"An Intolerable Nuisance."—The Pall Mall Gazette is to be felicitated upon a praiseworthy but, unfortunately, unsuccessful attempt to institute a campaign against the organ fiends haunting our streets. But the letters which, under the heading "An Intolerable Nuisance," poured in briskly at first, have finally "ceased and determined." We have been told of a village, "in the Ausonian hills," peopled by retired organ-grinders who, having amassed a fortune—resulting from bribes, given by the despairing citizen, as an inducement to the torturer to remove himself "to the next street"—repair thither to enjoy an otium cum dignitate, untroubled by any qualm of conscience for the suffering inflicted by them upon patient Britons. Will some Novum Organon tell us the whereabouts of this Utopia, and let us thither banish in shiploads these "intolerable nuisances."
CABBY; OR, REMINISCENCES OF THE RANK AND THE ROAD.
(By "Hansom Jack.")
No. VI.—FARES AND FINDS.
The Mistery of a Hansom Cab? Oh yes, I've read it; or leastways dipped into it.
Rayther perlice-newsy sort of a story; strong flaviour of murder and unsweetened gin to it.
"Less cab than license," young Mulberry sniggers. Young Mulberry fancies 'imself as a joker.
Still, we do 'ave some rum finds in our cabs, from a set o' false teeth to a red-ended poker.