eally, greatness has its multifold inconvenience. Falstaff wished that his name were not so terrible to the enemy, as he should then be less urgently called upon to go and fight. Mr. Punch wishes that his works were not so universally attractive, as he should not then have to answer so many questions about them. He has actually had to receive a Deputation upon the subject of his splendid and unparalleled Pocket-Book for 1872. It appears that certain improvements which he introduced into the volume have given the most enormous and outrageous satisfaction to the majority of mankind, and that the demand for the book has been excessive—almost inconvenient. But a minority of excellent persons, who hate all kinds of changes, have complained that by taking out certain blank pages, he has prevented the complainants from embalming their own observations by the side of his preternatural wit and humour. As aforesaid, a Deputation on the subject approached the presence last Saturday. Mr. Punch, of course, listened with his usual affability. The strong points of the applicants were, that they had been accustomed for years to write their own biographies and engagements in the sacred volume, and that the record of their lives thus became nearly imperishable, as no one in his right senses would ever destroy a Punch's Pocket-Book. They therefore humbly begged him to restore the old form.
Mr. Punch smiled, and gently said that of course he must be the best judge of what his friend the Universe required at his hands, and this proposition was conceded with respectful acclamation. He might just suggest that his Pocket-Book, although a precious jewel, was not a thing to be locked up in a cabinet, but one to be the light and joy of a household for a year, but it might not be so evident that personal entries, as "Charles very cross"—"Sweet letter from Arabella," "Bless Smithson's mistletoe!" "I hate Aunt Popkins," "Said I had not dined at Greenwich:" "Ridiculous sermon by new curate," and the like, were equally adapted for the perusal of the said household. Such things might be confided to a humbler receptacle. But the pleas being renewed, without reference to the answer (we need hardly remark that most of his visitors were of the sex "that can't argue, and pokes fires from the top," as good Archbishop Whatley said) Mr. Punch blandly promised that the views of the deputation should receive the utmost consideration at his hands. And when he had thus spoken he dismissed the assembly—or rather conducted it to a sumptuous, yet delicate lunch.
Duties and Imposts.
Important Notice to Travellers.—Any person arriving from the Continent is permitted to clear his throat at the Custom House free of all duty.
EVENINGS FROM HOME.
The next evening Tommy was dressed in an unusual style of elegance: every article of his attire was of the most exquisite cut; every species of ornament that fashion permitted to decorate his person was his; not a stud was omitted, nor was one drop, less than necessary, of india-rubber-boot-polish forgotten that could tend to render his toilet perfect. And, indeed, neither Mr. Barlow nor Harry were far behind him in appearance on this memorable occasion, which was nothing less than that of their first visit to the Royal Grecian Theatre, in the City Road.
Here, from their stalls (which were remarkably inexpensive, being, indeed, only one shilling and sixpence each) they surveyed the wonderful sight which presented itself to them, of a house densely packed from the floor to the ceiling.
The Pantomime was the only piece played, and was entitled Zig-Zag, the Crooked. When Mr. George Conquest, who represented Zig-Zag himself, first appeared, as if hewn out of the rock, inanimate as the Sphinx, a thrill of astonishment ran through the audience, which gradually showed itself in vehement applause when Zig-Zag's fearful eyes began to move, as at the command of the Young Prince, the monster became endued with life and descended from the rock.