A Pretended Pelham — 500
A gentleman crossing one of the New York ferries was accosted by one of those peripatetic vendors of cheap literature and weekly newspapers, who are to be found in shoals about such public places, with “Buy Bulwer’s last work, sir? Only two shillin’.” The gentleman, willing to have a laugh with the urchin, said: “Why, I am Bulwer, myself!” Off went the lad, and whispering to another at a distance, excited his wonderment at the information he had to impart. Eyeing the pretended author of “Pelham” with a kind of awe, he approached him timidly, and, holding out a pamphlet, said, modestly: “Buy the ‘Women of England,’ sir? You’re not Mrs. Ellis, are you?” Of course, the proposed sale was effected.