After a careful scrutiny of the Hibernian advertisements, we are compelled to confess that we have not met with any blunders that more nearly resemble our notion of an Irish bull than one which, some years ago, appeared in our English papers. It was the title to an advertisement of a washing machine, in these words: “Every _Man_ his own _Washerwoman_!” We have this day, Nov. 19, 1807, seen the following: “This day were published, Memoirs of the Life of Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, with a _new edition_ of her Poems, some of which have _never_ before appeared.” And an eye-witness assures us, that lately he saw an advertisement in the following terms stuck up on the walls of an English coffee-house: “This coffee-house removed up-stairs!” A Roman emperor used to draw his stairs up after him every night into his bedchamber, and we have heard of throwing a house out of the windows; but drawing a whole house up into itself is new. How can we account for such a blunder, in an advertisement on the wall of an English coffee-house, except by supposing that it was penned by an Irish waiter? If that were the case, it would an admirable example of an Irish bull! and therefore we had best take it for granted. Let not any conscientious person be startled at the mode of reasoning by which we have convicted an imaginary Irish waiter of a real bull: it is at least as good, if not better logic, than that which was successfully employed in the time of the _popish plot_, to convict an Irish physician of forgery. The matter is thus recorded by L’Estrange. The Irish physician “was charged with writing a treasonable libel, but denied the thing, and appealed to the unlikeness of the characters. It was agreed that there was no resemblance at all in the hands; but asserted that the doctor had two hands; his _physic hand_ and his _plot hand_, and the one not a jot like the other. Now this was the doctor’s plot hand, and it was insisted that, because it was not like one of his hands, it must be like the other.” By this convenient mode of reasoning, an Irishman may, at any time, be convicted of any crime, or of any absurdity. But what have we next in our newspaper?--“Murder, Robbery, and Reward.” This seems a strange connexion of things, according to our vulgar notions of distributive justice; but we are told that the wicked shall have their _reward_ even in this world; and we suppose it is upon this principle, that over the stocks in a town in Ireland there appears this inscription: “A reward for vagabonds.”