owded meeting at Islington, on the question of granting a theatrical
license, the papers state that the judges declined at first, but upon the
urgent appeal of an advocate, '_the bench gave way_.' Are we to understand
from this that the opposition fell to the ground?' In 'PUNCH'S Almanac'
for 1844, we find among other side-remarks, the annexed: under May
seventh: 'WASHINGTON IRVING on his way to Madrid as American Ambassador,
is entertained in London, 1842. America takes the hand of Spain, and puts
her best _pen_ into it.' 'June sixth: The first cargo of ice comes from
America, 1843, for the relief of those who had burnt their fingers with
Pennsylvania bonds.' 'Time is money; but it doesn't follow that man is a
capitalist who has a great quantity of it on his hands.' PUNCH'S 'Literary
Intelligence' is very full. From it we gather that the author of the
'Mothers,' 'Wives,' 'Maids,' and 'Daughters' of England has another work
in press, entitled '_The Grandmothers of England_.' 'No grandmother's
education will be complete till she has read and re-read 'The Grandmothers
of England.' The book is the very best guide to oval suction extant.' So
says an '_Evening Paper_.' . . . WE should be glad to be informed of _the
name_ of any real or pretended lover of the turf and its manifold
interests, or of an admirer of one of the most entertaining weekly
journals on this continent, who could ask _more_ than is offered by the
'_Spirit of the Times_' to all new subscribers to that widely-popular
sheet; being no less than any five of those fine large quarto engravings
on steel, from original paintings, of Col. JOHNSON and M'lle AUGUSTA,
among 'us humans,' and among our four-footed friends 'of the lower house,'
Ripton, Confidence, Boston, Wagner, Monarch, Leviathan, Argyle,
Black-Maria, Grey-Eagle, Shark, Hedgeford, John Bascombe, and
Monmouth-Eclipse. On the second day of March a new volume commences; when
we hope that this accredited organ of the sporting world, which has raised
the prices of blood-stock in this country beyond all precedent, and which
in its literary and dramatic departments is without a rival in this or any
other country, will take a long lease of a healthful existence, and go on
'prospering and to prosper.' . . . THE reader will be amused we think with
the '_Veritable Sea-Story_,' told by our friend HARRY FRANCO, in a species
of poetry run mad, in preceding pages. He writes us: 'I send you an epic
poem for the KNICKERBO