It was a happy evening, but over it was the shadow of death. Not many weeks after I was called to his bedside, where he lay ardently desiring release from his sufferings, and assured that his lingerings here could only mean an additional burden on his wife, already staggering under a far too heavy load. I can never forget his parting words to me, "If I could only die. I have done with this world, I am of no more use here, and why I should live on puzzles me. I will so gladly go and rest." I bade him farewell and left him, to hear the next day that he had gone to that rest which he so ardently desired. Now, I might if it were desirable give a great many more instances of the delight and satisfaction I had at that time, if it were not that I feel that these pages lack so plentifully that characteristic so earnestly, so eagerly demanded to-day, humour. I have no quarrel with this demand, for I love humour, and believe that no one has a keener appreciation of it than myself. But when I look at the majority of the alleged humorous productions of the day, I am reluctantly compelled to say that I do not see where their humour lies. I will not mention any names I see at the foot of alleged humorous articles to-day, which give me a feeling of nausea, and I wonder mightily how anyone can be found to read, much less buy the futile piffle that is printed, and that, too, in our leading magazines and newspapers. One leading exception I will make and gladly break my rule for, Mr Pett Ridge, bless him, who never makes a mistake, whose humour is sweet and true, and who, I believe from his writings, all of which I eagerly read, is as good a man as they make nowadays. As I only know this gentleman by casual meetings at dinners, I cannot be accused of log-rolling; indeed, I know how he would heartily repudiate any effort of the kind on my part. Now, in my present peregrinations in search of those to whom I was indebted, I was unable to trace two or three, notably the gentleman in the Adelphi from whom I had borrowed £10 at an interest of £1 per month. And so, when the business was over, and I visited my friend Mr Hardhat with the story of my efforts, he smiled grimly and said, "They'll suspend your discharge for two years, you see if they don't." I said nothing, because I did not greatly care; but I felt that if they did, it would only be on a par with all that I had hitherto seen and known of the business. However we made the application for discharge in due form, presenting with it documentary evidence that all the debts had been paid, with the exception of those two or three that we could not find before mentioned, the total amount remaining unpaid being a mere trifle.