The pack having been called off, were taken to the kennel in the Haymarket, when one young dog, who had run counter at a bell-handle, was found to be missing; but the gratifying intelligence was soon brought, that he was safe in the Vine-street station-house.

The various compounds known as champagne, port, sherry, brandy, &c., having been very freely distributed, Captain Pepperwell made a proposition that will so intimately connect his name with that of the immortal Marquess, that, like the twin-born of Jupiter and Leda, to mention one will be to imply the other.

Having obtained silence by throwing a quart measure at the waiter, he wriggled himself into an upright position, and in a voice tremulous from emotion—­perhaps brandy, said—­

“Gentlemen of—­the Knocker Hunt—­there are times when a man can’t make—­a speech without con-considerable inconvenience to himself—­that’s my case at the present moment—­but my admiration for the distinguished foun—­der of the Knocker Hunt—­compels me—­to stand as well as I can—­and propose, that as soon as we have knockers enough—­they be melted down—­by some other respectable founder, and cast into a statue of—­the Marquess of Waterford!”

Deafening were the cheers which greeted the gallant captain!  A meeting of ladies has since been held, at which resolutions were passed for the furtherance of so desirable an object, and a committee formed for the selection of a design worthy of the originator of the Knocker Hunt.  To that committee we now appeal.

[Illustration: 
  TO HENRY, MARQUESS OF WATERFORD,
  AND HIS JOLLY COMPANIONS IN LOWE,
  THIS STATUE OF ACHILLES,
  CAST FROM KNOCKERS TAKEN IN THE VICINITIES
  OF SACKVILLE-STREET, VIGO-LANE, AND WATERLOO-PLACE,
  IS INSCRIBED
  BY THEIR GENTLEWOMEN. 
  PLACED ON THIS SPOT
  ON THE FIRST DAY OF APRIL, MDCCCXLII. 
  BY COMMAND OF
  COLONEL ROWAN.]

Mem.  The hunt meet again on Monday next, as information has been received that a splendid knocker occupies the door of Laing’s shooting gallery in the Haymarket.

* * * * *

STENOTYPOGRAPHY.

Our printer’s devil, with a laudable anxiety for our success, has communicated the following pathetic story.  As a specimen of stenotypography, or compositor’s short-hand, we consider it unique.

SERAPHINA POPPS;

OR, THE BEAUTY OF BLOOMSBURY.

Seraphina Popps was the daughter of Mr. Hezekiah Popps, a highly respectable pawnbroker, residing in ——­ Street, Bloomsbury.  Being an only child, from her earliest infancy she wanted for 0, as everything had been made ready to her [Symbol:  hand hand].

She grew up as most little girls do, who live long enough, and became the universal ![1] of all who knew her, for

  “None but herself could be her ||."[2]