At one time it struck him that it would not be a bad plan to do as Aladdin did when he lost his “wonderful lamp,” and go round the town crying, “New breeches for old ones;” but, on second thoughts, he perceived that, however feasible such a plan might have been in Bagdad, it was far from practicable in London; for he felt satisfied, from the universal habit of wearing such articles of dress among the male portion of the metropolitan population—(and, indeed, among not a few of the married females)—that the Londoners’ love of a good bargain, no matter at whose cost, would render them so particularly anxious to make the exchange, that the business he would be likely to do in one street alone would be sufficient, not only to ruin him in pocket, but to break his back with the burden. If the lady denizens of the capital were to be attracted to the linen-drapers’ establishments, solely by the enlivening inducement that somebody was to be ruined by their custom—if, like the Hindoo widows, they delighted in “awful sacrifices,” (at any other persons’ expense than their own) how eager, thought the philosophic Cursty, would wives of London be to deal with him, when they imagined that they could breech their husbands by stripping him of all he had. After revolving in his mind many equally sagacious plans for the recovery of his precious pantaloons, Mr. Cursty decided that, perhaps, the wisest course to pursue, under all the circumstances, would be to return to his temporary domicile, and there consult with his wife as to the future mode of action. Accordingly, he hailed the first omnibus travelling Strandward, that passed him, and depositing himself within it, was once more on his way towards home. * * * * * While Mr. Sandboys, fagged out with his unprofitable and wearisome day’s work, is dozing away the distance from Whitechapel to the Strand in the corner of the long “short stage,” let us take advantage of that uneventful interval to communicate the circumstances that had occurred during his absence to mar again the peace and happiness of his family. Some three or four hours had elapsed after that gentleman’s departure from home, when Mrs. Fokesell “bounced” breathless into the back attic, which now constituted the sitting-room, bed-room, dressing-room, and kitchen, of the united Sandboys. “Oh, mum,” the landlady exclaimed, gasping as she wiped her forehead with the corner of her dirty pink cotton apron; “O—oh, mum! here’s a man come from the Station-’us.” “From t’ Station-house!” echoed Mrs. Sandboys, who had hardly had time to recover the shock of the sudden entry of Mrs. Fokesell; but, on second thoughts, imagining the messenger had brought her tidings of the missing garments, she added: “So then, thank guidness, they’ve caught t’ man with t’ flowers and t’ trousers at last.”