Apparent efforts at concealment invariably lead to doubt, and, doubt engendering curiosity, is very like to undergo, especially from one of the fair sex, a scrutiny of the most searching kind.  Eve caused the fall of Adam—­a daughter of Eve has discovered and crushed this heretofore hidden mystery.  This peculiarly empty individual was discovered by the good lady—­despite the disguise of a black patch upon his nose and an immeasurable outspread of Bandana superficially covering that (as he asserted) useless orifice, his mouth—­sneaking into the far-off premises of a miscellaneous vendor of ready-dressed eatables; and there Bernard the faster—­the anti-nourishment and terrestrial food-defying wonder—­the certificated of Heaven knows how many deacons, parsons, physicians, and fools—­demanded the very moderate allowance for his breakfast of a twopenny loaf, a sausage, and a quarter of a pound of ham cut fat:  that’s the beauty of it—­cut fat!  The astonished witness of this singular purchase rushed at once to the hotel:  Cavanagh might contain the edibles, she could not:  the affair was blown; an investigation very properly adjudicated upon the case; and three months’ discipline at the tread-mill is now the reward of this arch-impostor’s merits.  So far so good; but in the name of common sense let some experienced practitioner in the art of “cutting for the simples” be furnished with a correct list of the awful asses he has cozened at “hood-man blind;” and pray Heaven they may each and severally be operated on with all convenient speed!

* * * * *

“SLUMBER, MY DARLING.”

During the vacation, the Judges’ bench in each of the Courts at Westminster Hall has been furnished with luxurious air-cushions, and heated with the warm-air apparatus.  Baron Parke declares that the Bench is now really a snug berth,—­and, during one of Sergeant Bompas’s long speeches, a most desirable place for taking

[Illustration:  A SOUND NAP.]

* * * * *

A FAMILIAR EPISTLE

FROM

JOHN STUMP, ESQ., POET LAUREATE TO THE BOROUGH OF GRUB-CUM-GUZZLE,

TO

SIMON NIBB, ESQ., COMMON-COUNCIL-MAN OF THE SAID BOROUGH,

Setting forth a notable Plan for the better management of

RAILWAY DIRECTORS.

DEAR SIMON,

         If I were a Parliament man,
  I’d make a long speech, and I’d bring in a plan,
  And prevail on the House to support a new clause
  In the very first chapter of Criminal Laws! 
  But, to guard against getting too nervous or low
  (For my speech you’re aware would be then a no-go),
  I’d attack, ere I went, some two bottles of Sherry,
  And chaunt all the way Row di-dow di-down-derry![1]