Half-past Five o’clock.—­Two post-chaises have just dashed by at full speed—­I got a glimpse of Tom Daly smoking a cigar in one of them.

Six o’clock.—­I open my letter to tell you that Figsby is the favourite; 3 to 1 has been offered at the club, that he wings his man; and 3 to 2 that he drills him.  The public anxiety is intense.

Half-past Six.—­I again open my letter to say, that I have nothing further to add, except that the betting continues in favour of the popular candidate.

Seven o’clock.—­Huzza!—­Griggles is shot!  The glorious principles of constitutional freedom have been triumphant!  The town is in an uproar of delight!  We are making preparations to illuminate.  BALLINAFAD IS SAVED!  FIGSBY FOR EVER!

* * * * *

EPIGRAM.

  Lord Johnny from Stroud thought it best to retreat. 
  Being certain of getting the sack,
  So he ran to the City, and begged for a seat,
  Crying, “Please to re-member Poor Jack!”

* * * * *

CONUNDRUMS BY COL.  SIBTHORP.

Why is a tall nobleman like a poker?—­Because he’s a high’un belonging to the great.

Why is a defunct mother like a dog?—­Because she’s a ma-stiff.

When is a horse like a herring?—­When he’s hard rode.

* * * * *

EPIGRAM ON SEEING AN EXECUTION.

  One morn, two friends before the Newgate drop,
  To see a culprit throttled, chanced to stop: 
  “Alas!” cried one as round in air he spun,
  “That miserable wretch’s race is run.” 
  “True,” said the other drily, “to his cost,
  The race is run—­but, by a neck ’tis lost.”

* * * * *

FASHIONABLE ARRIVALS.

Lord John Russell has arrived at a conviction—­that the Whigs are not so popular as they were.

Sir Peter Laurie has arrived at the conclusion—­that Solon was a greater man than himself.

* * * * *

THE POET FOILED.

  To win the maid the poet tries,
  And sonnets writes to Julia’s eyes;—­
  She likes a verse—­but cruel whim,
  She still appears a-verse to him.

* * * * *

A most cruel hoax has recently been played off upon that deserving class the housemaids of London, by the insertion of an advertisement in the morning papers, announcing that a servant in the above capacity was wanted by Lord Melbourne.  Had it been for a cook, the absurdity would have been too palpable, as Melbourne has frequently expressed his opposition to sinecures.