Upon proceeding further in our advertisement, which begins with “Murder, Robbery, and Reward,” we find, however, that contrary to the just expectations raised by the title, the reward is promised, not to the robbers and murderers, but to those who shall discover and prosecute them to conviction. Here we were led into error by that hasty mode of elision which sometimes obtains in the titles even of our English law processes; as sci-fa, fi-fa, qui-tam, &c.; names which, to preserve the glorious uncertainty of the law, never refer to the sense, but to the first words of the writs. In our newspaper, a formidable list of unanimous resolutions of various committees and corps succeeds to the advertisement of murder, robbery, and reward; and we have, at the close of each day’s business, thanksgivings, in various formulas, for the very proper, upright, or spirited behaviour of our worthy, gallant, or respected chairman. Now that a man may behave properly, or sit upright in a chair, we can readily comprehend; but what are we to understand by a _spirited_ behaviour in a chair? Perhaps it alludes to the famous duel fought by a gouty Irish gentleman in his arm chair. As the gallant chairman actually in that position shot his adversary, it behoves us to _understand_ the meaning of spirited behaviour in the chair. We may, however, venture to hint, fas est et ab hoste doceri, that in the publication of corps and committees, this formula should be omitted--“Resolved _unanimously_ (with only _one_ dissentient voice).” Here the obloquy, meant to rest on the one dissentient voice, unfortunately falls upon the publishers of the disgrace, exposing them to the ridicule of resolving an Irish bull. If this be a bull, however, we are concerned to find it is matched by that of the government of Munich, who published a catalogue of forbidden books, and afterwards, under heavy penalties, forbade the reading of the catalogue. But this might be done in the hurry occasioned by the just dread of revolutionary principles. What shall we say for the blunder of a French academician, in a time of profound peace, who gave it as his opinion, that nothing should be read in the public sittings of the academy “par dela ce qui est imposé par les statuts: il motivait son avis en disant--En fait _d’inutilités_ il ne faut que _le nécessaire_.” If this speech had been made by a member of the Royal Irish academy, it would have had the honour to be noticed all over England as a bull. _The honour to be noticed_, we say, in imitation of the exquisitely polite expression of a correspondent of the English Royal Society, who talks of “the earthquake that had the honour to be noticed by the Royal Society.”