Wellington Street.
MY LORD,—It would have afforded me satisfaction to have consulted the wishes of Sir John Pollen in regard to the publication of this correspondence. The over-zeal of Sir John’s friends have left me no choice in the matter, I shall print.
Your obedient servant,
PUNCH.
Earl of Wilkshire.
Thus ended this—
CURIOUS CORRESPONDENCE.
HUMFERY CHEAT-’EM.—(Vide Ainsworth’s “Guy Fawkes.”)
A city friend met us the other morning: “Hark ‘ee,” said he, “Alderman Humfery has been selling shares of the Blackwall Railway, which were not in his possession; and when the directors complained, and gave him notice that they would bring his conduct before a full meeting, inviting him at the same time to attend, and vindicate or explain his conduct as he best might, he not only declined to do so, but hurried off to Dublin. Now, I want to know this,” and he took me by the button, “why was Alderman Humfery, when he ran away to Dublin, like the boy who ripped up his goose which laid golden eggs?”—We were fain to give it up.—“Because,” said he, with a cruel dig in the ribs, “because he cut his lucky!”