"'I felt it with the last lodgers,' says the younger flea. 'They drank vile spirits, their blood was turpentine with, I fear, a dash of vitriol. How they lived at all, I know not. I always had the headache in the morning. Here however,' and the juvenile looked steadfastly down upon the plain of flesh, the wide champaign beneath him--'here we have promise of better fare.'" But Douglas Jerrold's best humour is usually rather in the narrative and general issue than in any sudden hits or surprises. His "Sketches of The English" are humorous and admirably drawn, but it would be difficult to produce a single striking passage out of them. One of the most amusing stories in his collection of "Cakes and Ale" is called "The Genteel Pigeons."--A newly married couple return home before the end of the honeymoon, but wish to keep their arrival secret. George Tomata, a connection of the family, but unknown to Pigeon, calls at the house, and is denied admittance by the servant, but Pigeon, happening to come down asks if he has any message of importance to transact-- "'Not in the least, no--not at all,' answered Tomata leisurely ascending the stairs, and with Mr Pigeon entering the drawing-room, 'So, the Pigeons are not at home yet eh?' "'Mr. and Mrs. Pigeon the day of their marriage,' answered Pigeon softly, 'went to Brighton.' "'Ha! well, that's not three weeks yet. Of course, Sir, you are intimate with Mr. Pigeon?' "'I have the pleasure, sir,' said Samuel. "'You lodge here, no doubt? Excuse me, although I have not with you the pleasure--and doubtless it is a very great one--of knowing Pigeon, still I am very intimate with his little wife.' "'Indeed, Sir. I never heard her name--' "'I dare say not, Sir; I dare say not. Oh very intimate; we wore petticoats together. Baby companions, sir--baby companions--used to bite the same pear.' "'Really sir,'--and Pigeon shifted in his seat--'I was not aware of so early and delicate a connection between yourself and Mrs. Pigeon.' "'We were to have been married, yes, I may say, the wedding-ring was over the first joint of her finger.' "'And pray, sir,' asked Pigeon, with a face of crimson, 'pray, sir, what accident may have drawn the ring off again?' "'You see, sir,' said George Tomata, arranging his hair by an opposite mirror, 'my prospects lay in India--in India, sir. Now Lotty--' "'Who, sir?' exclaimed Pigeon, wrathfully. "'Charlotte,' answered Tomata. 'I used to call her Lotty, and she--he! he!--she used to call me 'Love-apple.' You may judge how far we were both gone. For when a woman begins to play tricks with a man's name you may be sure she begins to look upon it as her future property.'