We candidly confess that we are again somewhat thrown back in our
prophecies—November being generally a month in which it is difficult to
see your way clearly.
We have not, however, entirely lost our way. On the 5th, all foreign
refugees wearing beards and extraordinary hats will find that England
does not offer that safe asylum from persecution they had been led to
imagine. They had better keep out of the way, for fear of being
arrested, or, as the familiar Saxon expresses it, "smugged," in order
that political and religious intolerance may be displayed in the most
awful Guys! The wearers of ponchos, tartans, wide-awakes, and railway
rugs, will incur similar perils.
A calamitous fire will take place in the pocket of a young gentleman who
has incautiously been entrusted with sixpence, which he has laid out in
squibs. The young gentleman will be very much put out indeed.
There will be a heavy fog on the 9th. The guardian angel of London will
kindly throw a veil over the metropolis, so as to conceal as much as
possible a pageant calculated to give a very contemptible idea of city
intelligence.
* * * * *
HIGH WATER AT LONDON BRIDGE IN NOVEMBER may be ascertained by
calculating the cubic space occupied by the thousands who are induced by
the national complaint of the spleen to throw themselves into the river
during this dispiriting month.—_From a French Serious Almanack._