Westminster-hall will of course be furnished with a floor for the use of the lawyers, and the juries in waiting; the counsel will show where an action may lie, the plaintiff will naturally go against the defendant, and the defendant will as naturally move for a new trial. The town-halls throughout the kingdom will be similarly supplied. But may not patent-ice pavements be laid down in our popular thoroughfares? We have asphalte promenades and wooden highways; but what are such inventions as these to the convenience of ice-pavements, and the luxury of skating down Cheapside to be early on 'Change! What a ninth of November will that be which shows us the two Sheriffs skating away to Guildhall after the new Lord Mayor, followed by the Court of Aldermen and the Companies. A procession on skates! the Cabinet Ministers, the Judges,--the sword-bearer, and the men in armour--all skating like Dutchmen! [If herein we exaggerate, we have not exaggerated the ingenuity of Mr. Bradwell, to whom we wish a signal success.] DUNS DEMONSTRATED. BY EDWARD HOWARD, AUTHOR OF "RATTLIN THE REEFER." The dark ages of barbarism are generally supposed to have been more prolific of monsters; but modern times,--the times of civilization and refinement--have far excelled them in this respect. What are your giants, your anthropophagi, and "men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders," as monsters, compared with that maximum of monstrosity, _a dun_? He is an iniquity, who may claim Impudence and Usury for his father and mother. He is a devouring Sin, a rampant atrocity, a thing unendurable. And then the double duplicity of the monster! He makes his first approaches towards his victim smiling--he actually smiles!--he offers to lend you money, the angel! or bestow upon you his goods; and then he is nothing but the beneficent assister of the poor: for every man who condescends to be in debt must be poor--if in want, pitiably poor in fact; if not in want, poor in spirit beyond the approach of contempt. But when his meshes have once entangled his prey, this seraph stands forth in the sublimity of the horrible--THE DUN! Come, as we are in a free nation, let us talk about the chains of slavery, tyranny's oppression, the _morgue_ of aristocracy, and the _fierté_ of those in authority; shall we not rise in arms against them "'Sblood! shall we not be rebels?" Stop. Let us first conquer a tyrant far stronger than any of these--a despot more despotic than any autocrat who ever existed. This persecutor violates all the sanctities of private life; he is with us at our meals, he penetrates the closet, even the bedchamber affords us no asylum. There is no sanctuary from the dun. Death? That may be, yet we know not. We should hesitate the accepting a grave _gratis_, even were it a mausoleum, near the "remains" of a dun. Nobody can answer for the force of habit.