An imprisoned magistrate, a Sheppey dwarf forced to burst from a pie for Queen Victoria and an assassination attempt on Napoleon III, meant the first edition was anything but dull.

Front page advertisements in the new paper included an invitation to visit Tomlyns muffin and crumpet maker at the Coffee House Dining Rooms, Blue Town. The cost was 8d for set tea, or 2d for a single cup.

It was front page news that Alexander McTavish (late messman to the Royal Artillery) was now installed in The Victoria, Marine Parade.

The spacious many-windowed rooms, which earned it the nickname 'Glass House' commanded a view of the Nore and Mouse lights, and the coast of Essex. For those seeking renewed health and others wishing to preserve rude health already enjoyed, there was no finer location.

Gentlemen of the Army and Royal Navy seeking lodging were especially welcome and would be securing a comfortable residence where they could furnish themselves with their own wines and spirits.

There was also the story of magistrate Robert Bellamy's fall from grace. It seems he effectively "stole" £2 from the Crown by pocketing the cash he had imposed on a poacher as a fine.

The poacher had killed two rabbits on Bellamy's land, so doubtless he felt justified in keeping the money. But a higher authority deemed he should forfeit £200 and serve a term of imprisonment.

The exposure, disgrace and sentence almost killed him, and after a few months he was released from prison.

Another story concerned Hudson, a dwarf who was barely three feet tall.

He was befriended by the Duke of Buckingham, who had him served up in a pie to honour the Queen. At a given signal, Hudson raised the pie crust, stepped out from the dish, bowed and walked away.

Humiliating as it was, Hudson fared better than other dwarfs who spent their lives in gilded cages and were forced to wear ridiculous clothes and "perform" on command.

National news did grace the Guardian pages: The wedding of the Princess Royal; the Indian mutinies; and the attempted assassination of the Emperor Napoleon III.

It happened as the Emperor and Empress rode in an open carriage, with outriders but no military escorts.

The couple acknowledged cheers of the crowds on the Rue Lepelletier, Paris, when four explosives were flung under the wheels of the carriage.

In all there were 20 devices primed for use.

The would-be assassins also rushed the carriage armed with daggers and revolvers.

In all 27 people, all Italian, were arrested.