in Grub Street, and dispatched post-haste to _Punch_ office. _Mr. P._,
however, had known me from a boy, and was not to be imposed upon.
He sent me back promptly, on Her Majesty's Service, warning me that,
unless I went off, I should probably be knocked on the head. Dear
EVERGREEN POLICINELLO! but not so evergreen as all that. He knows my
constitution won't stand these liberties. The desperadoes turn out to
be HORNBLOWER and HACKING, as I suspected. In defence they alleged I
had _struck_ them forcibly! _Mr. P._ vows he'll proceed against them
for nuisance--interfering with Ancient Lights.

_April 7_.--Very weak, from effects of yesterday. The heart taken
out of me. Consult my Doctor. To judge from the prints in his
waiting-room, I'm popular enough still with his patients. Says I'm
suffering from a bad attack of Printer's Devils, but can't make me
younger; replied that my desire was to be older. He looked grave, and
rejoined, "Impossible"; prescribed a course of Attic salts; as I came
out, met Sir WILFRID LAWSON. He declares I don't look a day older
than when he first knew me; but then, he's licensed to be sober on the
premises! Ah, how I love the House of Commons!

_April 8_.--Worn to a skeleton; sinking fast, but I'll die hard. Make
my will. Bequeath Autographs of TALLEYRAND and JOE MILLER to Madame
Tussaud's; everything else to be sold for the foundation of an
Asylum for Old Jokes. A knock at the door. Heaven help me!--_two_
Interviewers! "Come in," I said, with the conventional "cheery voice."
Anticipated the worst, but worse than I anticipated. HORNBLOWER and
HACKING are brooding over me; assert they have been sent by the LORD
MAYOR. "Thought Transference" again! Well, I should have committed
suicide, and now I can be released without crime. It won't last long.
If I might suggest my obsequies, I should like to be cremated in Type.
HACKING begs my blessing, and pretends to weep at hearing the last of
me. Hope I shan't ever have to haunt HORNBLOWER!

_Editor's Postscript_.--We have paid a pious visit to his last
Jesting-place; on the urn is inscribed,--

PLEASE TO FORGET THE GHOST OF THE SAME OLD JOKE.

* * * * *

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