My Persecutor has been heard to say that my libels are used only to stop up chinks, and plug diverse other windy orifices, in the garderobes of Bankside gin-houses. Which if true raises the question of how he would know anything of such places; but let us pass over this mystery. For if Mr. Charles White’s assertion is true, then you, reader, are enjoying but a few minutes’ peaceful interlude in a House of Office somewhere in Southwark, and I had best get to the point before you have done with your business.