Why, Tom, my boy, I was only thinking this morning, as I was leaning over London Bridge, hoping an ill wind would blow me something good, that I would start a railway, and so make my own Accidents, and write them, for greater accuracy, on the spot. I might contract with the different papers to supply them cheap all the year round. But then I recollected, and a burning tear bedewed my eye, that that line of luck was all over, that the poor stags were fairly run off their legs, and that an end had been put for ever to Capel Court. Twelve months sooner, and the thing might have been done. I only wish I was in Hudson's shoes, that's all. What a deal of money I would make, 'lining—wouldn't I, just! Well, Tom, I must leave you. The neighborhood has just been thrown into the greatest consternation by an "Enormous Gooseberry." I run to measure it with an India-rubber band, for that stretches the best. I hope it is a crammer; at all events I must make it large enough to serve me for dinner, and leave me something to fill my pipe with afterwards. Good-bye, Tom. I hope Liverpool (you lucky fellow, you had the Fever all last winter; you ought to have made your fortune, too, with the Irish) is better off in Accidents—it is much richer I know in Fires—than London. If not, I will make this agreement with you: you shall have my Inhuman Neglect by the Parish Authorities, if you bequeath me your Awful Death by Starvation. Is that a bargain? I remain, my dear Tom, In a state much better conceived than described, Yours regularly "in a line," A. CHANCE. The Ether's a failure; not a single explosion worth having. Can't you send me up a Shower of Frogs in your next letter? You shall have an Infamous Hoax by return. I say, the American Sea-serpent has not had a turn lately, or the Oldest Inhabitant, and, _entre nous_, Lord B—h—m has not been killed once these seven years; I have got his Life all ready. I will toss you for him, if you like. What do you say? Two out of three? or Sudden Death? _Young Flimsy_ was complaining at the _Blue Bottle_ last night of the pressure of the _Times_. He said he had a most "Wonderful Appetite" on Thursday, and invited half-a-dozen "liners" to supper on the strength of it, but the Currency deprived him of every penny, notwithstanding he had a Curious Case of Instinct, which he made sure would bring him in half-a-crown. Address to me at the _Illustrated Weekly Murder Sheet_ Office. ILLUSTRATED CONUNDRUM. (THE OLDEST ON RECORD.) _Question._—=W= [Illustration] is a [Illustration] a [Illustration] _ Answer._—=W= [Illustration] it is =A= [Illustration] A MYSTERY OF LONDON.