Fourteen lines, one and ninepence. Come, there's a breakfast for some day next week, at all events! Let me see how it reads. “Singular and Remarkable Accident. Yesterday afternoon, between the hours of one and six, as a gentleman, named Brown.” Brown! Thank goodness there are plenty of Browns! “was proceeding in his chaise along Oxford Street—” Capital street that—there's no knowing at which end things do occur! “the off wheel came, horrible to relate, against the birch broom of the street sweeper opposite, and such was the violence of the concussion, that the broom was immediately snapped in two, and the handle flying upwards, knocked the unfortunate gentleman off his seat into the window of a china shop next door—at the same instant, the horse and chaise took fright, in consequence of a little boy mischievously making faces, and dashed off at a rapid speed into the kitchen of—Smith, Esq., to the astonishment of the cook, who was frying pancakes at the time, and whose alarm may be much better conceived than described. The horse and chaise were extricated with great difficulty, and Mr. Brown resumed him journey with only the loss of his temper. The making-face nuisance we strongly recommend the police to look after.” So there's the result of my penny-a-lining for to-night, and now to send this romantic novel, in one paragraph, to the morning newspapers—I can't go myself for certain very peculiar reasons, and— (knock at door, R. 3 E.) That's somebody at the door. Now I shouldn't wonder if it is that persevering landlady of mine, who has the audacity to want some money! Come in!

Are you there, Mr. Snooks?

Oh, it's you, my dear. Yes, I am here, and I wish I wasn't—you come, I believe, for your little account?

Why, my mother—

Ah, I know. Dutiful daughter—and couldn't refuse—wished to avoid the disagreeable task—obliged to undertake it! You look more pretty to-night than ever, Miss Chubb.

Thankye, sir—but if you'd be pleased to settle—

So I do settle. I settle my affections upon you, and isn't that sufficient?

Why, sir, the bill has been so long standing—

That you want it re-seated, eh? But if you will wait until to-morrow—

My mother, Mr. Snooks, said I was not to go till a was properly balanced, and therefore, I can't wait.

Then tell your mother Mr. Snooks says it can't be properly balanced without waits.

But this week's rent is also due, Mr. Snooks.

I know it is—and being due it becomes nothing for dew is vapour, and vapour in air, and air is nothing—at least that air. However, here is that which will produce money (takes paper from table) Send these round to the newspapers as directed, for me, and a grateful heart—

Oh, Mr. Snooks, I can refuse you nothing—you will pay us to-morrow?

To be sure I will. Good night, Miss Chubb.

Good night, Mr. Snooks!

Fare thee well, and if for ever—(kisses her hand)

Oh, what a nice young man he is to be sure!

Making love's the cheapest thing, after all! Now for supper! Two pork chops, the remainder of to-day's dinner. Indigestible, very—but tempting exceedingly. If there is one thing I have a partiality for more than another, it is a pork chop. One good turn deserves another. (turns them) Talking of turns, what turns, I've had to be sure! what a life I've led! SONG.—(Introduced)—“Life of a Vagabond.” Now, then, to see about supper, and to lay the cloth. (lays newspaper on table) There, that's what I call blending the ornamental with the useful! I can read and inwardly digest together. (goes to cupboard, fetches plate, knife, fork, teacup, and bottle—gets chops) I have an appetite for two, but only a knife and fork for one, though no friend will pop into supper I expect, and as the old joke says, “If these chops are not ready, I know those that are.” (eating) Done to a nicety! rather fat, but if they were fat, fair, and forty, my “great revenge has stomach for them all.” What shifts we literary men are obliged to put up with sometimes! There am I—generalissimo of inquests, and purveyor-general of accidents in ordinary to the whole of the newspaper press, compelled to reside in this classical abode, where they do say, one Dabbs, a burglar, was taken—capital chops these! By the way, my last robbery turned out very productive! fourteen shillings is no bad week! I must have a try at a murder next. Poor Dabbs! I wonder what became of him? I dare say the account of his capture made two columns at the least. I'll drink his health. (pours from bottle into teacup) Small beer two days old. (drinks) I suppose they call this small beer because you can't drink a large quantity of it. Well, I must do the honours of the table, at all events. Mr. Snooks, permit me to have the honour of drinking your good health. Thank you, sir—the same to you. There—I wonder what sort of night it is? (draws aside curtain, discovering tiles by moonlight) Poor Dabbs! I should like to know whether his ghost walks on the housetops! (a guitar and voice heard outside) Hark! there's a ballad singer in the court! Well, I'm amazingly fond of music, so I shall patronise native talent. There, old girl, it's the last. (throws penny) And, now then to enjoy my pipe, and listen to hers at the same time. (fetches pipe and screw off mantelpiece) Not much of the weed left, I declare. Well, it certainly can't be an ill weed, for it don't grow apace. (Female sings a verse of “Lovely Night”) How sleepy that small beer makes one! Poor Dabbs! I certainly must get up a murder—they pay best! Miss Chubb—those pork chops—robbery—Dabbs, the housebreaker—oh!

Bless my heart, how late it is getting to be sure! I must go to the arms of Morpheus, as Mr. Snooks says. By the way, that Mr. Snooks is a very nice young man. I don't see why mother should be so cross with him, though he does owe five weeks' rent—four-and-sixpence a week, and find his own blacking brushes. When a single young man lodger occupies a place in your heart, though, it's high time to give him notice to quit! Well, I suppose I must get to bed, though I dare say I shall not close my eyes for dreaming about Mr. Septimus Snooks. Oh, dear! love is something like the pork chops Mr. Snooks talked about—very nice at the time, but very apt to keep you awake o' nights.

So far 'tis fortunate. The thirsty gang of peelers, who would fain my carcass have, are baulked in their career, and I am in safety. This my swag, for which I've robbed a shopkeeper, who robbed the world in turn, will make me rich, and bear me to a land far from the taxed and taxing soil of Britain. (Snooks snores) Ah, an intruder! Let me reconnoitre. (Music —He surveys, with his lantern, the apartment, and at last discovers Snooks) Ah, a stranger! (pulls Snooks to the front of the stage) How came you here?

You pulled me!

You are a traitor!

No, I'm a penny-a-liner!

Ah, you know then—

I do!

And you are—

I am.

Whilst your name is—

Snooks.

Enough—rise!

Thank you.

You deal in robberies?

Yes—I make them.

Did you ever commit a murder?

No, but I mean to.

On what?