names, size, horse-power, times of starting, and fares, of numberless steamers which ply within the limits of British seas. Whether, in short, he wishes to be conveyed five miles--from London to Greenwich--or three thousand--from Liverpool to New York--information equally conclusive is afforded him. The head of the second, or sometimes the third column, is interesting to a more extensive range of readers--namely, to the curious; for it is generally devoted to what may be called the romance of advertising. The advertisements which appear in that place are mysterious as melodramas, and puzzling as rebuses.” These incentives to curiosity will receive attention a little further on; meanwhile we will turn to those which are purely curious or eccentric. The record of these notices to the public is so extensive, and its ramifications so multifarious, that so far as those advertisements which simply contain blunders are concerned, we must be satisfied with a simple summary, and in many cases leave our readers to make their own comments. Here is a batch of those whose comicality is mainly dependent upon sins against the rules of English composition. We will commence with the reward offered for “a keyless lady’s gold watch,” which is, though, but a faint echo of the “green lady’s parasol” and the “brown silk gentleman’s umbrella” anecdotes; but the former we give as actually having appeared, while so far the two latter require verification. A lady advertises her desire to obtain a husband with “a Roman nose having strong religious tendencies.” A nose with heavenly tendencies we can imagine, but even then it would not be Roman. “A spinster particularly fond of children,” informs the public that she “wishes for two or three having none of her own.” Then a dissenter from grammar as well as from the Church Established wants “a young man to look after a horse of the Methodist persuasion;” a draper desires to meet with an assistant who would “take an active and energetic interest in a small first-class trade, and in a quiet family;” and a chemist requests that “the gentleman who left his stomach for analysis, will please call and get it, together with the result.” Theatrical papers actually teem with advertisements which, either from technology or an ignorance of literary law, are extremely funny, and sometimes alarming, and even the editorial minds seem at times to catch the infection. One of these journals, in a puff preliminary of a benefit, after announcing the names of the performers and a list of the performances, went on: “Of course every one will be there, and for the edification of those who are absent, a full report will be found in our next paper.” This is worthy of a place in any collection: “One pound reward--Lost, a cameo brooch, representing Venus and Adonis on the Drumcondra-road, about ten o’clock, on Tuesday evening.” And so is this: “The advertiser, having made an advantageous