lashing which Dickens intended to inflict
upon that particular public grievance." It may safely be suggested that
this was the only occasion on which, after his reputation was made,
Dickens was ever "declined with thanks." This MS., it may be added, was
sold at Sotheby's on the 9th of July, 1889, and was knocked down for
L16.

[Illustration: CHARLES DICKENS' SOLE (AND REJECTED) CONTRIBUTION.
(_By Permission of Mr. F. G. Kitton and Mr F. Sabin._)]

The curious fact remains that Dickens, who was the intimate friend of
_Punch's_ Editor for the best part of their working lives, whose
publishers were _Punch's_ proprietors as well as the publishers and part
proprietors of the "Daily News," which Dickens edited, never contributed
to _Punch_, nor was in any way identified with it, save, indeed, with
its Dinner-Table. At that function he was at one time a frequent
visitor, and also was he present when at the Prince of Wales's wedding a
brilliant company assembled at the publishing office to see the
_cortege_ go by. It was on that occasion that Sothern, one of the
invited guests, arrived on the other side of the way, but, owing to the
denseness of the crowd, was utterly unable to force his way across. His
friends caught sight of him, and pointed to a policeman. Sothern took
the hint. "Get me through," he whispered, "and I'll give you a
sovereign." "Afraid I can't," said the man regretfully, "but I'll try."
A prodigious effort was made, but unsuccessfully, loud protests going up
from the packed crowd. Sothern was at his wits' end; he could not bear
the thought of losing such a dinner in such a company, but his invention
did not fail him. "Look here," he said to the constable; "put your
handcuffs on me, drag me through, and land me at that door, and I'll
give you _two_ pounds." The man seized the idea and Sothern together; he
slipped on the handcuffs, and with a loud "Make way, there!" dragged his
prize through a mass of humanity that was only too happy to assist the
law as far as might be; and after a few moments of crushing, pushing,
and general rough handling, the dishevelled comedian was successfully
landed at _Punch's_ publishing door. "You'll find the money in my
waistcoat pocket," said Sothern. But he did not observe that, after the
policeman had secured it, a stealthy addition was made to the money in
the constabular palm by one of his _Punch_ friends; and only when the
man disappeared in the crowd did Sothern realise tha