“Here it is; I've found it out. Listen to this: 'The Press, Friday, August 10. The magnificent ourang-outang that Captain Bubbleton is about to present to the Lady-Lieutenant--' No, that is n't it; it must be in Faulkner. Ay, here we have it: 'In Captain Bubbleton's forthcoming volume, which we have been favored with a private perusal of, a very singular account is given of the gigantic mouse found in Candia, which grows to the size of a common mastiff--'No, that 's not it. You 've heard of that, Tom, though, have n't you?” “Never,” said I, trying to repress a smile. “I 'm amazed at that; never heard of my curious speculations about the Candian mouse! The fellow has a voice like a human being; you 'd hear him crying in the woods, and you 'd swear it was a child. I 've a notion that the Greeks took their word 'mousikos' from this fellow. But that 's not what I 'm looking for; no, but here it is. This is squib No. 1: 'Tuesday morning. We are at length enabled to state that the young gentleman who took such a prominent part in defending the military against the savage and murderous attack of the mob in the late riot in College Green is now out of danger; being removed to Captain Bubbleton's quarters in George's Street Barracks, he was immediately trepanned--'” “Eh? trepanned!” “No, you weren't trepanned; but Pepper said you might have been though, and he 'd just as soon do it as not; so I put in trepanned. 'The pia mater was fortunately not cut through.' That you don't understand; but no matter,--hem, hem! 'Congestion of--' hem, hem! 'In our next, we hope to give a still more favorable report.' Then here's the next: 'To the aide-decamp sent to inquire after the “hero of College Green,” the answer this morning was, “Better; able to sit up.”' Well, here we go,--No. 3: 'His Excellency mentioned this morning at the Privy Council the satisfaction he felt at being able to announce that Mr. (from motives of delicacy we omit the name) is now permitted to take some barley gruel, with a spoonful of old Madeira. The Bishop of Ferns and Sir Boyle Roach both left their cards yesterday at the barracks.' I waited a day or two after this; but--would you believe it?--no notice was taken; not even the Opposition papers said a word, except some insolent rascal in 'The Press' asks, 'Can you tell your readers, Are we to have anything more from Captain Bubbleton?' So then I resolved to come out in force, and here you see the result: 'Friday, 20th. It is now our gratifying task to announce the complete restoration of the young gentleman whose case has, for some weeks past, been the engrossing topic of conversation of all ranks and classes, from the table of the Viceroy to the humble denizen of Mud Island. Mr. Burke is the only son and heir to the late Matthew Burke, of Cremore, county of Galway. His family have been long distinguished for their steady, uncompromising loyalty; nor is the hereditary glory of their house likely to suffer in the person