Shortly after this appeared a prospectus of the "New, Grand, National, Benevolent Insurance Company, for the Industrial Classes." This invaluable document, after setting forth the immense benefits to society arising from habits of providence and the introduction of insurance companies,--proving the infamous rate of premiums exacted by the existent offices, and their inapplicability to the wants of the honest artisan, and declaring that nothing but the purest intentions of benefiting their fellow-creatures, and raising the moral tone of society, had led the directors to institute a new society, founded on the noblest principles and the most moderate calculations,--proceeded to demonstrate that twenty-four and a half per cent was the smallest possible return the shareholders could anticipate.

The company began under the fairest auspices; an archbishop was caught as president, on the condition always that he should give nothing but his name to the society.

Uncle Jack--more euphoniously designated as "the celebrated philanthropist, John Jones Tibbets, Esquire"-- was honorary secretary, and the capital stated at two millions.

But such was the obtuseness of the industrial classes, so little did they perceive the benefits of subscribing one-and-ninepence a-week from the age of twenty-one to fifty, in order to secure at the latter age the annuity of L18, that the company dissolved into thin air, and with it dissolved also Uncle Jack's L3,000.

Nothing more was then seen or heard of him for three years.