ANNUAL REGISTER OF REMARKABLE OCCURRENCES.
JAN. 13th.—_Three_ young men on the Serpentine cutting a figure of _six_, about _nine_ in the morning of _twelfth_ day, were _two_ careless, though warned be-_four_, to _weight_ the reading of the Society's "not-ice," so popped into _sixteen_ feet water. They were speedily helped out of the ice-_well_, and resolved to _cut_ away and not _come again_.
21st.—An Omnibus Cad was brought before the Lord Mayor, charged with having been guilty of civility to a passenger, by neglecting to bang the door against his _stern_, in time to throw him on his _head_. His Lordship said such conduct was unprecedented; but as the man, in extenuation, proved that he had cried "go _on_," while another gentleman was getting _off_, he thought the case did not call for interference. The culprit, however, was dismissed by the Paddington committee, lest his example should contaminate the others.
FEB. 4th.—The following horrible event occurred in a family lately arrived from India. A female of colour, one of the establishment, was sitting by the fire, with two of her dark little progeny by her side, when a black footman, remarkable for his savage disposition, suddenly entered the room, seized one of them in each hand, hurried to the water cistern, and plunging in the struggling little ones, held them till life was extinct. In vain the distracted mother implored compassion; the bystanders seemed to think there was no law against drowning kittens.
MARCH 12th.—An elderly gentleman, crossing Fleet Street, was driven _through_ by the _Perseverance_ Omnibus. He was carried into the nearest shop, and, after taking six boxes of Morison's pills, felt so little inconvenience that he expressed his determination to keep the orifice open, so as not to be an obstruction to carriages in future.
8th.—On Thursday, died Old Tom, the Leadenhall Market Gander, after having worthily supported the city dignity for thirty years. The Court of Aldermen attended his funeral, and his deeds were not forgotten by the City Remembrancer. His spirit still haunts the old spot, and nightly takes in his favourite stuffing of sage and onions, and the poulterers say they always know _the ghost_ when they see him _a-gobblin_.