There is a curious paragraph in the _Times_ of 23 March: “BINDING OF SATAN.—During the past two or three weeks, a number of persons have been going round the streets, on the Surrey side of the water, wearing belts, like those worn by the fire brigade, on which passages from the Scriptures are painted, carrying with them an inkhorn and long sheets of paper, soliciting signatures to what they pretend to be a petition to Heaven, for the binding of Satan, the Prince of darkness. So eager are those persons to get the paper signed, that men, women, and children are stopped indiscriminately, and requested to sign. Those who are too young to sign, or unable to write their names, have the same done for them by the men, who do not attempt to disguise the fact of belonging to the followers of Joanna Southcote. Upon several occasions, a great deal of confusion has been created by the parties, for they generally manage to go about with knots of forty or fifty persons; and, occasionally, discussions ensue, which are calculated to bring the Scriptures into perfect ridicule. One person, more intelligent than the persons who are hawking the petitions about, inquired who it is that will present the petition? when the man replied, with the greatest coolness, that as soon as a sufficient number of names are attached to the petition, it will be presented to the Throne of Mercy by Joanna Southcote herself. Surely it is high time that such exhibitions were put down by the police.” Early in April a circular from the Home Secretary was forwarded to the magistrates at the various gaols, telling them that, in consequence of the suspension of transportation of male convicts to Van Diemen’s Land, it would be requisite for them to make immediate provision for the confinement and employment, in this country, of a great number of such offenders. On the 14th of April the Queen paid a visit of inspection to the New House of Lords, and, on the next day, the Peers took possession of it, and transacted business there for the first time. Talk of Gossip, was there ever such food for it as the arrival of Jenny Lind—it was a furore, a madness. She arrived in London late on the afternoon of Ap. 17, and was present in the evening at the performance at Her Majesty’s Theatre. On May 4 she made her first appearance on the Stage in England—in this Theatre—where she played in “Robert le Diable,” and, from that moment, until the end of the season, nothing else was thought of—nothing else talked of—but Jenny Lind, and it was no short-lived fit of enthusiasm, for she was _the_ favourite of the public until her retirement; her beautiful voice and simplicity of manner charming everyone, from Royalty downwards. Unfortunately her dêbut was somewhat marred by a pecuniary squabble between her and Bunn, the operatic poet, a rival _impresario_, Lumley, having secured her services. Here is Punch’s version of the squabble: “JENNY-LINDEN.