sertion?--CONSIDERATE.

HAIR FALLING OFF.--My hair is coming off, not slowly, but in one
great circular patch at the top of the head. A malicious report has in
consequence been spread abroad in the neighbourhood that I have been
_scalped_! What course ought I to adopt to (1) recover damages against
my traducers, and (2) recover my hair?--LITTLE WOOL.

* * * * *

THE LIGHTS O' LONDON.

"The first practical constructive step towards lighting the
City of London by means of electricity, was taken yesterday
(Feb. 3), when the LORD MAYOR placed in position the first
stone of the main junction-box for the electric conductors,
at the top of Walbrook, close under the shadow of the western
walls of the Mansion House."--_Times_.

[Illustration: _Bill Sikes_. "WELL, I _HAM_ BLOWED! IF THEY'RE GOIN'
TO 'AVE THIS BEASTLY 'LECTRIC LIGHT ALL OVER THE PLACE--WOT'S TO
BECOME OF _HUS_?"]

_Mr. William Sikes, Junior, loquitur_:--

Well, I _ham_ blowed! I say, look 'ere, you NANCY!
Old Gog and Magog _is_ woke up at last!
Goin' to hilluminate the City. Fancy!!
When this yer 'Lectric light is fairly cast
On every nook and corner, hole and entry
Of London, you and me is done, to-rights.
A Slop at every street-end standin' sentry,
Won't spile our game like lots o' 'Lectric Lights.

The Lights o' London? Yah! That's bin all boko.
Were London _lighted_, how could you and me
Garotte a swell, or give a tight 'un toko?
We ain't got arf a chance where coves can _see_.
'Tis darkness plays our game, and we've 'ad plenty,
But this means mischief, or my name ain't BILL.
Wy, not one pooty little plant in twenty
Could we pull orf if _light_ spiled pluck and skill.

It's beastly, NAN, that's wot it is. Wy, blimy,
Narrer ill-lighted streets is our best friends.
Yer dingy nooks and slums, sombre and slimy,
Is gifts wot Prowidence most kyindly sends
To give hus chaps a chance of perks and pickins;
But if the Town's chock-full of "arc" and "glow,"
With you and me, NAN, it will play the dickens.
We must turn 'onest, NAN, and _that_'s no go!

'Ang Science! Ile lamps and old Charlies--bless 'em!--
Wos good for trade, _our_ trade. Ah! if my dad
Could see 'ow Larnin', Law, and Light oppress 'em,
Our good old cracksmen-gangs, he'd go stark mad.
As for the _Hartful Dodger_ and old _Fagin_,
Ah! they're well