Messrs. Stephens, Heraud, and Co., to exhibit, gratis, a Syncretic Tragedy, with fireworks and tumbling, according to law, between the acts; to be followed by a lecture on the Unactable Drama. CAPITAL ILLUSTRATION. At the recent fracas in Pall Mall, between Captain Fitzroy and Mr. Shepherd, the latter, like his predecessor of old, the “Gentle Shepherd,” performed sundry vague evolutions with a silver- mounted cane, and requested Captain Fitzroy to consider himself horsewhipped. Not entertaining quite so high an opinion of his adversary’s imaginative powers, the Captain floored the said descendant of gentleness, thereby ably illustrating the precise difference of the “real and ideal.” [pg 89] THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE. CHAPTER II. SHOWS HOW AGAMEMNON BECAME DISGUSTED WITH NUMBER ONE, AND THE AWFUL CONSEQUENCES WHICH SUCCEEDED. A man holds a bass drum on his back in the shape of a P oor old John’s alarm was succeeded by astonishment, for without speaking a word, Agamemnon bounced into his bed-chamber. He thought the room the most miserable-looking room he had ever entered, though the floor was covered with a thick Turkey carpet, a bright fire was blazing in the grate, and everything about seemed fashioned for comfort. He threw himself into an easy chair, and kicking off one of his pumps, crossed his legs, and rested his elbow on the table. He looked at his bed—it was a French one—a mountain of feathers, covered with a thick, white Marseilles quilt, and festooned over with a drapery of rich crimson damask. “I’ll have a four-post to-morrow,” growled Collumpsion; “French beds are mean-looking things, after all. Stuffwell has the fellow-chair to this—one chair does look strange! I wonder it has never struck me before; but it is surprising—what—strange ide—as a man—has”—and Collumpsion fell asleep. It was broad day when Collumpsion awoke; the fire had gone out, and his feet were as cold as ice. He (as he is married there’s no necessity for concealment)—he swore two or three naughty oaths, and taking off his clothes, hurried into bed in the hope of getting warm. “How confoundedly cold I am—sitting in that chair all night, too—ridiculous. If I had had a—I mean, if I hadn’t been alone, that wouldn’t have happened; she would have waked me.” She—what the deuce made him use the feminine pronoun! At two o’clock he rose and entered his breakfast-room. The table was laid as usual—one large cup and saucer, one plate, one egg-cup, one knife, and one fork! He did not know wherefore, but he felt to want the number increased. John brought up a slice of broiled salmon and one egg. Collumpsion got into a passion, and ordered a second edition. The morning was rainy, so Collumpsion remained at home, and employed himself by kicking about the ottoman, and mentally multiplying all the single articles in his establishment by two.