text: --(even Dr Panurge could not get through the whole name again!)--"My dear love! they had Blackwood's Magazine which like the Koran after the burning of the Alexandrian library supplied the place of ten millions of volumes!" But alas! some Burchell may be sitting by to exclaim "FUDGE!" Some groper into archives will bring forth one of those never-to-be-sufficiently-abominated catalogues of Bond and other streets showing that on a moderate calculation twenty books were published per diem which at the end of three months possessed the value of so many bushels of oyster-shells! And then pray what will you have to say for yourselves O public! from your tombs in Westminster Abbey or your catacombs at Kensal Green? Which among you will dare come forward with blue lights in his hand and accompanied by a trombone like the ghost of Ninus in Semiramide and say--"We warned these people to write for immortality