4 p.m.--Giant Blunderbore lies in a hopeless state. He has again disregarded medical advice, and eaten solid food. Dr Smith is still in attendance. 8 p.m.--It is with the deepest regret that we have to announce the death of our esteemed patron Giant Blunderbore, which took place suddenly this evening, after a somewhat painful operation. Details are not yet forthcoming; but we expect to issue an extra double number to-morrow, with a coloured photograph of the deceased. As only a limited number will be printed, copies should be ordered early. The attention of advertisers is drawn to the present unusual opportunity. Latest.--Just as we go to press we hear that Dr Smith has been summoned to attend Giant Cormoran, who is ailing of a complaint which presents symptoms similar to those of the late Giant Blunderbore. From the _Scampingtonian_, July 27th. Dear Chappies,--No end of a go! Can't find my people high or low. People been sloping off all round. Fancy I know why now. On Monday I saw Blunderbore's door open as I passed, and I thought I'd pop in and see what he knew about it. He was sitting in his chair, looking jolly blue. "What's up, Blundy?" I said. "I'm awfully hungry," said he. "Why don't you have some grub?" I said. "Doctors won't let me," said he. "You see, a week ago I happened to eat something that disagreed with me. Between me and you," said he, "it was a knight in armour. I didn't mind the knight, but the armour gave me a very bad turn." "Do you know," said I, "that was my governor?" "My dear boy," said he, "I'm awfully sorry. I feel for you. I wish I hadn't done it--sincerely. But a fellow must live. Really, I sympathise with you; let me grasp your hand." "Not if I know it, you cad," said I; "and where's my mother?" "That's another thing that troubles me," said he. "Tell me, did she wear a brocaded silk gown with beads? Most unlucky for us both! Beads never did agree with me. It's a warning to both of us to be more particular. Really, you _must_ let me grasp your hand." "Not much!" said I. "Look here, Blunderbore, I mean to show you up. I'll let some of our fellows know about you, and you see if they don't make you sit up before long." "I feel much more like lying down," said he. "Would you mind handing me that medicine bottle?" "Don't you wish _you_ may get it!" said I, and cut. I told Jack Smith about it, and he was no end riled. I must say, I feel riled myself. It's specially awkward, because the mater had our return tickets in her pocket; and I can't get away from here. I wish you'd send me a sov., some of you. I'll square up after vac. Yours ever, Hugh a Pie. P.S.--Here's a go! Old Blunderbore's gone at last! Smith says it was the steel armour inside him that did it. Serves him jolly well right! From the _Giants' Bay Broadsheet_, July 29th.