State of Knocker.—Peripatetic—moved from our house to the next—remained till it roused the family—returned to its own door, and became duplicated—wouldn’t wake the house-porter till five. N.B. Found I had used my own thumb for a sounding-plate, and had bruised my nail awfully. Nov. 14.—Devoted the day to soda-water and my tailor’s bill—gave a draught for the amount, and took another on my own account. Nov. 15.—Lectured by the “governor”—left the house savage—met the Marquess—got very drunk unconsciously—fancied myself a merman, and that the gutter in the Haymarket was the Archipelago—grew preposterous, and felt that I should like to be run over—thought I was waltzing with Cerito, but found I was being carried on a stretcher to the station- house—somebody sent somewhere for bail, and somebody bailed me. State of Knocker.—Very indistinct—then became uncommonly like the “governor” in his nightcap—could NOT reach it—presume it was filial affection that prevented me—knocked of its own accord, no doubt agitated by sympathy—reverberated in my ears all night, and left me with a confounded head-ache in the morning. The above examples are sufficient to show the variability of this singular article. Formerly the knocker was devoted entirely to the menial occupation of announcing, by a single dab, or a variation of raps, the desire of persons on the door-step to communicate with the occupants of the interior of a mansion. Modern genius has elevated it into a source of refined pleasure and practical humour, affording at the same time employment to the artisan, excitement to the gentleman, and broken heads and dislocations of every variety to the police! We will now proceed to the details of an event which PUNCH alone is worthy to record:—