ALARMING PROSPECTS FOR THE COUNTRY.

It appears that no less than one hundred and sixty-four Attorneys have given notice of their intention to practise in the Court of Queen’s Bench; and eleven of the fraternity have applied to be re-admitted Attorneys of the Court.  We had no idea that such an alarming extension was about taking place in

[Illustration:  THE RIFLE CORPS.]

* * * * *

“ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.”

  A poor man went to hang himself,
    But treasure chanced to find;
  He pocketed the miser’s pelf
    And left the rope behind.

  His money gone, the miser hung
    Himself in sheer despair: 
  Thus each the other’s wants supplied,
    And that was surely fair.

* * * * *

We understand that Mr. Webster has solicited Sir Peter Laurie to make an early debut at the Haymarket Theatre in the Heir (hair) at Law.

Madame Vestris has also endeavoured to prevail upon the civic mercy.  Andrew to appear in the afterpiece of the Rape of the Lock.

* * * * *

THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.

CHAPTER X.

WHEREIN THE READER WILL FIND GREAT CAUSE FOR REJOICING.

[Illustration:  C]Conducive as Uncle Peter’s suggestion might have been to the restoration of peace in the family of our hero, it was decided to be impracticable by several medical gentlemen, who were consulted upon the matter.  After sundry scenes of maternal and grandmaternal distress, Agamemnon succeeded in obtaining the victory, and the heir was vaccinated accordingly with the most favourable result.  The pustule rose, budded, blossomed, and disappeared, exactly as it ought to have done, and a few days saw the health of the infant Applebite insured in the office of Dr. Jenner.

Scarcely had the anxious parents been relieved by this auspicious termination, when that painful disorder which renders pork unwholesome and children fractious, made its appearance.  Had we the plague-pen of the romancist of Rookwood, we would revel in the detail of this domesticated pestilence—­we would picture the little sufferer in the hour of its agony—­and be as minute as Mr. Hume in our calculations of its feverish pulsations; but our quill was moulted by the dove, not plucked from the wing of the carrion raven.

And now, gentle reader, we come to a point of this history which we are assured has been anxiously looked forward to by you—­a point at which the reader, already breathless with expectation, has fondly anticipated being suffocated with excitement.  We may, without vanity, lay claim to originality, for we have introduced a new hero into the world of fiction—­a baby three months old—­we have traced his happy parents from the ball-room to St. George’s church; from St. George’s church to the ball-room; thence to the doctor’s; and from thence to