agitation going on among the cats of England. The grievance is this: A man can’t make a hole in his house for the cat to pass in and out to mouse or visit, without the said hole being surcharged as a window. This is a wrong done upon the cats of the country; but whether done out of sympathy with the rats or not, let Sir James Graham answer. However, one comfort will come of cheap glass: folks who choose to visit museums and such public places, may break what they like of the material at a decreased cost, for the pleasure. Before it was bad enough, nothing, according to the law, being worth more than five pounds; so any malicious or morbid scoundrel (or both) might smash any rare piece of antiquity, and handing to the magistrate any sum over five pounds, bid him take the change out of that. I think a club might be formed for certain young chaps about town, to be called “The Independent Smashers.” They might subscribe to a common fund to pay fines; and each in turn draw for the pleasure of a bit of destruction. With the duty taken off the article, it would be remarkably cheap sport. However, there is no doubt of it, that Peel has got great glory by taking off this tax. A good deal of his reputation as a minister will be looked upon as glass; such side of his reputation in the eyes of an admiring country to be always “kept upwards.” We are to have sugar, too, at about three-halfpence a pound cheaper; which Mrs Hedgehog tells me will allow us to save at least sixpence a week: however, what we shall have to pay to protect the West Indians, she, poor soul, never dreams of, and I should be a brute to tell her. Therefore--poor thing!--she may now and then toast Sir Robert in her Twankay, without thinking of the £140,000 we lose in the other way. Then again, what we shall save in cotton is wonderful! The auctioneers, too, are all right. They are to knock down at so much for life, instead of taking out a yearly licence. It is thought that this enlarged piece of statesmanship came about out of compliment to George Robins, who, in one of his familiar letters to the Premier, said he’d rather have it so. However, everybody says Sir Robert Peel’s in for life. He’s married Downing Street, and nothing but death can them part. One thing’s certain, he’s got a thumping surplus. And when any man in England gets that, folks are not very particular how he’s come by it. So no more at present from your affectionate brother-in-law, JUNIPER HEDGEHOG. LETTER VII.--_To John Squalid, Weaver, Stockton._