I most humbly beg my compatriots, when they arrive in London, not to pinch any handkerchiefs from English pockets.

Firstly, London is the most inappropriate place for this; and secondly, it is beginning to pall a bit, upon my word.

Large-scale thieves are all of them natives, the indigenous population. But whenever some penny pickpocket is caught, he will inevitably turn out to be not just of Russian extraction but from Odessa to boot.

I went into Guildhall yesterday and what do I see: a creature infinitely pitiful, infinitely ragged and infinitely hungry squirming in front of the judge's grey wig and knitted brows.

The name of the creature is Abram Guntvas; it has lived some sixteen years in this world and only a week in London; it knows the English language about as well as do many Russian translator-poets – and can't do anything but weep and squirm. It was vexing, and shameful, and painful to witness this ‘case’.

If only we were artful pickpockets; but we cannot boast even of that. The accused had nicked four shillings (1 rouble 80 kopecks) – and at once the long arm of the policeman stretched out and collared him.

To exacerbate the discomfiture, the powdered wig determined to give the case a general, so to speak, complexion, and proclaimed:

‘It is astonishing how all these aliens abuse our hospitality. The most piffling request – and still they come. I bet they would not dare to show their noses in America – there, before being allowed to disembark, they are told: “Show sixty dollars. No money – back you go!”. And here we are still waiting for Parliament to approve a similar measure. And so it turns out that over the last six months, 121 out of 486 sentences passed are against foreigners. We need to take strong measures to tackle this immediately…’

How embarrassing! And all the more embarrassing because the Honourable Mr Newton is not speaking in his own voice but repeating the words that for three or four months past have hung like a nightmare over the freedom-loving British citizen.