exquisite woodcut of the astonished cat viewing herself in the polished Hessian, which made the fortune of Warren. But in those days tradesmen only tried their wings for the flight. It was left to the present time to prove what unlimited confidence in the power of the advertisement will effect, and a short list of the sums _annually_ spent in this item by some of the most adventurous dealers will perhaps startle our readers. "Professor" Holloway, Pills, etc. £30,000 Moses and Son 10,000 Rowland and Co. (Macassar oil, &c.) 10,000 Dr. De Jongh (cod-liver oil) 10,000 Heal and Sons (bedsteads and bedding) 6,000 Nicholls (tailor) 4,500 It does seem indeed incredible that one house should expend upon the mere advertising of quack pills and ointment a sum equal to the entire revenue of many a German principality. Can it possibly pay? asks the astonished reader. Let the increasing avenue of assistants, to be seen "from morn to dewy eve" wrapping up pills in the "professor's" establishment within the shadow of Temple Bar, supply the answer.[2] Vastly as the press of this country has expanded of late years, it has proved insufficient to contain within its limits the rapid current of puffing which has set in. Advertisements now overflow into our omnibuses, our cabs, our railway carriages, and our steamboats. Madame Tussaud pays 90_l._ monthly to the Atlas Omnibus Company alone for the privilege of posting her bills in their vehicles. They are inked upon the pavement, painted in large letters under the arches of the bridges and on every dead wall. Lloyd's weekly newspaper is stamped on the "full Guelph cheek" of the plebeian penny; the emissaries of Moses shower perfect libraries through the windows of the carriages which ply from the railway stations; and, as a crowning fact, Thackeray, in his "Journey from Cornhill to Cairo," tells us that Warren's blacking is painted up over an obliterated inscription to Psammetichus on Pompey's Pillar!