And if this were the end of the story, the good reader, with all his honest British inclination for giving the accused the benefit of a doubt, might be tempted to exclaim, “And, after all, who knows but that the appeal to this known philanthropist might have been genuine? To be sure, the shape it assumed was one that might well excite the suspicion of an individual alive to the surpassing cleverness and cunning of begging impostors; but at the same time there was sufficient of probability in the application to protect it from the stigma of impudent fraud.” Such readers will be glad to hear that all doubts on the matter were set at rest, and in the following singular, and for one party concerned somewhat unpleasant, manner. The portrait in question fell into the hands of a relative of Mr. L—, a gentleman with a hard heart for begging impostors, and sturdy resolution to put them down and punish them whenever he encountered them. He was particularly set against mendicants of the genteel class, and was very severe in his strictures on the abominable cheat attempted by “Adelaide F. T.” One afternoon, while walking along Oxford-street, lo, the original of the pictured culprit appeared before him, artlessly and innocently gazing into a linendraper’s window, and accompanied by another lady. The resemblance between the first lady and the photograph was so striking as to place her identity beyond a doubt; yet in order to make _quite_ sure, our friend withdrew the latter from his pocketbook, and covertly compared it with the original. It was as certain as that he had eyes in his head. There was the hair of golden hue massed behind and raised from the temples; there was the straight nose, the small winning mouth, and the delicately-rounded chin. The stern exposer of imposture, however, was not to be moved to mercy by a pretty face; his course of duty was plain before him, and stepping up to the lady, he addressed with undisguised severity, “Miss Adelaide T., I believe?” “You are mistaken, sir.” “Not at all, madam; a friend of mine was lately favoured with a letter from you enclosing your likeness.” It was scarcely to be wondered at, that an expression of terror took possession of the lady’s face, though it was misinterpreted by the gentleman. Thinking that she was addressed by a drunken man or a maniac, the lady prudently retreated into the shop the window of which she had been regarding. More than ever convinced that he was not mistaken, L—’s friend followed her; and goodness knows what serious consequences might have ensued, had not the lady been a known customer of the draper as the daughter of a gentleman of wealth and station. This, of course, led to an explanation, and to the most earnest and humble apologies on the part of the pursuer of imposture. The photograph was produced, and undoubtedly it was a likeness of the lady. How it had got into the hands of the designing “Adelaide F. T.” no one could tell, but doubtless it was selected on account of its beauty and prepossessing artlessness. An endeavour was made to secure the cheats; but from some cause or another they took alarm, and the decoy letter, addressed “Post-office —,” remained there until it was returned through the Dead-letter Office.