)—­who had broken his leg on the wooden pavement.  The authorities had ordered the lads to avoid the wood in future.  For all these reasons, Sir Peter concluded his speech with a motion, “That the wood pavement in the Poultry is dangerous and inconvenient to the public, and ought to be taken up and replaced with granite pavement.”

    “As in a theatre the eyes of men,
    After some well-graced actor leaves the stage,
    Are idly bent on him who enters next
    Thinking his prattle to be tedious,
    Even so, or with more scorn, men’s eyes
    Were turned on——­Mr Deputy Godson!”