in a gig along a Welsh
high-road, merely for the satisfaction of being stared at? It was almost
worthy of Barnum. Or who, with less assurance, could have played so
admirably on the credulity of a lady and daughters fresh from the
country as he did, at the trial of Lord Melville? The lady, who stood
next to him, was, naturally, anxious to understand the proceedings, and
betrayed her ignorance at once by a remark which she made to her
daughter about the procession of the Lords into the House. When the
bishops entered in full episcopal costume, she applied to Hook to know
who were 'those gentlemen?' 'Gentlemen,' quoth Hook, with charming
simplicity; 'ladies, I think you mean; at any rate, those are the
dowager peeresses in their own right.' Question followed question as the
procession came on, and Theodore indulged his fancy more and more. At
length the Speaker, in full robes, became the subject of inquiry. 'And
pray, sir, who is that fine looking person?'--'That, ma'am, is Cardinal
Wolsey,' was the calm and audacious reply. This was too much even for
Sussex; and the lady drew herself up in majestic indignation. 'We know
better than that, sir,' she replied: 'Cardinal Wolsey has been dead many
a good year.' Theodore was unmoved. 'No such thing, my dear madam,' he
answered, without the slightest sign of perturbation: 'I know it has
been generally reported so in the country, but without the slightest
foundation; the newspapers, you know, will say anything.'

But the hoax of hoaxes, the one which filled the papers of the time for
several days, and which, eventually, made its author the very prince of
hoaxsters, if such a term can be admitted, was that of Berners Street.
Never, perhaps, was so much trouble expended, or so much attention
devoted, to so frivolous an object. In Berners Street there lived an
elderly lady, who, for no reason that can be ascertained, had excited
the animosity of the young Theodore Hook, who was then just of age. Six
weeks were spent in preparation, and three persons engaged in the
affair. Letters were sent off in every direction, and Theodore Hook's
autograph, if it could have any value, must have been somewhat low in
the market at that period, from the number of applications which he
wrote. On the day in question he and his accomplices seated themselves
at a window in Berners Street, opposite to that unfortunate Mrs.
Tottenham, of No 54, and there enjoyed the fun. Advertisements,
announcements, lett