NOTES OF THE MONTH. 45? 



" What might you want with me, Sir ?" asked this engaging-looking 

 individual. " I wished to see the editor." " /am the editor, Sir, at 

 your sarwis," said the Brobdignag, taking from its rest his stick 

 of about the thickness and size of a clothes-prop. " In-deed !" 

 ejaculated the colonel, edging away towards the door ; " oh, another 

 time." " Whenever you pleases. Sir ;" and the parties politely 

 separated. 



MATERIALS FOR THE HORRIBLE. Whatever may have been the 

 justice of the old gentlewoman's complaint " Doctor, I don't enjoy 

 my murders now," there is little question of the events of the past 

 month being sufficient to stimulate the most languid appetite. Since 

 the butchery and roasting of the poor man in Leicester, our sentimen- 

 tal hypochondriacs, whose digestive powers are unequal to ordinary 

 homicides, have been solely sustained by the remembrance of de- 

 parted atrocities, or the conjurations of the catchpenny. But a bond 

 Jide monstrosity of unparalleled diabolism has provided a compensa- 

 tory banquet of blood for a very epicurean of the horrible. Steinberg 

 and the Chancellor have monopolised the newspapers between them 

 since our last. But the keeper of His Majesty's conscience threatens 

 vengeance on his maligners ; whereas, the other unfortunate maniac 

 has guaranteed the peace of the community so far as he is concerned. 

 A little of the quintessential pleasure derivable to some refined minds 

 from the perusal of this deed of blood, was, no doubt, abated by the 

 circumstance of Steinberg being a German. It made the matter 

 savour somewhat of manufactured villany. It smacked of the banks 

 of the Rhine and Bally shannon. Lest there should be any diminu- 

 tion of the dreadful, however, the jury who investigated the business, 

 found that Steinberg was perfectly sane in committing murder and 

 suicide it betokened much wisdom that a man should destroy all 

 he held dear on earth, and fill up the measure of his enormities by 

 turning his ensanguined hands on his own existence. In the evidence, 

 too, it appeared that he was of benignant habits ; therefore, in the esti- 

 mation of the sages, it was obvious that he was perfectly rational in be- 

 lieing the whole tenor of his life by the concluding act. This verdict 

 of 'felo-de-se involved, of course, the edifying consequence of midnight 

 burial, and all its raw-head-and-bloody-bone terrors. The mangled 

 bodies of Steinberg's children and his paramour were exhibited to 

 the admiring gaze of the enlightened British public of Pentonville, at 

 so much per head ; and the clothes of the suicide distributed at a re- 

 munerating price. When his remains were interred by torchlight, the 

 corpse was taken from the parish-shell, swung round by the neck and 

 heels, and dashed face-downwards into the grave ! One man of mind 

 more zealous than his fellow-monsters, descended and broke the skull 

 of the wretched German with a mallet, whereat the spectators shouted 

 with satisfaction shaking their flambeaux, and exulting in their exu- 

 berant virtue ! This took place in London London the seat of wis- 

 dom, and the nucleus of knowledge ! Fuseli is said to have supped on 

 underdone pork and bottled porter, when he wished to have " gor- 

 gons and chimeras dire/' companions of his pillow. The remem- 

 brance of poor Steinberg and his interment will be a supper fit for 

 the stomach of the most delicate cannibal. 



