The paper on "Old Q.," in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, by EDWARD WALFORD, M.A., is interesting up to a certain point, but after that disappointing. "_Oliver_," says the Baron, impersonating _Oliver_ for the time being, "asks for more." And much the same observation have I to make on another paper about _Irish Characters in English Dramatic Literature_, by W.J. LAWRENCE. Although the writer ranges from SHAKESPEARE to BOUCICAULT, and mentions authors, plays, and actors, yet he has omitted HUDSON who, after POWER and, before BOUCICAULT, was, in his own particular line, one of the best delineators of Irish character on the stage. He played chivalrous parts that BOUCICAULT would not have attempted. There are historical Irish types still to be represented; and when Irish melodrama, with its secret plots, murders, wicked land-agents, jovial muscular-christian priests, comic male peasants, and pretty and virtuous female ditto, shall have taken a rest for a while, Irish Comedy may yet have its day. [Illustration: "_Scin Loeca_."] The very best letter I have ever seen on this important subject appeared August 9th, written by that eminent author, who makes a vain attempt at concealing his identity under the signature of "ARCHIMILLION," and addressed to the Great Journalistic Twin Brethren, the Editorial Proprietors and Proprietorial Editors of _The Whirlwind_, whose Court Circular reporter (this by the way) might appropriately adopt the historic name of "BLASTUS, the King's Chamberlain." The argument in ARCHIMILLION'S remarkable letter is decidedly sound. But surely he is wrong in supposing that the _astral reverberation of the podasma_ (one in six) _could possibly be ratiocinated on the coleoptic intensity!_ Perhaps he will deny that he ever said so. _But did he mean it?_ To me this has been the sweet familiar study of a lifetime, and, without boastful egoism, I may say I am considered, by all who know anything about the matter, a first-rate authority on this subject, or on any other, says THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. * * * * * TIT FOR TAT! (_FROM A HISTORY OF ENGLAND, TO BE WRITTEN IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY._) The Intelligent Foreigner carefully picked his way amongst the ruins to Downing Street, and was soon in consultation with the Premier. "This merely is a call of courtesy," he observed; "of course I am not in the least bound to give you notice, but think it civil to do so." The British Premier bowed, as if inviting farther particulars. "Well, O-HANG-HIT and I have settled everything," continued the Visitor; "he takes the Isle of Wight, while I assume the Protectorate of Scotland, India, and the Channel Islands." "What!" exclaimed the British Premier, aghast at the information. "And what if we resist?"