Charles Mears, I.M., and Jeremiah Donovan yesterday took a short walk and a short pipe together.

It is confidently reported that at the close of the present Covent-Garden season that Mr. Ossian Sniggers will retire from the stage, of which he has been so long a distinguished ornament.  We have it from the best authority that he purposes going into the retail coal and tater line.

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LINES ON MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE.

By Sir Lumley Skeffington, Bart.

Supercelestial is the art she practises, Transcending far all other living actresses; Her father’s talent—­mother’s grace—­compose This Stephen’s figure, with John’s Roman nose.

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PUNCH’S LETTER-WRITER.

DEAR PUNCH!  VENERABLE NOSEY!

By the bye, was Publius Ovidius Nuso an ancestor of yours?  Talking of ancestors, why do the Ayrshire folks speak of theirs as four bears (forbears), it sounds very ursine.  But to our muttons, as my old French master used to call it.  Do you do anything in the classico-historical line, for the Charivaresque enlightenment of the British public; if so, here is a specimen of a work in that style, “done out of the original:”—­

THE DEATH OF CAESAR: 

A TOUCH OF THE CLASSICAL IN THE VULGAR TONGUE.

When he beheld the hand of him he had so loved raised against him, Caesar’s heart was filled with anguish, and uttering the deep reproach—­“And thou, too, Brutus!” he shrouded his face in his mantle, and fell at the foot of Pompey’s statue, covered with wounds.  Thus, in the zenith of his glory, perished Caius Julius Caesar, the conqueror of the world, and the eloquent historian of his own exploits; spiflicatus est (says my original), he was done for:  he got his gruel, and inserted his pewter in the stucco, B.C. 44.

Perhaps you may not receive the above; but “sticking his spoon in the wall” reminds me of a hint I have to offer you.  Did you ever see any Apostle spoons—­old things with saints carved on their handles, which used to be presented, at christenings, &c.  Now I think you might make your fortune with His Royal Highness of Cornwall, on the occasion of his christening, by getting together a set of spoons to present to him; and I would suggest your selection of the most notorious spoons, such as the delectable Saddler Knight, Peter Borthwick, Calculating Joey, the Colonel, Ben D’Israeli, &c.  You might even class them, putting Sir Andrew Agnew in as a grave(y) spoon; a teetotal chief as a tea spoon; Wakley, being a deserter, as a dessert spoon; D’Israeli, being so amazingly soft, as a pap spoon, &c. &c.  Send them with Punch’s dutiful congratulations, and you will infallibly get knighted; but don’t take a baronetcy, my respectable friend, for I hear that, like my friend Sir Moses, you are inclined to Judyism (Judaism)[5].  May the shadow of your nose never be less; and Heaven send that you may take this up after dinner!  Farewell!