LOT II.

A visionary pedigree and imaginative genealogical account of Roebuck’s ancestors—­commencing in the year 1801, and carefully brought down to the present time.  Very elaborate, but rather doubtful.

LOT III.

A full account of Wakley’s parliamentary ratting, or political felo-de-se; beautifully authenticated by his late Finsbury electors—­with sundry cuts by his former friends.

LOT IV.

An extraordinary large batch of uncommonly cheap bread, manufactured by one John Russell.  A beautiful electioneering and imaginative production, though now rather stale.

LOT V.

A future contract for the continuance of the poor-laws, and the right of pumps for the guardians to concoct the soup.

N.B.  Filters used if too strong.

LOT VI.

Daniel O’Connell’s opinions upon the repeal of the union, now that he is Lord Mayor of Dublin:  to be sold without reserve to the highest bidder.

The whole of the above are submitted to the public, in the sincere hope of their meeting purchasers—­as the price is all that is wanting to ensure a bona fide sale.  No catalogues—­no particulars—­no guarantees—­no deductions—­and no money returned.

* * * * *

SIR PETER LAURIE ON HUMAN LIFE.

Sir PETER LAURIE has set his awful face against suicide!  He will in no way “encourage” felo-de-se.  Fatal as this aldermanic determination may be to the interests of the shareholders of Waterloo, Vauxhall, and Southwark Bridges, Sir PETER has resolved that no man—­not even in the suicidal season of November—­shall drown, hang, or otherwise destroy himself, under any pretence soever!  Sir PETER, with a very proper admiration of the pleasures of life, philosophises with a full stomach on the ignorance and wickedness of empty-bellied humanity; and Mr. HOBLER—­albeit in the present case the word is not reported—­doubtless cried “Amen!” to the wisdom of the alderman.  Sir PETER henceforth stands sentinel at the gate of death, and any hungry pauper who shall recklessly attempt to touch the knocker, will be sentenced to “the treadmill for a month as a rogue and vagabond!”

One William Simmons, a starving tailor, in a perishing condition, attempts to cut his throat.  He inflicts upon himself a wound which, “under the immediate assistance of the surgeon of the Compter,” is soon healed; and the offender being convalescent, is doomed to undergo the cutting wisdom of Sir PETER LAURIE.  Hear the alderman “Don’t you know that that sort of murder (suicide) is as bad as any other?” If such be the case—­and