One _William Simmons_, a starving tailor, in a perishing condition, attempts to cut his throat. He inflicts upon himself a wound which, "under the immediate assistance of the surgeon of the Compter," is soon healed; and the offender being convalescent, is doomed to undergo the cutting wisdom of Sir PETER LAURIE. Hear the alderman "Don't you know _that that sort_ of murder (suicide) _is as bad as any other?_" If such be the case--and we would as soon doubt the testimony of Balaam's quadruped as Sir PETER--we can only say, that the law has most shamefully neglected to provide a sufficing punishment for the enormity. Sir PETER speaks with the humility of true wisdom, or he would never have valued his own throat for instance--that throat enriched by rivulets of turtle soup, by streams of city wine and city gravies--at no more than the throat of a hungry tailor. There never in our opinion was a greater discrepancy of windpipe. Sir PETER'S throat is the organ of wisdom--whilst the tailor's throat, by the very fact of his utter want of food, is to him an annoying superfluity. And yet, says Sir PETER by inference, "It is _as bad_, William Simmons, to cut your own throat, as to cut mine!" If true Modesty have left other public bodies, certainly she is to be found in the court of aldermen. Sir PETER proceeds to discourse of the mysteries of life and death in a manner that shows that the executions of his shrievalty were not lost upon his comprehensive spirit. Suicides, however, have engaged his special consideration; for he says-- "Suicides and attempts, or apparent attempts, to commit suicide, very much increase, I regret to say. _I know that a morbid humanity exists_, and does much mischief as regards the practice. _I shall not encourage attempts of the kind_, but shall punish them; and I sentence you to the treadmill for a month, as a rogue and vagabond. I shall look _very narrowly at the cases_ of persons brought before me on such charges." Sir PETER has, very justly, no compassion for the famishing wretch stung and goaded "to jump the life to come." Why should he? Sir PETER is of that happy class of men who have found this life too good a thing to leave. "They call this world a bad world," says ROTHSCHILD on a certain occasion; "for my part, I do not know of a better." And ROTHSCHILD was even a greater authority than Sir PETER LAURIE on the paradise of L s. d.