PENNY AND PEOPLE'S LONDON:— SUNDAY, JULY 11, 1841 THE LATE HORRIBLE MURDER OF MR. BRIMS, AT SHADWELL, BY MARY LONG AND HANNAH COVINGTON* Holtce, the pathless sea,— through the crowded city and bustling camp, till she found him stretched upon the battle- field. Perhaps she came in time t » receive bis parting sigh, and ber spirit, quitling its worn- out tenertient of clay, winged its way, with bis, to Him who gave them being. With the assistance of some of my comrades, I consigned this hapless pair to the earth, wrapped in the same military cloak ; and, enveloping the infant — this dear child of my adoption,— in my plaid, I returned to tlie spot where our regiment lay. A GOOD FOOTING IN SOCIETY. Doubtless my little would- be swell, You've acted with some impropriety; But yet your treatment proves full well, You've a goo& footing in society. Exile of Erin ( hearing) sad's thy lot, 1 But yet thy case we well can handle ; Thou'rt deaf unto the voice ot grief, And to the envenom'd tongue of scandal, STORY OF A PRIVATE SOLDIER. P* A FRAGMENT. * * * * In a fsw minutes I had the honour of being enrotled a private in the 70th Highlanders; and, before my arrival in Cork, was Jolty equipped in the garb of the warlike Celts. 1 need not detain you with an account of my dull and uninteresting life, after our arrival in Belgium, previous to the memorable fight of • Waterloo. With the occurrences of that day ynuare all well acquainted, and my friends here have often enough listened to the narifition of mv own " hair- breadth escapes," Tht ugh the feeling is natural, I have been too fond of pointing at the only bright spot in the blank ofa name, less existence. The night before the battle, I was backwards and for- wards, a solitary sentinel, at one of the outposts. There was a weight tin the midnight atmosphere, that threw an unwonted gloom over my soul; and the thought of a widowed, deserted, and heart- broken mother, assumed tbe place that high- wrought romance was wont to oc- cupy. There was a silence throughout the whole of our army, which formed a striking contrast to the loud shouts of the enemy, as they passed the night in carousing, around the watch- fires. I should not, perhaps, call it silence, andyet. it was something like it, but not the ailenee of sleep. The stern and sullen sound with which the word and countersign were exchanged,— the low, but deep tone in which the necessary orderi for the following day were given,— the sigh of con- tending feelingsin the soul, which almost resembled the groans extorted by bodily pain from the wounded,— were all still more audible than the distant clang of the armourer, and the snorting and prancing of the steeds, and shewed that all aiountl was watchfulness and anxiety. About the middle of the night, 1 received a visit from a ysung man with whom 1 bad formed ail intimate acquaintance. He was the only son of a gentleman of large property, in the south of Ireland; but, hav- ingformed an attachment to a beautiful girl in humble life, and married heragainst the will ofhis father, had been disinherited, and turned out of doors. Tiie youth had some reason to repent of his rashness. His wife was beautiful, virtuous, and aifectionate; but her want of educa- tion, and entire unacquaintance with those polished manners and little clegancies to which he had been accustomcd, soon dissolved much of the charm which her beauty and artiessness had at first thrown around him. After struggling for some time with poverty and discontent, he unlisted in a regiment of heavy dragoons; and, being ordered to the continent,' eft his wife, with an infant daughter, in a wretsJied lodging A FACT.— A physician in this city called a few days since to see a young man who was quite sick, and among other things lie left a blister plaster, which he ordered be placed on to the young man's chest. He called the next morning to see his patient, and on inquiring how the blister had operated, was informed by the lady of the housejthat as the young man had no chest she had put the blister on his trunk i and sure enough, there the blister was, stuck upon a large wooden trunk by the side of the bed. A tutor bid his pupil come to the school, but he slept all the'while. After the exercise was done, home comes the tutor, and finds him asleep, and asked him why he did not coine to disputation! " Truly, sir,' says lie, " I never dreum'd on't." During the time of the Rebellion, when the City ofLondon had works cast about it, one said the city would be much stronger if the Thames run on the north side thereof. To which another made answer, That might easily be done j it was but removing the city to the south side of the Thames.* NO. XVI. THE LIBERAL MAN. „ t ITTEN KMUHSLT FOR " THK FUNNY SUNDAY TIMES, THOMAS PRIST. Alft,~" My Lord Tom Noddy. . I am a gent, well known In town, Bfy liberal ways have gain'd renown; In fact, I'm known to high and low, In every place wherever I g°- I'm not on. of those who nothing give, Such shabby louts are uot fit to live i I never do things hy halves, oh! no, I always like the whole heg to go. So you that wish to generous be, A bright example see in me s No better pattern hare you can, For really I am a most liberal man. Some envious folks my ways decry, And that I'm liberal do deny; But of facts I'll mention here a few, To prove that speak the truth I do. One day my purse of gold, d'ye see, „ I dropp'd— it was returned to me By a man, whose looks mado me quite sure. That although honest he was poor. True honesty I much regard, And so his honesty to reward, I thanked him kindly, saying, " Here Is two- pence to get you a pint of beer. It was only last Sunday afternoon, With a lady I went to the Grecian Saloon, And didn't I do tbe liberal then t Went in at five and staid till ten. During the time that we were there We had no less than a pot of beer; And the waiter, how he stared, the elf. When 1 gave him a ha'p'ny for himself. From this one circumstance you 11 hna. That I'm most generously inciin a; No better pattern have you can. For really I am a moss liberal man. Although no politician, I For liberal measures always cry j And so my friends will find 1 think; If they should ever ask me to drink! My charity is very great, So you'll agree when this I state, I've never got change to a beggar » el » ™ > But I owe him a penny, that s all the sam « . Such benevolence, I protest, Is seldom by any man possess d i It's a pity but all would follow my plan, For you'll own that I'm reaily. a liberal man. To charity sermons I e'er go, When the plate comes round I d have yoa Know, It is false what's rumour'd in the town, That I put in a bob and take out a crown. I gave a crown once I declare, < But that it was good I cannot swear j One thing I wilt own, that a fiat, • Twas refused wherever 1 d offer d It at. But for that you'd surely not blame me. As generous I meant to be; To equal me there's few that can, For really I am a most liberal man! If ever I'm invited out, To dinner- party, ball or rout, . Of my friendship I most liberal am. I'd stay for a week, and that's no flam. But if any person calls on rae, Either to dinner or to tea, They back acaln must always roam, For, although ' tis strange, I'm never at liome » The cause of this I cannot tell, But that ' tis so I know full welt •, But that I'm shabby say who can? For I've proved I'm a very liberal man. But of all my liberal acts to speak, I'm sure'twould take me full a week j My modesty's too great almost, So of myself I don't like to boast. One fact very certain's this, My hand in my pocket always is; But some who'd my character take away, That there never is anything in it say. But that's all malice you'll allow, For I'm sure I've shown yon clearly now, 1 To equal me there's few that can. For really I am a most liberal mau. PRESENTATION AT COURT/. The Archduke, covered with orders, received ever/ me with the greatest condescension, and made to each > f his guests a most flattering speech. His suite, in new iniforms, simultaneously, bowed directly the flattering: ipeech was finished. . . , " Madame von Furstenburg, I feel the greatest plea- sure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be sur wmded by my friends. Madame von Furstenburg, I [ rust that your amiable and delightful family are quite well" ( The party passed on),—" Cravatischeff 1 con- tinued his highness, inclining his head round to one of his aid- de- camps; " Cravatischeff! a very fine woman is Madame von Furstenburg. There are few women whom I more admire than Madame von Furstenburg. " Prince Salvinski, X feel the greatest pleasure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be surrounded bv my friends. Poland honours no qne more than Prince Salvinski."—" Cravatischeff 1 a remarkable bore a Prince Salvinski. There are few men of whom I have greater terror than Prince Salvinski. " Baron von Konigstein, I feel the greatest pleasure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be sur- rounded by my friends. Caron von Konigstein, I have not yet forgot the story ofthe fair Venetian. — " Cravatischeff! an uncommonly pleasant fellow is Baron von Konigstein. There are few men whose com- pany I more enioy than Baron von Konigstein s. " Count von Altenburgh, I feel the greatest pleasure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be sur- rounded by my friends. You will not forget to give me your opinion of my Austrian troop."—" Cravatischeff 1 a very good billiard- player is Count von Altenburgh. There are few men whose play I'd sooner bet upon than Count von Altenburgh's." " Lady Madeleine Trevor, T feel the greatest plea- sure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be sur- rounded by my friends.— Miss Fane, your servant— Mr. Sherbone- Mr. St. George- Mr. Grey ' -< Cravatis- cheff! a most splendid woman is Lady Madeleine ire- vor. There is no woman whom X more admire than Lady Madeleine Trevor ;— and, Cravatischeff I Miss Fane, too! a remarkably fine girl is Miss Fane. — Vivian SELFISHNESS.— Within his house in a great arm chair before the fire, sat an old gray- headed man, npefor tha grave. ' Twas winter, and the cold wind whistled among the leafless branches of the trees, and the snow and sleet rattled against the windows. The old man chuckled, for he wis warm and comfortable, and the biting blast touched him not. He said,' I have enough- lam rich - so blow ye winds, aud drift ye snows, 1 am safe. A servant entered and said, ' sir, a woman is at the door trembling in the cold- has no where to sleep- no home to go to. She begs for a corner of your kitchen to pass • theniffht in ' ' Away. I've ne room for thieving beg- , ' arslTe e'isatavem close by- tell her to go there/ . ihe says she has no money and be? s you to rive her ' enough to buy a meal and lodging. , Beg° ne ' drive her off. What I've gofs my own, and I'll keepit too. : MS WK miserable, though rich.^ THE WAY T ® KEEP IT, A countryman, a iiian of tht- ee score arid ten, once walking along a country road, observed something lying a short distance before him, which, on examina- tion, proved to be a portmanteau, which had dropped from a coach, and is which was a considerable sum of money. He conveyed his treasure home, and soon made known to his wife his good fortune. Now the old dame knew that her " gude man" had never been to school in his lifetime, and, therefore, she thought her " auld man" should " lam summut." She accord- ingly sent him to school, where he staid a week like a " gude bairn," but he refused to go any more, as lie could not learn. About a fortnight after this a fine looking horseman rode into the village, and enquired for a lost portman- teau ; when one of the neighbours who knew of the *' auld man's" good fortune, sent the stranger to him. " 1 have lost a portmanteau some time, friend," said the stranger ; " and, upon enquiry, I heard that you found one exactly answering the description of the one I last, and which I. will reward you for when you re turn it." " Hem ! Haw ! Ah 1" coughed the old man, without speaking a word, for so great was his astonishment that he could not utter a word. In this manner he stood for half an hour, in spite of the repeated attempts of the gentleman to make him speak. " Pray answer me one question," said the genlleman, tired out of patience, " have you ever found a portman- teau ?" The old man turned about, and calling out lo his wife, " My dear," says he," do you ever recollect my finding a portmanfle }" " Portmantle! Portmantle 1" exclaimed his wife. " Oh, yes, to be sure 1 do; but it was some tinie ago now— it was just before you went to school." " Oh! Eh ! Ah 1" exclaimed the " auld man," " so it was, my dear, just afore I went to school, so it was." " Why could not you have said that before, you old . jackanapes?" cried the indignant gentleman, " go in J to your hut and hide your head." So saying the gen- t tleman mouuted his charger and rode off, not very well r pleased with his information, but leaving the old man ] and his wife to laugh over their good fortune, and " The „' Way io Keep It." Richmond- street, MaiJa- hill. J. TURNER. A TOUCHING STORY. ; The following simple but touching story is from a r French papet •:— An Old man, his age eighty- two, an- , iwered to his name, and raising hiniself with difficulty, ; was supported by his daughter before the tribunal of r his judges. To the question of the presiding ttiagis- ( trate, his daughter replied in a trembling voice; " My father does not hear you, gentlemen, permit me to an- ( swerforhim. President— Your father is brought before ' us charged with begging and being homeless. Daugh- \ ter— May Heaven pardon those who hive told you that. 1 Gentlemen, from the day I was born,- my father never left me, and while I can work never shall be a burthen to any one. A month since I fell sick ; we were with- out money; my father rose early and went out. He did not return till evening— then he sat down by my bed- side and burst into tears. I asked what ailed him. He said it was a sad thing to be told. He applied for a situation as a labourer, but his age was against him. I shall have to beg, said he ; for how can 1 let thee die for want of assistance. I told him that I was better, aud that I would go to work next morning. The next morn- ing I was unable to move. My father went out without sneaking to me. An hour afterwards 1 was informed that the guards had arrested him for asking alms. Gen- tlemen, if he did so, it was not for himself but for me when I was too sick to work. If you will pardon him for this time, I promise he shall never offend you again. The affecting manner in which the poor girl spoke, softened even the magistrates and justice, or rather law, gave way to feeling, and the octogenarian was dis- charged. An Oxford scholar blowing his fire, it seems the nose of the bellows dropped off. " Faith." says he, " I see ' tis cold weather, for the mi < if the bellows drops. I A town cryer delivered the following notice :—" Last night, be- tween the hours of ten and twelve, was lost a black dog, ail over white spots. Whoever will bring him lo the cryer, shall have half- a- goinea reward. God save the king I I forgot to tell you he has lost his collar. The next days person meeting the same fellow, asked him, " Why lie did not cry!" " 1 can't," said he, " roy Wife's dead," MANSION HOUSE. A'KIND RELATION.— A simple- looking countryman, \ vith a very large head, which was covered with hair of a fiery hue, appeared before the Lord Mayor to seek his advice under the following circumstances; we may » s well, however, let the joskin tell the tale in his own • way. " Pleaz zur," commenced the countryman, in a strong Yorkshire dialect, " I cum fra' Yorkshire by't coach oanly yesterdee, an' I gotten down at what they do call Saracen's Head, I reckon; and had at that time a might o' money in a canvas bag ill my breeches pocket; a matter o' seventy. five goolden sufferings, three ten- pound notes, one five, and a lot o' loose silver. Well, I hadn't gotten off't coach a minute, when two swellish chaps cums up to I, and one o' ' em makes a full stop, and stares me so full in> t face, ( hat dang me if I wa'n't quite ashamed o' mysea, loike. At > ast, up he steps to I, an' makin' just such a bow as a body would to a vil- lage curate, he says,— ehire !' " y6t pardon' zur' but beant y° u fr*' ' York- Well, blest if T ;, yj"' uc, h'.," deed ; f ™ Darlington! saw you ber 1 dldn * lhlnk 80 * although I never couldn't '• ', or8> y° u are s0 raHC' 1 ' ike my father, that I a . nelp looking at you. Don't you think there is , cat likeness betwixt yon and I ?'" " Well, ecod, when he put such a question as that, I could not help laughing, and zaid I didn't know, haply theTe moight, but I wur no judge o' phisigogomies. But t'other chap zaid as he never zeed sich a likeness in his lift." '" New, I shouldn't at all wonder,' zaid the man, * if you and I are relalpd. I'd bet my life that your name is but no, I wont say anything more, or else yon may say I am rude, mayhap.' " '" ' Oh, na, na, dang it!— I shouldfia go for to be so • silly as that,' zaid I; ' as for tty name, I be not • shamed on it, for I ha' na CB.' jae. My name be Ralph Dobbinson, and '" " LawVsI I had scarcely gotten th' words out o' my mouth, when th' man jumped into my arms as if he wur mad, and hugging 1 to him, he Baid :— " I thought so 1 I thought so !— Oh, my dear, dear cousin, only to think we should meet in this manner." • "' Cousin!' zaid I, and nation ' stonished loike, I wur,' I did na know I had one; though I know I ha' gotten a uncle, if he be alive, in London.' " That be the very man, of whom I wur going to tell you,' said the chap; ' your uncle be my feyther, • whom I had the misfortune to bury two years ago, and he left a legacy to you.'" " ' Noa, you don't zay zo,' zaid I." ^"' Indeed but I do, though,' zaid he, ' and very much delighted I am to see you ; we must go and have something to drink, and then you shall accompany me and this gentleman to my house; if you haven't any prerious engagement.' Well, you know, I thought he wur a speaking the truth, and that he wur my coisin." LORD MAYOR.— And you ultimately found out that he was cozening you, I suppose > COMPLAINANT.— Ecotl, your lordship ha'just guessed It; lie did do. X, ZUre enough, I thought he wur a devilish nic. e fellow, and wur vary glad to meet wl' a ' e'" t. 1<") tn London. So we all three walked into a piiblic-.' ftouse, an' wo had rump steaks, and three pots ° * ale, and I pulled out my bag to pay for it; but f'jusin wonldna' have it. Hows'ever. he axed I whether 1 had much money with me, and I told him; and he zaid as I ought to be very careful o' it, as there wur a good many'rogues in London. I zaid I knowed it, but 1 wur too far north to be done easily, an' I laaft, an' cousin laaft, too, an' winked his eye, as much as to say " I believe you." Hows'ever, he axed I to allow un tij tie it p my bag, as he had a knack of doing it more aecure than many persons. Well, I thought this wur vary kind, too, an' 1 thanked cousin vary much, an' fived him the bag, which he tied up vary carefully, as thought, and returned it to I, zaying, " There, all as any one gets out o' that bag now, will not do them much good." Well, we sat a little while longer, when cousin had occasion to leave th' room, and I sat wi' his friend for full a quarter of an hour, but cousin did not return. At last, his friend said as how it wur strange where he could be, and he would go and look after him. He went out, and I waited another quarter of an hour, and then half an hour, but neither cousin nor his friend came back, and from that time to this, I have never clapped my eyes on either of them. I LORD MATSR.— But what about your cash ? P COMPLAINANT.—( ruefully.) Oh, zur; that's where I do feel it. Arter waiting, an' waiting, and neither cousia nor Ms friend returning, my suspicions that all not right, began to be raised, and I took out my 1 » ag and untied it to examine the contents, but the notes • were gone, and instead of the sufferings, there wur no- thing but farthings. LORD MAYOR,— What a simpleton yon must be, to be thus wheedled oat of your money. Do yon think you shoald know your " cousin" or his companion again ? Complainant answered in the affirmative; the Lord Mayor then gave the necessary instructions to the of- • ficers to look out for the fellows, but gave Ralph Dob- binson very little hopes of seeing either his " cousin" or his cash again. in London. Chance brought us together at Belgium, and a similarity of t tastes soon produced a friendship- Depressed as I was in spirit myself, I was struck with the melancholy tone in which, that night, he accosted me. He felt a presentiment, he said, that he should not survive the battle of the ensuing day. He wished t to bid me farewell, and to entrust to my care liis portrait, which, with I t his farewell blessing, was all he had to bequeath to his wife and ehild. Absence had renewed, or rather redoubled all his fondness for her, and pourtrayed her in all the witching liveliness that had won his boyish ' affection. He talked of her, while the tears rati down his cheeks, and conjured me, if ever I reached England, to find her out, and make 1 know" ber case to his father. In vain^— while I pledged mv word to the fulfilment of his wishes,— I endeavoured to cheer him with better | bopes. He listened in silence to all I could suggest; ilung his arms round my neck, wrung my hand, and we parted. I sa\ v< him but once again,— it was during the hottest part of the next and terrible day, when, with a noise that drowned even the roar ofthe artillery. Sir Ponsonby's brigade of cavalry dashed past our hollow square, bearing before them in that tremendous charge, the flower of Napoleon's cavalry. Far ahead, even of his national regiment, I saw the manly figure of my friend. It was but for a moment; the next instant he was fighting in the centre of the enemy's squadron; and the clouds of smoke, that closed in masses round friend and foe, hid all from my view. When the battle was over, and all was hushed but the groans of the wounded, and the triumphant shouts and rolling drums of the victorious Prussians, who continued the pursuit during the entire night,' 1 quitted the shat- tered remains of the gallant regiment in whose ranks I had that day the honour ofstanding. The moon was wading through scattered masses of dark and heavy clouds, when 1 commenced my search for my friend. Although I at first felt a certain convietion of his fate, I afterwards began to hope that the object of my search had, contrary to his predic- tion, survived the terrible encounter. I was about to retire, when the heads of the slain in a ploughed field, on which the moon was now shin- ing clearljr attracted my notice. Literally piled upon each other, were the bodies of five cuirassiers, and lying beneath his horse, was the dead body of my friend. You may form some slight idea of my astonishment, on finding, by a nearer inspection, that his head was supported, and his cheeks entwined, by the arms of a female, from whom also the spirit had taken its departure; but you can form no conception of tiie horror 1 felt at beholding, in this scene of carnage and desolation, in the very arms of deajli, and on the bosom of a corpse, a living infant, sleeping calmly, with the moonbeams resting on its lovely features, and a smile playing on its lips, as if angels were guarding its slumbers, and inspiring its dreams; ana who knows but perhaps they were? The conviction now flashed across my mind, that these were the wife and daughter of ; my unfortunate friend; and the letters we afterwards found on the per- son of the former, proved that I was right in my conjecture. Driven aside by the galls of pleasure or ambition, or by the storms of ; life, the affections of man may veer; but unchangeable and unchanging ; is the true heart of woman,—" She loves and loves for ever." His I faithful wife had followed him through land $ stranger*, and over THE PEN* H? jJAY TIMES AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. THE DEATH GRASP; OR, A FATHER'S CURSE { BY THE AUTHOR OF " SR- A, THE OUTCAST," ETC, ( Canunued from our last.) ' ' * " i Monsieur De Floriville," said C;,! eb. M ush," hastily interrupted the fojmer; " lhat na- asust never be mentioned now ;-- Monsieur Arnaucl in future, if you please." , " Well, then, Monsieur Arnaud," ol- - rved Caleb fewinton, " can it be possible, I say, that you can so far have forgotten your nateral feeliu,-. >;\ lsyour ami- able and unfortunate wife and your ouly so as to ha* e done as you say ?" " It is indeed p( f- aleb, » r,.; likewise true," returned Adolphe, coolly, " I know you will say it was very wrong, s) llj so it was; but what had I to do with honour or justice i If I were to say that I forgot my child sh- iuid tell an untruth— they otter, r ush ( a my memory in characters so vivid' I- may therefore It would iiot be my real character to be La i! ui? I was near' iriven to my former horrible state of mind. ' At c h times, however, I had recourse to go- ciety - Anr. . .. . jting draught, and I seldom failed to bud fbe.' t yery good antidotes for niy melancholy. Be- Wiet^ Vere i not, I reflected, in a manner of speaking, ' jear! : ihe world ?— at least, in my former character— filtering into a fresh career; aud it behoved ine,— at •• sast, so I eonsidered— to do the best I could for my- « ell, and to study no one else. I can see that thou dost not approve of this kind of reasoning, and I do not wonder at it. But enongh of this— I and Floretta, I repeat, were united, und I once more became the pos- sessor of great wealth, and was thus enabled to indulge in all my wild and dissipated propensities. Floretta and I lived very happily together for some time, and I am convinced that she loved me with the most ardent affection. She was a beautiful woman, and possessed of intrinsic charms far surpassing those of her person. She deserved a better fate." " Several months rolled on in this manner, without anything worthy of particular notice taking place. In due course of time my wife presented me with a lovely girl." Caleb Swinton at this again raised his hands and eyes towards heaven with an expression of astonishment, and, then looked at Adolphe with an air of incredulity. ( " Well, Caleb," said De Floriville, with an indiffer- ent and hardened smile, " why dost thou express so much surprise, forsooth ? Is there anything so wonder- ful in Floretta bearing me a daughter?" " Oh dear 1 oh dear I'' said Caleb, " there is nothing wonderful, to be sure, in the matter, but then it seems so unnateral." " On that point thou and I disagree, Master Swinton," remarked De Floriville, " for I think nothing could be more natural." " Well," uttered Caleb, " may the difference of opi- nion— you know the rest;— but for my part, Monsieur Arnaud— if I must call you so— it does seem to me so very unnateral lhat you should marry another woman, and that that woman should bear you anoiher child, and all the while your own right lawful wife and right law- f ul child are alive. But are the two poor things now living 1" " Thou shalt hear. Previous to the last event taking place of which 1 have informed fhee, I had greatly im- poverished the fortune 1 bad had with Floretta, having entered with increased spirit into the ruinous course I had formerly pursued. Floretta, at first, took very little Hiotice of my conduct, hoping that I should quickly see through my folly, and reform; but when she found that my extravagance increased rather than abated, she gently remonstrated with me on the subject, and pointed out the ruinous consequences that must ensue, should I persist in my present folly. I pretended to be deeply impressed by her observations, and promised to attend to her advice. For a few weeks after this all went on very well, but at the end of that time I forgot all the promises 1 had made to Floretta, and entered with re- doubled recklessness into those scenes of improvidence that had first led me to crime, and which were quickly working my ruin. Many a pang, many a tear did it cost Floretta, and often did she affectionately expostulate with me, but it was all to no purpose. I confess that there were times, however, when 1 could not help being much moved by her words, and the suffering I knew I was inflicting upon one who deserved a fate so differ- ent; and I could not help reproaching myself severely for my conduct. At such times I would forswear my vices, and vow to abandon my unprincipled compa- nions; but these promises were soon forgotten, and in the wild and destructive vortex of dissipation I lost all thought, all care of everything but my own evil pas- sions. Only a few inure months elapsed, and I again found myself a ruined man, and Floretta, my victim, apparently dying of a broken heart. What did I then ? I know tbou wilt shudder when I tell thee— that thou wilt call me monster, and feel repugnance and abhor- rence in my presence ; but it matters not— I am now quite used to the scorn, the hatred, and contempt of mankind. Collecting what small sum of money was retr aining out of Floretta's once handsome fortune, and a few articles of jewellery, of which I afterwards dis- j. . I abandoned her and her child, and made my way through France to this country, being determined to find on. » y wife." " Heartless miscreant 1" Caleb Swinton could scarcely refrain from exclaiming, as Adolphe made this shame- IS:." acknowledgment of his unparalleled viltany ; and » puogiof the most poignant regret darted through the • : ... of the good- hearted man when he reflected that Viphe, having found out the retreat of Madame De - faille, would, in all probability, be the cause of misery to her, and, perhaps, bring upon her con- ely and disgrace. He felt such complete horror and disgust at the wretched and guilty Adolphe, that h « f- ..; ddered at his presence, and could scarcely look ii r, bim with any degiee of patience. Adolphe read thoughts that were passing in the mind of Caleb Si, inton, but he regarded them not; as we have before slated, he had become completely callous to all sense of shau." or feeling, and was fully prepared to encounter reproach and detestation. He paused a few moments in silence, and looked at Caleb earnestly, but with the utmost indifference. • Oh dear, Monsieur," at length exclaimed Caleb, " and how could you possibly be so cruel to one whom you have stated to have been so kind aud affectionate to you ?" " It matters not," answered Adolphe; " I did find the heart to do it, and here I am, thou seest. What was the use of my remaining with Floretta and her off- spring in misery ? I had no means of relieving them, and I had experienced enough of the horrors of want iu my former days." " And that is the very reason, Monsieur,' returned Caleb Swinton—" for that very reason I should have thought that what you then suffered would have taught you a lesson that you would never have forgot; and that, when fortune again smiled upon you, you would have known better than formerly how to take care of favours." .. at. Psha," remarked De Floriville, impatiently," what is the use of talking in that manner to a gamester, a robber, and a murderer ? I and feeling have long since parted company, and I dare say we shall never be on very intimate terms again— I have no wish to renew the acquaintance. Besides, Floretta is still young and handsome, and will no doubt soon forget me, and meet with another husband or a protector. At any rate she must not expect to see me again; and I daresay that by this time ell the love she once bore ine is turned to hatred, and if she has a wish to see me, it is only that she might have an opportunity of gratifying that ven- geance which is doubtless engendered in her veins." " But for what purpose have you sought out Madame De Floriville ?" asked Caleb. '• For what purpose dost thou suppose a man would seek out a wife from whom he has been long separated !" " You would not force her to live with you again ?" said Caleb. " That depends upon circumstances," answered the "'^ But you forget, Monsieur," returned Caleb, " that the world believe you dead." " And so much the better; be less scrupulous in receive quite so safe or conveniet known," answered Ad „ - e, " But ! « "- V COM! , U claim her as your wife without revesting 1ire s . el f" " Very • sily,' replied De Floriville. Laurette has nev i been known here by any other name than that of Madame Le, Sange. No person except thyself is acquainted with her real circumstances, unless it be that loquacious minx, Annette, who, 1 suspect, hath been listening to the conversation which passed between me and Laurette on our meeting; but she must be si- leoced. Who then is to know but lhat I am Monsieur Le Sange, or Monsieur Arnaud, the husband from whom she has been parted, but to whom she is again recon- ciled ?" Caleb Swinton shook his head, but made no reply. His fears for Madame De Floriville increased, and he plainly foresaw that fresh misfortunes of a still more painful nature, if possible, than any she had yet en- dured, were in stoie for her; aud, greatly attached as Caleb was to the unfortunate lady, he could not think of it without the most poignant anguish. " To sum up my intentions in a very few words," said Adolphe, after a pause ;—" Laurette has an ample fortune— 1 have not a sous ; and as I cannot make up my mind to endure poverty when there are the means to avoid it, why I shall e'en take Ihe liberty of putting in my claim upon it." The disgust of Caleb at the ruffianly manners and de- termined tone of De Floriville increased every moment, and he could scarcely believe that he heard aright, but was half inclined to imagine that liis senses deceived him. Base and cruel as Adolphe had formerly been, yet there were moments when he was most sensitively alive to gentler feelings and the voice of compunction ; but here stood a wretch who seemed completely dead to every thing but his own guilty passions, and. who ap- peared absolutely to exult in bis iniquity. Adolphe noticed the sentiments with which Caleb contemplated him, but they seemed to make no other impression upon | him lhan to amuse him, and for a few seconds he care- lessly lolled in his chair, with one leg swinging over the other, and whistling a portion of a licentious air at that lime very popular among the profligate young men of France and other nations. " But, Monsieur," remarked Caleb at length, in re- ply to the observations which De Floriville had just before made, " you will pardon my boldness, but I would take the liberty of reminding you that you can- not put in your claim to the property which has de- volved upon your wife without betraying yourself, and " " Bahl" interrupted Adolphe, impatiently; " and why cannot I d , a « I ha^ e said? Thinkest thou that Laureite will no have too much respect for herself and [' ray son to divulg * the secret ? Would not eternal dis- ' grace be the consequence ?" ' But surely you would not be so cruel as to—" " It matters not what I would do," interrupted De Floriville; " time will show lhat. I must have mosey — 1 mustlive unrestrained, unshackled— I cannot aban- don my late course of life, aud I must and will have the means of supporting me in it." " Heaven protect the poor dear lady, then," cried Caleb, fervently, " for without its interference I see no- thing but misery and ruin before her." " There, there, no more of this foolery," said De Floriville, " but get thee hence, and bring a bottle of the best Rhenish thou hast in thy cellar. Good wine is far better than a sermon at any lime ; besides, as it is so long since we have met before, we must e'en drink to- gether f > r old acquaintance sake. Thou need'st not hesitate— thou shall have the money for it. 1 have yet sufficient left in niy purse to pay for a few bottles of wine, and when it is empty, why I know very well how to get it replenished." How deeply did Caleb Swinton regret the unfortu- nate circumstance which had brought De Floriville to his house, or to England at all 1 He would almost as soon have had Beelzebub himself for a guest as one whom he had very good reason to believe was no great < f," at better. But he felt more for Madame De Fiori- viile, and earnestly prayed that something might occur — same intervention of Proyidence— to save her from the offering with which she was now threatened. As to drinking wilh De Floriville, he shuddered at the bare idea; but still he was equally fearful of refusing him, not knowing to vvhal lengihshe might be tempted to go, and being by no means anxious to excite his anger. He therefore immgdiaiely hastened to comply with De Flo- riville's request, and brought a bottle of wine on the table, hoping that when he had despatched it, as it was getting late, he would retire to his chamber, or at any rate lhat more guests might make their appearance, and thus prevent them from joining in conversation to- gether. Having, much against his will, drank the contents of a glass which De Floriville handed to him, Caleb Swin- ton took the earliest opportunity of leaving his pre- sence, and busied himself about in another part of the house. On the entrance of two or three guests, Adolphe hastily arose from bis chair, and, quitting the room, made his way lo his own chamber, much to the relief of our worthy host, who now felt as if a spell was upon his house— a curse— while such a guilty wretch re- mained in it. Early on the following morning, one of- the servants of Caleb Swinton came to him with a very pale coun- tenance, and iu accents of terror informed him that he was very sorry, but that he was fearful he should have to leave his service. " For what reason ?" demanded Swinton, surprised at the terror evinced by the man. " For what reason 1" responded the servant, " why I verily believe that either that mysteiious gentleman who has lodged here for the lasl two nights is none other than the old gentleman himself, or else this house is haunted, to a certainty." " What do you mean ?" asked Caleb. " Why, I'll tell yau," returned the man. " You know I sleep in the same gallery as the mysterious stranger ; and last night, and the night before too, I couldn't get a wink of sleep for the terrible noises that proceeded from the room the stranger sleeps in." " Noises ?'' responded Caleb. " Yes," answered ihe servant, " such noises as I ne- ver heard in my life before, and which could only have proceeded from some ghost, qr hobgoblin, or devil, or something of the kind I am not much of a cowaid, I ( latter myself; but I mast confess that I never felt so frightened in the whole course of my life before." " Nonsense, man," said Caleb, who affected incredu- lity, although be was far from feeling it; " thou must surely have been mistaken; some dream hath alarmed thee." " Oh, no," said the man, positively," it was no dream. I was as wide awake as 1 am at present. Besides, it's not very likely that I should dream the same thing on two successive nights.'' Well, but what kind of noises were they that thou heard ?" demanded Caleb Swinton; " describe them to me." " Why, that is rather a bit of a puzzler to me," re- turned the man; " but l am certain they were super- natural. There wassuch a shrieking and groaning, and like the indistinct muttering of a number of voices ; then a tremendous weight seemed to fall upon the floor, as if the roof of Ihe house was falling in. After ihis all would be silent for a few minutes, when ( he noises would be renewed with redoubled loudness. 1 remained in bed for some time, listening to these sounds, and trembling like an aspen- leaf, but at last I could not bear it any longer; so I jumped out of bed, and opening the door, looked out on to the gallery, in the direction of the mysterious stranger's chamber; and you may be- lieve me, master, or believe me not, but as irue as you sit there, I saw a blue light burning from under the door of the room in which that oan sleeps, and there was such a rattling, and groaning, and clanking, as if of heavy chains, that it was enough to make any one suppose that a number of felons had broken loo » e from prison, and taken up their residence in the apartment of which I have been speaking. Overcome with terror,! rushed back into my room, and locked and bolted my- self in, but the noises were repeated at intervals till daylight, which, I can tell you, I was glad enough to " This is a curious story," said Caleb Swinton, who was much alarmed at'what the man had been relating, but did not wish him to observe that he was so, " but I still think that you mus> t ha' e been mistaken, or else that you have been dreaming. However, I will make enquiry into the matter ; in the mean time, I desire, William, that thou wilt not say anything about it to the other servants." " I will do as you request, sir," answered William, " but as to sleeping another night in that room, while the mysterious stranger is so close a neighbour of mine, I positively will not. Why, I should be carried away neck and crop some of these nights by the evil spirits I am certain he associates with," " Well, I don't suppose thou wilt be annoyed with him many nights, if thou art again," said Caleb ; " and although I ain certain that he is real flesh and blood, and no ghost or devil, as thou seemest to imagine, I con- 1 fess, William, that I shall not be sorry when I have got rid of my guest." " I dare say not, sir," returned William, " but either he or I must go soon, and that's all about it. I would not stay in a house where there was such a suspicious character— to say the least of him — not for all the world." Rest assured, William," said his master, " that thou hast nothing to apprehend from hun, for 1 know him, and can therefore satisfy thee on that point." " Oh, if you know him, sir," observed the man, " that's quite another thing ; though ( must say that I don't envy you your acquaintance— excuse my making so bo| d, sjr." We are much obliged to Mn. A. KYNE. The following shall receive insertion as early as possible : " STANZAS," by J. ORTON, " THE SHIPWRECK," by " MOLIMEN," " DEOPIULIMA.'' " A CONSTANT HEADER," and a Riddle, by T. BROWN, ( South Shields.) J. TASK EH. ( Manchester.) We cannot answer his ques- tion, at present. *** All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 231, High street, Shoreditch. THE PENNY PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. What madness, what worse than childish weakness, is the pride of high- birth and ancestry. The following - brief observations will fully prove the justice of these words :— The families of the ancient heroes of Saxon and Nor- man race, chiefly by the mutations of time and of state, are either become extinct, or reduced to the lowest verge of fortune. Those few, therefore, whose descent is traceable, may be carried higher than that of the present nobility; for we know none of these last who claim peerage earlier than the reign of Edward the First, about the year 1295. Hence it follows, that, for alliance, and blood, the advantage is evi- _ r- „ n \ antiquity, , , —- " Enough— get thee gone to thy business, William, dc- utly in favour of the lowest class, said Caleb, " and remember the warning I. have given Could one of those illustrious shades thee, not to say anything about this affair to thy com- —- 1 ' : i - r pamons, William promised obedience, and they separated. ( To be continued.) GRATIS!!! WITH THIS WEEK'S NUMBER OF " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE" IS PRESENTED No. 1 OF VILEROY; OR, THE HORRORS OF ZINDORF CASTLE. Embellished with Splendid Engravings. IMPORTANT NOTICE SUBSCRIBERS AND COUNTRY ACENTS " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES." return to the earth and inspect human actions, he might behold one of his descendants dancing at the lathe ; another, tip- pling with his dark brethren of the apron; a third, humbly soliciting from other families, such favours as were formerly granted by his own ; a fourth, imitating modern grandeur, by contracting debts which he never designs to pay; and a fifth, snuff of departed life! poaching, like a thief in the night, upon the very ma- nors possessed by his ancestors. Whence is it that title, pedigree, and alliance, in superior life, are esteemed of the highest value, while, in the inferior, which has a prior claim, they are totally neglected? The grand design of every feature upon earth, is to supply the wants of nature. No amuse- ments of body or mind can be adopted, till hunger is served. When the appetite calls, the whole attention of the animal, with all its powers, is bound to answer. Hence arise those dreadful contests in the brute creation, from the lion in the woods, to the dog who seizes the bone. Hence the ship, when her provisions are spent, and she becalmed, casts a savage eye upon hu- man sacrifices ; and hence the attention of the lower ranks of men are too far engrossed for mental pursuit. They see, like Esau, the honours of their family de- voured with a ravenous appetite. A man with an empty cupboard would make but a wretched philosopher. But, if fortune should smile upon one of the lower race, raise him a step above his original standing, and give him a prospect of independence, he immediately begins to eye the arms upon carriages, examines old records for his name, and inquires where the Heralds' Office is kept. Thus, when the urgency of nature is\ set at liberty, the bird can whistle upon the branch, the fish play upon the' surface, the goat skip upon the mountain, and even man himself can bask in the sunshine of science. conversation did not at all relate to me, or to the place of our destination, and at length 1 became so completely engrossed by my own painful thoughts, as to pay little or no attention to them, althoueh the boldness and freedom ottheir looks at fiist serionsly alarmed and disgusted me. " Several hours we continued to travel iu this manner, never stopping on the road, and the scenery undergoing very little change. In fact, it. appeared as if we had got into another country altogether, for the prospect had no- thing at all of the beautiful and picturesque character of English scenery. " We passed through but one solitary hamlet, the in- habitants of which seemed to be wrapped in sleep, for I did not perceive a single light in any of the casements of their miserable hut.-, nor did I observe any person stirring about.; and even if I had, I entertained considerable doubt whether they would have had either the will or the power to assist me; I could, therefore, do nothing else thau resign myself to my tate, looking up to the Supreme Being as my only hope of relief. . " At length the darkness gradually vanished, the first red streaks of dawn appeared in the eastern horizon, and the vehicle suddenly emerged into a scene of less well- ness. The birds began to carol forth their sweetest note's to welcome in the'day, and the hardy rustic might be seen plodding his way to his diurnal labours, with a coun- tenance ruddy with health, and a brow upon which con- tent and happiness had stamped themselves. Oh ! how I envied them their lot, and willingly would I have given up fortune and rank, to be free and undisturbed by care as thev were. Several times I was half inclined to appeal to them, and solicit their aid in rescuing me, but the fe- rocious and threatening glances of the ruffians withheld me, and we proceeded'in silence. " At length the lofty turrets of a castle met my gazs* and it was soon evident thai, that was the place of our destination. It was blackened by time, and covered with, moss and ivy. It was surrounded by a deep moat, and al- together presented the most impregnable appearance. " Having arrived at the castle, on£ of the ruffiaus alighted, and blew three loud blasts On his horn, upon which the drawbridge was immediately let down, and we passed over, and entering at ihe gates, which were opentd by an old, grey- headed porter of the most forbidding as- pect, we passed through an extensive court yard, and having alighted from the vehicle, I was ushered into a spacious hall, decorated with all the pomp of feudal splendour, and which, hearing the armorial trappings of the ancient house of Harlingwood, 1 was convinced thai the castle belonged to that nobleman, and had an idea of what part of the country we were in ; but what could he tbe jarl's motive for removing me thither, I could.. pWt imagine aS I Should have been equally safe at Harling- wood Castle, and quite as securely in his power, as L, could possibly be whei'C they had brought me. " After passing through several apartments, we stopped at the door ot one, Which opened tbe western gallery of the ancient edifice, and here one o. f conductors having unlocked the door, I was desired 1° walk, ln>. The following is an exposure of the untradesman- like plan which Mr. Cbrk has thought proper to adopt in order to injure this periedical, and push his own trashy affair. If Mr. C. imagines he will advance the sale of his own publication by a system of robbery, we fancy he will find himself most egre- giously mistaken ; ds to any attempt o » his part to stay the unlimited caurse of our circulation, we treat it with the il[ iost superlative contempt, and did not Mr. C. know his own weakness, he certainly would prefer acting in a fair spirit of competition, rather than the paltry and dishonest system he is at present pursuing with regard to this journal. With- out any further comment, we will proceed to facts, and leave the public to judge, not doubting but that they will duly appreciate the praiseworthy exertions of Mr. C., and reward him accordingly. NOTICE! We have received numerous accounts of bare- faced swindles committed upon the country trade by the publishers in London that supply them. Among ethers we have one from Mr. Garrad. of Ipswich, who states,—" I requested Mr. Clark, of Warwick Lane, to send me a quantity of " PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," and judge of my surprise when he only sent me one dozen, and those WITHOUT THE PRESENT." We have slso received another from Mr. Barraclough, of Sheffield, stating that he or- dered thirteen quire of " PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," and that Mr. Clark only sent eight, and those WITHOUT THE PRESENT, and requesting us in future to send them direct to him, far that his cus- tomers would not take any rubbish Mr. C. chose to substitute. Mr. C., on a former occasion, sent forty quire of PENNY SUNDAY TIMES" to Mr. M'Dermot, and appropriated the presents to his own purpose ; but when compelled to give them up, lie made a paltry excuse that he thought Mr. M'Dermot would not like to pay the extra carriage of them. We have also received numerous complaints from the public at not receiving the present with the TIMES,— all we can do is to advise them, as we do the country book- sellers to do with Mr. Clark, to go somewhere else. OBSERVE!— No. 65. together with the present, is still on sale at One Penny, and any persons selling the one without the other are robbing the purchasers. ERNNESTINE DE LACY! OR, THE ROBBER'S FOUNDLING. BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE DEATH OKASP," ETC ( Continued from our last.) TO CORRESPONDENTS. S. W.— If Mister G. ROBERTS, of Kennington, boasts of being the author of the celebrated romance of " KATHLEEN; OR, THE SECRET MARRIAGE," he tells an untruth. The author is a gentleman of great emi- nence in the literary worhl. MR. ROBERTS maybe very well known in the tap- rooms of Kennington, but we have certainly never heard of' him. and have no wish io know a fellow who has evidently not more brains than would fill a nut- shell. We cannot afford S. MORJ. F. V, ( Utt<; xeter,) the informa- tion he requires. W. JONES.— Not Original. F. FRYER.— We cannot say. W. SIMPSON, ( Portsmouth,) will not exactly suit. Accepted: O. KEOGH'S Riddle. " MUNGO."— We cannot hold out any promise, our ar- rangements being complete. J. KANE. — They will not suit. " A GRATEFUL INQUIRER," ( Worcester,) is a booby. R. S.— We cannot say, at present. Those correspondents whose Charades or Solutions are not either answered or inserted, may conclude that they have either arrived too late, or will not suit. " ' It is useless your putting any questions to us, voung lady, for you will get no satisfactory reply. It is sufficient for you to know that you are in the power of your guar- dian, tbe Earl of Harlingwood, by whose orders we act.' " ' Good God !' I thought to myself,' what can be his motives for removing me from ihe castle, and whither are they taking me ? I am lost, I am lost, for doubtless the earl has determined to put his diabolical threats into exe- cution, aud there is no one that I know who can interpose to save me.' " These were the reflections that passed In my mind only, for 1 did not attempt to give them utterance, know- ing full well that I should meet with no pity from the ruffians who had me in their power. " The vehicle'still continued to roll on its course at a rapid rate, and the men maintained the utmost silence, not even exchanging a word one with the other. By the howling of the wind I could hear that it was boisterous weather; and soon afterwards one of the men let down the blinds, when 1 found that it was night, apd that the wild tract of country over which we were travelling was but dimly lighted by the lurid beams ofthe inoou. " We were at this time crossing a barren ni- jor, and as far as the eye could stretch, through the almost impene- trable darkness, no prospect could be more cheerless. Not an habitation could be seen, and the place seemed to be little frequented. Fit spot, thoughtfl, for the perpe- tration of deeds of darkness; and as these idea? crossed my mind, my blood turned icy cold, I shuddered, and looked at my companions with a feeling of uncoucroulable horror. " What part ofthe country we were in, I, of course, had no means of judging, nor ihe time vve had beeu tra- velling; but it was evidently several hours, from the dark- ness which prevailed, and which led me to imagine that it was at least midnight. These ideas were followed by one that caused me considerable pain ( for it is paiuful to be led to suppose those in whom we have placed our con- fidence, aud whom we have believed to be our friends, have deceived us). When I reflected that it was from Geraldine I had received ihe wine, with which was doubt- less mixed some powerful drug, I began strongly to sus- pect that she was acquaiaed with the plot, and had pan- dered to the base designs of the earl. Yet, on more ma- ture reflection, I upbraided myself for entertaining such a suspicion, and entirely acquitted her of having any parti- cipation in the plot. " I need not, 1 am sure, attempt to describe my feelings to you, gentle lady, as the vehicle moved on its way; I felt as if I were being borne to destruction, and, although It is hard to die iu all our youth and freshness, death to me at ih » t time would have been preferable to the terri- ble and certain fate which seemed to be impending over ine. Alas! what would be the agony, the distraction" of my lover, and his disgust at the cruelty of his unnatural parent, did be but know the situation in which 1 was placed. And yet he had foreboded evil, and had it not been for the duty he owed bis king and country, nothing would ever have induced him to leave me. Alas! mine was a terrible fate, to have no one near at hand to inter- pose to rescue me from the guilty designs of a villain, whom it would be a libel on the human race to call a man. These thoughts, too, wcre succeeded by others of a still more painful nature, if possible; namely, the base meaus that had beeu resorted to to prevail upon my father to make so stringent and tyrannical a document, for I was confident that he never could of his own tree will, or iu bis rational moments, consign his only child to the great- est possible misery. Thoughts like ihese filled me with the most indescribable horror, and added to the anguish I endured al the situation in which I was unfortunately placed, a situation trom which I saw no prospect what- ever of being released, " The inoor was several miles in extent, and during the time we were crossing it I did not see a single individual. It was one wide expanse of gloom and horror. Haviug crossed this, we entered a tract of couutry scarcely less dismal; it consisted of hills, intersected with ravines, down which, 111 tbe almost utter daikness which pievailed, we were in danger ot being precipitated every moment. Not the least signs of a human habitation met my gaze, and despair seemed to surround me. I never remembered to have seen the men by whom I was guarded before, but their savage featuies ami determined manners were suffi- cient to convince uie that they were capable of perpetrat- ing any deed, however monstrous; and that the earl should have such creatures iu his pay, gave me a greater proof tliau all of his villijuy. Thus sin rounded by danger, and in the power of one who was evidently familiar with crime, what hope was there for me?— I wrung my hands, and clasping my Suniiug temples, sank back in the carriage, completely overpowered by the agony of despair. " The men occasionally spoke to each other jn under- tones, but from what 1 could hear, the subject of their which, having done, the' door was closed npwn me> locked and bolted, and I was thus left to myself. " I looked around me, and found myself in a suite nf handsomely furnished rooms, of lofty and commo- dious description; in one of which was placed a bed, which seemed to have been but recently placed there for my accommodation. I threw myself upon it in despair, aud covering my face with my hands, gave myself up entirely to despair. " I remained for about two hours in this situation, without any interruption, when I heard the key turning in the lock of the door, and the bolts being withdrawn, and immediately afterwards an old woman, of wrinkled and repulsive appearance entered, bringing with her refresh- ments, which she placed upou the table, and in harsh and disagreeable tones, desired me to partake, as I had had a long journey, and could, therefore, no doubt, find an ap- petite. My heart was, however, too full to eat, and turning towards the old woman with a look of supplica^ tion, 1 requested that she would, inform me why I was brought thither, and whether the earl was in the castle. " ' As for why tjion art brought hither, young lady,' replied the woman, ' I dare say tliou kiiowest as well a3 I do, because thou art a fool, and hath refused to accept of the hand of the earl, Thou wilt see him thyself in the course of the day, and I do not doubt but that thou wilt then be taught that it is worse than madness to attempt to oppose the will of his lordship.* " I turned from the old woman with a feeling of the most irrepressible disgust, and did not deign to make her any reply, but my bosom swelled with indignation, and it was with difficulty I could forbear ihe full'expres- sion of my'feelings. Finding that I was not inclined to say anything more to her, the old woman almost imme- diately afterwards quitted the room, much to my relief, for I COirtd not gaze upOu her repulsive countenance with- out a'sentiment of the most unbounded disgust. " The words , of the old woman had added to the anguish and terror which 1 had before experienced, and iu a paroxysm of agony, I gave myself op entirely as lost.. 1 implored the interposition of Heaven, and had scarcely arisen from my knees, when I heard someone at the room door, and immediately afterwards it was opened, and the earl stood before me. " He gazed at me for a fetv seconds in silence, and an expression of triumph and exultation passed over hi* features ; but soon afterwards he advanced nearer to- wards me, and in a voice of boldness, said :— , " ' Welcome, fair Blanche to St. Osbert's Castle. Thou, probably, did not anticipate such a journey, and thou mayest thank thine own obstinacy and contumacy that thou hast beeu put to the inconvenience of it. At Harling- wood Castle there were several obstacles to the comple- tion of my project, but here there are none ; and I now come to thee 110 longer to solicit, but to command. I will no longer be tampered with by the perverse opposi- tion of a silly girl, but enforce that compliance which I have hitherto sued for; prepare thyself, Blanche; this evening makes thee my bride.' " Overwhelmed with terror at the boldness and deter- mination of his manner, I ihrew myself at his feet, and with clasped hands and streaming eyes, implored him to forbear, but he turned from me with indifference, arid going towaids the door, said as he opened it:— " ' Thou hast heard my determination ;— that determi- nation is unalterable. Adieu till the evening, when I shall come to conduct thee to the altar.' " Without saying another word, the earl bowed to me and retired." ( To bs continued in our next.) CROSS READINGS. Yesterday - tier Majesty and Prince Albert attended divine ser- vice In Segar end Evan's distillery ! We were highly amused yesterday with a private inspection of Her Majesty s foot I— decidedly tbe smallest In the king- dom ! It ts rumoured that Prlnc. Albert is engaged on an historical pali. ting, the subjeet of which Is the learned horse at Windsor spelling-—- for a place. Yesterday a man was accidentally killed by a cannon bait bis death made no Impression on liis murderous assailant. A lady nf title was chargad yesterday with having pneketed a fleet of fourteen war steamers, with ammunition and m. n. N. B. The policeman who swore to the fact was drunk. It Is said that when the boy Jones was taken Into custody, there was found in hiB pocket Lord Melbourne and other gentlemen stuffing in the good things nf her Majesty's larder. The great number of Mue bottles that infest the metropolis is at- tributed to the Earl of Cardigan, who hatches them by steam I A very numerous and respectable meeting was held at the Lon- don Tavern for the purpose of - forgiog a live pound Bank of England Note. Notice is hereby glren that Van AmburRh's elephant will perform every evening the curious trick of cutting his owu throat aud stabbing his wife I— Admittance, one shilling An Irish girl, who lived servant in an English family, being asked if she had cleared the pantry to prevent the mice getting the victuals, replied—" And to be sure I have, there's everything taken out and the rest covered over." An Irishman was lately asked what he thought ofthe United Kingdom. " United!" says Teague, " Aud who was after telling you such a lie ?- Why, honey, the sea parts them. A Teague, who had but one eye, met, early in the morning, one who had a crooked back, and said to him-" Friend you are loaded betimes." " It is early indeed," replied the other, " for you have but one of your windows open." In one of the late revolutionary battles in Ireland, a rebel hair- dresser ran up to the mouth of a cannon, to which an artilleryman was just applying a match, and thrusting his head into its mouth, exclaimed, the mo- ment before he was blown to atoms, " By Jasus, I have stopped your mouth, my honey, for this time." There are three families of the following names ia Croydon, Surrey,— fVild- goose, Sage, and Onion. THE PENNy>& UNI>* f TIMES iATND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. THE) ROYAL FAVOURITE, AN ORIGINAL ROMANOK. ,. { Continued from our. last.) " Who is. this ?" suddenly exclaimed Gilbert. '' He that rides so furiously, along the road, throwing back- ward glances, as if pursued ? By St. Peter, but he car- ries a lady in his arms, and makes for the Eleemo- synary !"" -: " Down, boy, down to his assistance 1" exclaimed the old rfta. ti, impatiently ; " it is oiie of a truly noble iia- ture, mid to whose family I atn deeply indebted." " And there is our Lion by his side," again said the youth. " There is something in this I cannot under- stand," he muttered to himsilf, as lie hurried to the space, fronting the house, aud awaited the coining ofthe horsenia" n. ' „• « ! • On came the rider with the speed of lightning, pre- ceded by Lion, who led the way to the spot where Gil- bert stood awaiting them. I' Is this the house of one called Gilbert, the Chaser •'" cried the stranger, iu a voice of authority, " It is," replied the youth- " Then." said the ranger, " here T must Slight-.* T am pursued by i. Ue soldiers of Elizabeth, and 1 would seek the protection of the sanctua- y. Too much time would b » lost by my going through the northern tran- scend of the abbey, therefore 1 must use the secret pas- Sage in your house." " You are deceived, sfr," replied Gilbert; " I have lived in this house since a boy, and never yet saw or heard of such a passage." " Alight, noble sir!" said a.. voice behind Gilbert, " and enter the house quickly} for your pursuers are close- at hand. 1 saw them from my window. I will soon con- duct you to the sanctuary." Gilbert turned in astonishment, and beheld his father. " You jest, surely," he, at length, exclaimed. " Silence 1" said the old man. " Assist the gallant from his horse— for, see, he is heavily burthened." But when Gilbert turned towards the ' stranger, lie had already alighted, and stood ( with ihe female in his arms), wrapped in^ dark cloak) awaiting to enter the house. " Follow me," said the old man; and he and the stranger disappeared. Gilbert stooped but to give the horse a lash that sent him galloping along the road, and then entering the house, secured the doorfirrhly behind him."' " ... .., - When he reached the room to which his father had conducted the stranger, he was surprised to see that neither of them were there. The dog, Lion, Was quietly stretched on the floor at the opposite side of the room, as if guarding that particular spot from intrusion. Gilbert advanced towards tiini, and drawing aside the tapestry, beheld what he had never dreamed of looking for before— a sliding- pannel in the wall, through which his father and the stranger had left the room. Letting fall the tapestry, he approached the window, wb;, j'n was now closed, and listened intently. ? amt s0Unds of horses were heard in the direct.-, of thfe aWje and he , now saw clearly the l> roietlce of the stranger, in not at- tempting an en imnce by the uorthern transcept. He turned '^ vl, al.(] s the door of tbe room, and firmly secure- d ', and then drawing his sword, patiently awaited the * eturn of his father. fn about an hour, his father returned, but not alone, as Gilbert had expected. He led by the hand a beau- tiful girl of about twelve years of age, who appeared excessively agitated and alarmed by the dangers which she had escaped. She was enveloped in a man's riding cloak, which prevented Gilbert from set ing her dress; but, from a certain air that pervaded her whole de- meanour, he felt certain that she belonged to the higher class of society., " Gilbert," said the old man, " go instantly and fetch Margaret. This tender blossom requires gentler at- tendance than she can receive at our hands. " But the stranger " exclaimed Gilbert, inquir- ingly. " The maiden's father," replied old Philip ; " he is in a place of safety for the present. Have a little patience my son, and, ere long, a time may come when I shall be allowed to clear up this mysterious affair to your sa- tisfaction. In the mean time, 1 hope that you will treat Jane, for that is her name, with all the respect due to a sister." Gilbert bowed to his father, and left his room to execute his mission; and, iu a short time, the love y stranger was daily installed under the tender charge of > thc good old dame, Margaret. We. will now return to the stranger. On alighting from his horse he had followed Philip to the tapestry chamber, still beariiis his senseless burthen. " I am afraid, my lord," said Philip, " that the spring is rusty, for it has uot been used for many years." He lifted the tapestry in au obscure partof the room, and touched a spring in the wall; the wainscotting flew hack in every direction, and disclosed a secret passage, with a flight of stone steps- the bottom of which was lost in impenetrable darkness. The stranger entered the aperture, and Philip fol- lowed, bearing a lami). Lion attempted to accompany them, but Philip repulsed him with, " Back, sir, back," and the dog, as if he understood the words, quietly crouched to the ground, aud took up his position before the door. " We will leave the pannel unclosed," said Philip.— " My son will return, and be much surprised at our dis- appearance, but that will quiet his feurs." " Be it so," said the stranger, " but let tis hasten on, or my enemies will gain the sanctuary before me, and prevent any entrance." They now hurried on through several vaulted cham- bers, and at last reached the range of vaults lhat served S9 burial place's for tbe proudest of England's nobles. Hows of skulls and bones were arranged on each side, and the plated ornaments of ihe Collins flashed dimly as the puny light of the lamp shone on them. Numbers of vermin were also there— for the patter of their tiny feet were heard as they fled over the mouldering coffin*, aroused by the unexpected intruders. Several times did the cold blasts of air nearly extinguish their lamp, and it was with the greatest difficulty that Philip could keep it aliglu. Philip at length, opened a small iron- bound door, and the party ascended a flight of stone steps,— in the next moment they were within the shadow of the beautifully sculptured pillars of the choir. " Hark!" said Philip; " what noise was that? Me- thought 1 heard the sound of hurried footsteps, and the closing of a door." " ' lis but some prjest hastening to his devotions," re- plied the stranger, drawing the cloak closer round the form he carried. " Have you the key that opens the door ofthe screen ?" Before Philip, however, could answer this question, the door at the further end of the choir was thrown sud- from five or six • marble floor of the chapel, and, under , the. friendly shadow ofthe pillars, reached tile tomb unperceived by the soldiers, who were then occupied in securing to themselves a safe descent. He soon found the door, land to his great satisfaction, it yielded noiselessly to his touch; he hurried up the winding stairs, and ihe sound of the soldiers' voices were soon lost in the dis- tance. When the soldiers reached the ground, they were much surprised to see the chapel empty, for the door behind the tomb was known but to very few. They collected together, and gaied at each other with af- frighted and troubled looks. -," By the mass," exclaimed one, who appeared , to be the principal.." hut there is magic liere, and it were useless to follow him further I" " Magic '." cried a second, " why it must be the devil himself. Here we follow bim on the road close at his heels, with the moon shining on us all the while, or the light of his castle, and that's all ihe same thing, and when we catch up to'him we Una nothing but his horse. Piml hlqi ( tgain. at the abbey ; catch him in a trap, as we tliiiiit. and he is invisible again, " Well," cried another, " let him be Ihe devil or not, I'll renjuin hpfe While yon scareh the other parts of the abbey ; " and, by'r Lady, should I find him here, lie shall die a flea's death 1 ' " We'll accept your offer, Hugoline," replied the others; " though, thou braggart, recollect that Lord Talbot is no child to play wilh." He replied only with a. look of scorn, and they di- rectly after left the chapel in the same way they had reached it. Hiigoline ' tfaitea fill they had. disappeared, and then walked boldly to the tomb. " Sister!" he ex- claimed, you shall now be revenged 1" he passed rapidly through the door, and, having the advantage of a torch, gained rapidly on the earl, who had several times nearly lost himself in the many windings of the galleries. V ... Talbot had reached the end of the gallery, and was unbrffrihg the door leading to the top of ( he northern- most of the two towers, when he was alarmed by the flashing of a light along the walls of the gallery, and by the voice of a man calling furiously upon him to stop. denly open, and a blaze of light, torches, carried by as many soldiers in the royal uni- form, suddenly illumined the whole place, and disco- vered the presence of the fugitives to their pursuers. ~ " The Earl! the Earl!" shouted they, aud they rushed towards the spot, Old Philip instantly snatched the female from Lord Talbot's arms, ( for it was ( hat unfortunate noble,) and retreating towards the iron door through which they entered, exclaimed, " Quick 1 my lord, quick! climb the screen, gain the Sanctuary, and you are safe !" The next instant he had disappeared, and the earl heard the door safely bolted. He hesitated not a mo- ment, but mounted the screen, and easily gained the top, with the assistance of the carved oaken ornament. By the time he had reached the ground on the opposite side, he heard hit pursuers encouraging each other to follow his example, and he drew his sword, determining to sell his life as dearly ss possible. All was now quite dark, he saw it was not possible for him to reach tbe Sanctuary, and he knew not what to do. " By St. Paul 1 but we have him now !" exclaimed a gruffvoice. " He cannot escape us." " Ah, so you said when he guv « us the slip in the road, just now." At that instant a flash of light from one of the torches, as the men reached the top of the screen, gave a faint view of the place he was now in,— he recognized it instantly,— it was the Chapel of Edward the Confes- sor. He knew that behind the tomb of that pious king, there was a small door, leading ( through the flying but- tresses of the northern transept, and along the topmost gallery of ihe nave,) to ihe western towers. If he could gain this, he hoped yet to make his escape. His child was safe, and he had still something left to live for. The earl stole silently and cautiously across the Hastily drawing back tile remaining holts, he darted up the stairs, closing ihe door after him ; but there were no fastenings on the inner side. In another moment he had reached tire belfrey, and he heard the voice of his pursuer coming louder to his ear every instant. An- other flight of stone steps was rapidly ascended, and he reached the top of the tower, but as he stepped on the roof, he heard < he footsteps of the soldier echoing loudly as he ascended the stairs the earl had just quitted. He placed himself under the shadow of the turrets, walled with painful anxiety for the appear- ance of his enemy. He had lost his sword in climbing the screen, and was destitute of any other arms. Nearer ahij nearer came the sound of the footsteps, and before tnany seconds had elapsed, the soldier, still bearing his torch, and with his sword drawn, appeared at the top'of the stairs. As he was passing through the door wilh precipitate eagerness, he stumbled, and the torch flew out of his hand aud was extinguished. He recovered himself . instantly, and exclaiming, " Now, wretch, receive the vengeance of an injured brother !" rushed towards the earl. " Strike !'' exclaimed the earl; " I am unarmed. But why \ e seek my life so furiously I know not," " Then," said the soldier, throwing his sword over the battlements ofthe tower, " we are novr equal. But one of us must follow that good sword, and that quickly, too. You cannot already have forgotten the name of Kathleen O'Neil , nor that of her brother. 1 need not say more, for thy looks assure me that you have not." The earl had not forgotten the fair Kathleen, whom he had seen at her father's castle in Ireland, where he ( the earl) had been as Lieutenant of the Pall. On the return ofthe troops to England, he had persuaded her to leave her father's halls, and accompany him to Lon- don. She did so ; and, from lhat hour, peace had not visited her breast. She returned to her home but in lime to die at her father's feet, and ber brother had sworn to avenge her ruin and her death;— it Was that brother who now stood, glaring with fury, before the hitherto undaunted Talbot, for many days be had sought the seducer, but had been unable to reach him. He had joined the party sent against the earl's castle, and, during the conflagration, had seen his" flight and followed him to where he now stood. The earl did not reply to Hugoline's taunts, but put himself upon the defensive. They gradually closed upon each othei- j and grappled furiously. It was a struggle for life and dealh, and each put forth bis ut- most strength. The muon was now shining brightly, and, as Talbot looked in Hugoline's countenance, dis- torted by every furious passion, his heart shook within him, for the first time in his life. .. Gradually, the superior strength of the Irish moun- taineer prevailed over that of the earl, gigantic and athletic as he was, and slowly, but surely, was lie dragged towards the utmost verge ofthe tower. A low battlement of about a foot high, alone protected the roof on the western side, aud they were now within a few inches of it. They both collected all their remain- ing streogth for a last struggle; determining, il either should fail, to perish together. In another instant, the earl would have been launched into eternity, for Hugo- line, by a gigantic effort had attempted to lift him, and hurl him into lire space below; but his foot slipped, and he fell violently with bis head upon the battlement. The earl lost not a moment in profitting by this advan- tage. Before Hugoline could recover himself from the sudden shock, he had seized him firmly round the waist, and, in the next moment, his body fell with a dull, dead crash, upon one ofthe Hying buttresses that sup- posed the, roof of the nave. He had fallen completely across it,— his hack had broken,— but he was slill pain- fully alive to his horrible situalion. The earl, by the light of the moon, combined with that proceeding from his own flaming castle, could plainly perceive him, and his piercing cries smote him to the very heart. The terrors of conscience were now added to those of his dangerous situation, and from every shadowy corner of the abbey, his distempered imagination pictured to him the image of the heart- broken Kathleen, her fair tresses waving in ihe wind, and her dark eyes— now dimmed by the grave, turned mournfully upon him, as if reproaching him for the mur- der qf her brother. But still he could not withdraw his eyes from the dying man,— it seemed as if a spell was on him, and his blood had turned to fire within him. Hugoline's cries were becoming every instant fainte and fainter ; at last, by a desperate effort, lie succeeded in putting an end to his agonies at once; he feil from the buttress,— a height of one hundred and twenty feet, — on to the stone pavement below, and all was over. Talbot now broke the spell, and tore himself from the dreadful scene. He hurried across the gallery that joined the towers, and rapidly descended the stone stairs of the southernmost tower, the bottom of which he reached in safety. A small postern now gave him egress from the abbey, and lie hastened across the fields towards the river. He soon gained Ihe bank, but there was not a boat of any kind within sight. Continuing his path westward for a short distance, he soon reached the cottage* of a ferryman, whom, by his repeated ktrockings, lie aroused Irorn hit slumbers, and requested to be ferried across the river. The man at first hesi- tated, but the earl's gold prevailed, and he promised to be ready in a few moments". As the earl stood on the bank, impatiently awaiting the appearance of the ferryman, and pondering deeply over the many events of that evening, he was suddenly startled by ihe sounds of approaching voices. He turned towards the spot from whence they proceeded, and perceivfed a party of soldiers, armed with arque- busses, approaching the ferry- house, apparently for the same purpose as himself. The moment ( hey perceived him, they set up a loud shout and hastened towards him. " By the Holy Virgin!" exclaimed he, " but you shall be disappointed. I may yet gain the other side, of the river, for the water is smooth, and they have fur- nished me with plenty of light for my purpose.'' He hesitated not a moment, but plunged headlong into the rivet. A cry of disappointment arose . from the soldiers as lie disappeared, and the instant he. came to the surface, he was saluted with a shower of balls. He, however, escaped unhurt* and dived again beneath the surface of the water. Some of the men now went to quic. ken the ferryman's movements, while the others reloaded t'qeir arquebusses, and impatiently awaited the earl's re- appearance. A second time did he emerge from the stream, and again was he saluted by the con- tents of their pieces. Some one of them had taken effect;— he uttered one cry of anguish, and disappeared from their sight. At that moment a cloud overspread the moon, and the falling of some of the castle walls stifled the flames, and all was wrapt in an impenetrable darkness. . When the clouds cleaned away, and the flames once more resumed their mastery, the river was flowing quietly by, no ripple on its treacherous surface told where the body of the earl } ay at peace. The soldiers turned in silence frorrt the river* and joined theip com* patiions at the castle. T^ e news of theeajTs death soon spread around, and the men, finding their work of de- struction completed, returned ip triumph to the city. » [( To be continued in our next%) FREDERICK AND EMILY. . " Who is that lovely girl tbat has just passed up the street, ac- companied by an elderly female?" asked my young' friend, Fre- derick de Vere. " Her name is unknown to me j but her parents, I believe, died when she was very young, and she has since lived with her grand- mother, the old lady mA saw , with her," 1 replied. , " Do you know whetb they reside dertian^ ied h6. " Indeed I do not ; but I haVe'Often seen them of an evening taking their walk, and the youthful Creature always pays- as much attention to her aged grandmother as if, her very soul centered in her to make; ber happy. I mast own she is the most beautiful maiden I ever saw." '"' ' ' 44 Yes, she is indeed beautiful," he continued; " I have seen those that are reckoned the most lovely and beautiful women, but never did I see such an amiable and engaging countenance, as hers: she has made so deep an impression on my heart, that I feel it wlll. never. be effaced ; had sh'e Que farthing iii the wOrlii I would prefer4 her to a princess." 1 ' As I had Some letters to write, we separated. I saw no rhore of him that day; but he came early the next morning, and continued with me the week, almost always talking of her who had taken such an effect upon him at first sight. One evening we were walking through the churchyard, when, in a retired part. We saW the fair unknown and her grandmother, ap- parently kneeling over a grave. We concealed ourselves" from their view : they soon after left. We then went to the spot they had just quitted; tiie stone was simple, and the name of Colonel Wil- liams, aged 41, and Emily, his beloved wife, aged 36, wasengraved thereon. We were leaving tiie Spot when Frederick hastily picked something up, that proved to be a bracelet of great beauty, and the- initials E. W. inside: he gazed upon it with delight. We. re- sumed our walk for some length of time, and returning hpme, we passed again through the silent churchyard, where we seated our- selves upoii the grave of the departed Colonel Williams. We were ih deep conversation, When our attention was arrested by the sound of approaching footsteps; we turne'd to see the intruder ; he was a noble- looking; youth, in the dress of a page ; . he approached. us with a graceful and modest ait; fixed his large blue eyes upon us, and begged to knOw if We had found a bracelet near the grave upon which we were sitting? tie then gave a minute description of it ; Frederick took it from his pocket', and the moment the youhg page saw it, he exclaimed,— " That iS the one! Oh, how delighted my dear young mistress will be when she again beholds it, for it was the gift of her mother, who is dead.'' - <, Frederick begged tofknow the name Of his young mistress.. 44 Her name is Williams ; she is living with her grandmother.— She is, sir, almost an angel, for every one loves her : the poor love her for her benevolence ; her equals love her for her affability;— and the rich love her for her gentleness and sensibility of manners," replied he. 44 She, most likely, has a host of admirers. Is there not one whom she has favoured with her love ?." asked my friend. 44 There is not one whom shtf seems to have fixed her affections on," replied Lewis, ( for such was his name). Frederick whispered to me— 44 Should this prove the fair un- known. I can almost fancy it must be her." " But," I replied, 44 if It should not, you will forget the other, When in company with this." ** No, never can I forget," he replied; for Lewis had told us it was the wish of the young lady that whoever had found it, was to be brought to her, and they should be well regarded. We readily agreed to proceed to her residence, a beautifully si- tuated cottage— the roses and jessamine growing up in front ot it. We could have spent the whole day looking upon this Lovely re- treat; when Frederick saw the inmates, he seemed transfixed to the spot. We were cordially received by Mrs, Harciay, ( for that was the name'of the old lady); although the lovely Emily did not express her pleasure with words* yet, were we doubly repaid by her smiles, and her eyes, at once, too plainly showed that, which the tongue refused to utter, t love an expressive eye; the tohgiie may deceive— the eye can never. Frederick's supposition was right ;— in the iovely and youthful Emily'Williams did we behold the fair unknown, such being the appellation we gave her. The second or third time of our visiting them, I begged to know of Emily if she had forgotten her promise. She- smiled—' began apologizing for her forgetfulness— and said she was'ready to perform it, if she had promised me anything. I then a& ked if ^ he had not promised lo reward those who should have found the bracelet. Now, my Mend has found and restored it to you, and yet you have not rewarded him, or, at least, not that I am aware of. She blushed, and said that when she promised to reward those who returned it, she did not for a moment think but that it would be © ne whom she Could in some measure repay ; and if Mr. Frederick would tell her how, or in what way she could serve or repay him for his kindness, she would, willingly do it. As she concluded this, she raised her eyes from the ground, aud gave him such a look, which fully shewed to me he was repaid already. He laughed, and said that he would not at present make his demand; but, when he did, he hoped it would be compiled with. Mrs. Harciay, in a good humoured man- ner, told him he must well consider it before he made his request. We soon after lett, well pleased with our acquaintance. Frederick could talk of nothing but the lovely Emily— her raven tresses, and jet black eyes. 44But," said I, " she has had several admirers, I believe; but suppose there is one for whom she feels a mutual flame, and soon will give her hand where she has bestowed her fieart?" He gazed at me for some minutes, and then said,— 14 When her heart is engaged to another I feel mine wOuld soon cease to beat— for, from the first moment I saw her I have felt a sensation I never experienced before. But," continued he, 44 it must not— cannot be engaged. When I begged to. be allowed to call to- morrow evening, her eyes were bent to the ground, and her lovely cheeks covered with blushes, while her grandmother re- quested of us to call on the following evening." He was occupied the remainder of the day making preparations to go i the time passed very slowly with hinu At length the hour arrived when we were to depart for the cottage. We found them alone: they had expected us some time before we arrived. We spent the evening very pleasantly, I never saw Frederick in better spirits, and I must say Emily appeared quite " nappy.' She obliged us with playing on the harp; her fingers run over the cords as lightly as her spirits appeared to be. The time passed too quickly for Frederick; thu hour for departure arrived belore we were aware that half the evening had passed. He continued a constant visitor for some time, and appeared a great favourite with Mrs. Harciay, and no less with Emily. Qne morning he hurried into my room, having an open letter in his hind; and said,— 44 Read this;" then threw himself upon the sofa, and appeared in no very pleasant reverie. The letter was to order him to join his ship in less than a week; he was quite unprepared to receive a recall so soon, as he expected to spend, at least, six months in England, and he had not been more than four; but circumstances that he was not made acquainted with gendered it impossible to stay longer. 4' This really is most provoking," said I. 44 What must be done concerning Miss Williams?" 411 have been thinking of that," said he; 44 it makes me quite unhappy. We will go and see if it effects lovely Emily at all— for she has no idea that my home, for the present, is on the boundless wave." The day passed very heayily with him. Evening, at length, when he bid them famVell; rising emotions choked his utterance, and I think there was not one present but shed a tear. 1, at length, succeeded in leading him aWay. He retired to rest almost as soon as he arrived at home. I must pass over his departure and journey. Suffice to say, he arrived at his ship safe, and set sail the next day. I frequently vi- sited Mrs. Harciay and Emily. One evening I was taking tea with them, Mrs. Ha'reiay hinted she should like to hear Frederick's hls- tbry. 1 said it Was very short, but I would recite it with pleasure. I began as follows s— 44 Frederick is the oniy son of Count de Vere ; th£ re are three daughters, the' eldest: of whom is married'. At a very early age he evinced a great- desire for - the ocean; but his father did not see any occasion far. his going, as he had, sufficient property to distribute between his Children to live in affluence the remainder of their days ; ] mt all the remonstrances were useless, as nothing Would content him bu t the sea. He had an uncle com- mander of , a ship ; with him he went his first voyage, and it suited his brave spirit < sp, welli that he thought nothing would wean him from ib: he has bren another voyage since, and has always evinced great pleasure when they began their voyage again, until this last time, when he was moat unhappy oh learning they would sail so soon. He'is now nineteen fears of age; and wheii he re- turns will take his fortune, and solicit the hand of her who has taken possession of his heart. If he should be so liappy as to gain it, he will never tempt the ocean more; but, should lie nofcsucr ceed, then I am convinced he will never know any other home than the boundless waves." I looked at Emily as I said this; her check was as pale as death, and sh'e sank motionless on the couch - it was some time before we could restore her, which & i length was accomplished, - She burst into tear. s, and that seemed to relieve her; she then said it was very foolish of her not to be able to govern her feelings better than this ; but, prayed forgiveness— as a sensation came over her that she never experienced before. I thought it would be. better forme to'go, and accordingly 1 soon after left. Mrs. Harelay promised that she would relate Emily's history when I visited them again, as I had before expressed a wish to hea, r it. I . paid them, a visit as soon as possible, as, I vvas anxious to hear a little of the history: it was evening when I arrived there. Emily complained of indisposition, and begged to be allowed to retire to rest, which request was granted . by. her indulgent grand- marrima. I slipped the following stanzas in her hand, as she left the room t^ i . :' " Why does . the blush o'erspread thy cheek ? Whene'er the name of Frederick's spokes, Thy down cast look, aud eye so meek, Too plainly shows young Cupid's token. What, makes thy gentle bosom heave— Thy tongue once firm, now often falters j Virglus first flame can ne'er deceive, Thy spotleSS truth can ne'er alter. How happy is the favoured yoiitfi, Whose ardent love's by thine repaid: He must not, cannot doubt thy truth, Nor cease to love till, lowly laid. Mrs. Harqlay then began as follows :— My only daughter Was married at tlie age of twenty to a young gentleman who, in early life, distinguished himself in the field of battle, by his courage and bravery. If they had not a sufficient fortune to keep them in af- fluence, they had enough to render them extremely comfortable and liappy; and at the fifth year of their marriage, Edmohd was four years of age and Emily two, which, of course, increased their felicity: they lived in this state of happiness for some years. My poor Emily never knew but the nara « of sorrow ; hut she was soon to taste its bitter draught, for alas! Pleasure is soon exchanged for pain, And brightest hopes take flight. . , f , .,.. SUSAN. It was in the autumn that CtsToiiel Williamis returned from one of his tours ; but the bloom of health had passed from his cheeks, and the paleness of death seemed settled over his manly coun- tenance; he had caught a severe cold, which in a short time ter- minated his mdHal career. I need not describe the grief of his devoted and affectionate wife ; she was never absent from him dur- ing his illness j . but I must not dwell on so painful a subject.— Suffice to Say, that in the space of seven months this cottage re- ceived my Vvidowed daughter, and two fatherless Children, as in-, mates. We tried every means in our power to dispel the gloom that still weighed down her spirits. We visited the continent, and every public place of amusement, but could by no means divert her attention. from the one objeet which occupied all her thoughts. It was her wish to return to this cottage, which we did. We plainly beheld the canker- worm of grief was. praying on her heart, and that ere long we should be left childless." Here Mrs. Harciay's tears run down her furrowed cheeks, and sobs for a few minutes choked her utterance j but she again pro- ceeded,— The grave soon closed upon the fair brow of my child i she Is now reposing by the side of her beloved husband. At the death of my daughter, Edmond was fourteen, and Emily twelve. It is " now six years since my only child died: it so preyed upon the mind of my poor husband, that in six months he rested by their side. Edmond having an uncle living in India, expressed a desire to live with liim-, he proceeded to him, where he has remained ever . since the decease qf, his mother. Emily continued with me, and 1 pray that I may live to see her as comfortably settled as she deserves to be, and then I care not how soOn I sink in the grave to repose near all that ih life was dear to me. Here ends my nar- rative, and I am greatly pleased that you seem so interested In the history of those who sincerely esteem you and your friend." I soon after left\ but frequently called to see them, and in this manner I passed two years— having heard several times from Edmond and Frederick. The news " came, at length, that the ship was bound for England much sooner than was expected, and ere long they would again visit their hap. vy home. The day arrived that was to bring them to us: Emily, if possible, looked more lovely than ever. We heard the carriage stop— she bounded out of the room, and was soon iu the arms of her brother. The meet- ing, of, the lovers ( fpr such they really were) was most respectful ; delight was plainI y visible on the countenance of both. The even- ing passed moat pleasantly j each relating their- adventures. Ed- mund's uncle died, and left liifci sole heir of his abundant riches. Frederick and Emily vyere walking round the garden one lovely evening, when the following conversation took place,:— " Dearest Emily," said he, " I have never known a moment's happiness since the first time I had the ' pleasure of seeing you;— but, in your company, I have, by every means in my power, tried to divert my melancholy thoughts ( fearing my love would be unre- turned,) from the object that I feel will only be erased from me- mory when this heart ceases to beat. Tell me, Emily, at once— do not trifle with my feelings— am I beloved by thee ? My life alone depends upon your answer; yet, I would not you should study that; consider your own happiness. Speak, as if it was your bro- ther asking you. Perhaps your heart is. another's. If so, tell me at once; then will I leave this country, and all my soul holds dear. I will seek the inmost recesses of the earth," and far from the eye of a human" being will I linger out my wretched existence. But say— tell me truly— have. you the least regard f « r one who would lay his life down to serve you?" The blushing Emily replied,— 441 will answer with candour— for why should I blush to own I love? From the first moment of our meeting, I felt a sincere re- gard for you;, whenever your name was spoken, I trembled ; in my dreams you were present, although in foreign lands j In my thoughts you were neVer absent; I could not account for these feelings— I had never experienced them before. I had heard of love, but never felt it; by the description I have since heard, I know it was love I felt— yes, true love." He clasped her to his bosom, and said,— 44 We will never part; nought but death will separate two hearts so firmly united. Thou shalt be mine— yes, mine forever." When he entered the house, he hastened to Mrs. Harciay, and said,— 44 Now have I come to claim the reward for the lost bracelet." " What is it?" a& ked Mrs. Harciay. " I Will have no other than this," said he, taking the trembling hand of the blushing Emily. She joined their hands, and ejaculated,— 4i May you be happy. Heaven bless you— for yau both have my blessing." It is useless to continue on this subject. Suffice to say, these lovers were united in a short time, to the ^ satisfaction of all j and may they prove that happiness that awaits only upon true and vir- tuous love. JEdmond soon after married Frederick's youngest sis- ter, a young lady of great Wealth and beauty. Frederick's father died; he has, therefore, come in possession of the splendid fortune and estates of the family. The noble aud generous Frederick, and the blooming-, lovely Emily, now bear the titles of Count and Countess de Vere. LEOPOLD! OR. THE SMUGGLER'S LIFE. BY G. W. DUGKJSTT. " Stand by— make her fast, or by Heaven we shall be lost!"— -- -— These words were uttered by Leopold Fitzangiltine, a smuggler, came, and we soon found ourselves at the cottage. After the lirsflB as his. gallant little bark neared that shore which afforded him such ~ iderick looked ' aeciiritv frt'm* contraband trade. * * We will cive a hrUf hla. * The horse- ferry near Milbank^ from which the Hor » e- ferrys Koad takes its name. ^ salutations were over, Mrs. Harciay noticed that Frederick lookeu extremely pale, and begged to know If anything particular had hap- pened. Emily looked quite concerned when he began telling them he had received a'letter, stating that his immediate attendance was required to join his ship. Mrs. Harciay asked for what length of time he expected to be absent from England. " Probably three years; but he was in hopes of being not more than two. We shall sail for India," he replied. . V For India!" repeated Emily. 44My dear Edmond is there;— how delighted he wouid be to sae one who is acquainted with his relatives." 44 Edmond ifi India," rejoined Frederick; 4( surely it cannot be my friend." 44 His name ?" said Emily. 44 Edmond Williams ; he was my school- fellow, and the most in- timate friend I had; but 3ix years since he left, I believe, for India, and I have not since heard of him. Then, are you his sister, that he used so often speak of ?" 14 I am his sister," replied Emily; " and is it possible that, you are Frederick, that he so frequently talked of?" 411 am, indeed, Frederick, and his most sincere friend." Mrs. Harciay turned towards Emily, and said,— 44 Had you any idea that this young gentleman was acquainted with Edmond?" 14 Dear grandmamma,' she replied,, 4, it would have been with pleasure, had I have known it, that I would have told you— for al- though Edmond often spoke of his friend, yet he never mentioned his name."' At this discovery there was a mutual salutation. He had now visited them as much as h? could ; and the more he saw of Emily the more h « was enamoured. I went vvith him to bid them adieu. Before he went he gathered a few flowers i I belie e they were the 4 ito3e,' the • Heart's ease,' and ths 4 Forget me Not,' tied wilh a bit of true blue, which he meant to present to Emily. They had expected us, aud had waited tea. It being a beautiful evening, we all took a walk round the garden. When we came in-. doOrs again, I saw the iiosegay was in Emily's possession. She saw me look at it, and blushed aeeply.— At length, the hour ot departure arrived. Mrs. . Harciay said she shonld be most happy to hear of his safe arrival in India, and like- wise that Edmond and him would be as good friends as ever. He ^ promised to write as soon as possible: It was with great reluctance he parted with them. I saw him press Emily's hand to his heart, while a tear trembled in her eye. X cannot describe the anguish his eye; hfe madeto itr- he resoldt- Jv grasped it— It was the lady. He then looked around, and could ste no other beings th<* n, with a desperate effort, he struck out for the shor-. vand gained it, with his precious prize, in safety; and while pauslr/ g chance came by: Paul Sagrolt, his chief confidant- '- bot » \ lptfked at each other, when Leopold skid,— . 44 This damsel I have saved from the pitiless storpi> P bear her quietly to old Dorcas and Heieii." With all my heart," replied Paul. Then gently raising her up, they bore- her swiftly to their cot- tage, and knock ing, r the door was opened by Helen, who started.— 44 Here," exclaimed Paul, 41 is a charge for you to take c& re of— set* ye'to? her; Ha! she is e'en recovering now/' With thkt the fair stranger was taken to a chamber, and every attention that humai^ ty could dictate, was directed to her: in a very short period of time & he recovered, and inquiring where she was, Helen related to her the whole proceeding. A blush like the morning lint of the rising suh ; on the azure sky, mantled into her ( till now) pale cheek., when she reflected ii6w that the noble- hearted smuggler had res- cued her. from a watery grave. At txtfs period the . door was gently opened, and Dorcas conducted the stranggr to a neatly fitted up apartment, Hvhere a refreshing repast had bee^ prepared for her. Captain Leopold was seated at the window; but perceiving her entering, rhe gallantly and respectfully bowed, at the same time en- quiring as to her welfare. They replied in accents so gentle and unaffected, that Leopold, from that moment, felt a rising fegarcuor one so pleasing and affable. After the meal, the stranger arose* « nd heartily thanking them for their kindness, b » Cde them adieu. Yes, and mark it, ye reader [ at the same time invited the captain to her father's mansion, saying how grateful they wo" jtld be to hear of her escape, and how much she owed to Captain Leopold for risking his life to save that of her's. She departed, * * * The captain visited the house of Alicc de Ros^ llnde— for such was the amiable stranger's name; he was received'most joyfully- He became a constant visitor— yet never discovered himself; and oft when the sweet orb of the night was shining forth in ail her lustre, would be seen Captain Leopold, iu company with Aiice, talking together, and making vows of fidelity towards each otherc- Time rolled ou, and HO did all tiie incidents attendant upon a smuggler's life. He at last declared himself to her father, and sued for that union which would seal their constancy; but, alas! the Marquis de, Ilosalinde would not give his consent, because Captain Leopold was a smuggler. .* * * Months flew onward and the above thoughts made Leopold unhappy: h'a had money- plenty of money; but his profession was a bar to all his happiness ( as respected Alice), yet Ills heart could not leave it. He returned to his comrades, and went to his duty with apparent cheerfulness; but they couid see he was altered. One week they had a most ex- cellent harvest, and. after it was over, they, were carousing in their cave, when, exclaimed Paul,— 44 Captain! 1 have, by a secret frierid, heard that the revenue of- ficers have discovered our retreat." 44 j^ ever," replied Leopold, " It is too true;" answered Paul, " and they are expected to be down upon U> v* ry shortly," This intelligetie** set evei7 man on fche alert; all were now schem- ing which was the~ b « » : > vay to avoid detection, when the alienee was broke, by Captain LeojCld exclaiming,— 44 Comrades, we must instfir^, v remove al. l, f, ur 8Plrits and Port" able goods on board ; as to the Wo* Ten » leave money enough to maintain them, if we don't return. ? 9 » are ail WXug to defend each other to the last drop of biv. 0" • 44 We are— we are," vociferated all. 46 Then to our removal," returned Leopold. .. Presently, every man was at his post- in less than lialt ar\ nour the 4 Kitty' was under sail— a short time longer and th* ' ana was far distant to the north, and night already closed in. Thfc vessel was going steadily on her course, when the watch upon dec^ ex~ claimed, about midnight,- 44 A sail close down upon us ; asaO, Sail!" ... ,, . • - : * In an instant every man was upon deck, but too late— the watch, did not discover the stranger soon enough to give a timely. ward- ing, he l) eing asleep. 44 Curses light upon thy head,'* said Captain Leopold, addressing him: 44 we shall be taken !'' The strange sail proved to be a revenue vessel. She il ailed the smuggler— no reply— hail again— still no answer.-— The nix'. t mo- ment and she was close alongside. They boarded the smug^' erf and the conflict was dreadful; but the officers were victorious-— they took ail the smugglers prisoners, and confined them below. Here they ruminated o'er their misfortunes, aud at last adopted the motto of44 Sauve quipeut"— as opportunities offered, one by one escaped, Captain Leopold alone remaining. When they weie all gone he watched his moment, and springing through an aper- ture, fell in the sea, for I must teil the reader that while in their captivity they contrived in the night to cut a hole in the vessel's side with their clasp knives, large enough to admit of a man's body passing through; in this manner they all escaped, and went no o: ie knows whither, except Leopold, who made for the shore. He reached it undiscovered, and returning thanks for his escape from the waves, sought out his old haunt and retreat— but his cottage had been destroyed in a storm. He cared nought for that, because now lie was comparatively wealthy- He then resolved from that moment to giVe up the contraband trade of smuggling. The thoughts that next arose in his breast were about his Alice.— Again he visited her, and again she implored htm to address her noble father on that subject which concerned then; both. He did so, and at first the old man would not believe him; but again protest- ing it was so, he consented to their union. Joy now filled the breasts of the faithful pair, all was: mirth and conviviality at the castle ofthe Marquis de Rosalinde; the nuptial day was fixed, and all seemed happiness. But there were several estates in the country that Alice de Kosallnde was entitled to, and it was necessary that these should be claimed by her, in person, directly; therefore, she was compelled, although very reluctantly, to go into the country for a day or so. It was also agreed that Leopold should accompany her— the day arrived, and they set off on their journey. They alighted at the town of Ca3ton, and having succeeded beyond their most sanguine hopes in the execution of their affairs, they put up at an inn for the night. Now for the reader's instruction I must introduce a new pariy to the tale. The Earl of S had a great regard for Alice, but, alas! this regard was only that she should become his mistresu Long had he sought to win her affections, and long had she spurned hira— even her father had sternly denied him. He ( the earl) had got scent of their journeying to the country, and also gained, by private information, that Leopold was to be the accepted husband of Alice de Rosalinde. Jealousy fired his spirit, and being a cruel and desperate man, he made the horrid resolution of murdering Leopold, by stealth, in the night, at the inn. The time arrived to put his plan into execution— Leopold was reposing in a handsome chamber, when, on a sudden, the door warf gently opened, and the earl entered with a dark lantern and a mask. He advanced to the side of the bed— the upraised arm was already in the act of descending, when lo! Hector, Leopold's faith- ful dog, fiew from under the bed, where he had been watching, for Leopold always had his canine friend with him, and dashing at the breast of the earl, both fell backwards together. Leopold started from his couch, seized the earl, and called for assistance; the dif - ferent inmates instantly rushed to his aid, the guilty earl was ar rested, brought to London, tried, and was condemned. ( Here I must omit the sentence.) All barriers being now removed, they returned to the castle. Leopold thought it now high time to acquaint his long lost parents, arid friends where he was— he sought them, in a little time he YVUK restored to them, and a happy reconciliation took place. He alsr found out Dorcas and Helen, but his old companions were 44 gon. — but whither? teli me where?"— Again the bridal aay Was fixe , The morning sun of the — of May, lti79, beheld Leopold Fitzansii. tine and Alice de Rosalinda happily united in the boxids of holy matrimony. Soon after this they settled for life at a splendid mansion by the sea- side— they took old Dorcas and Helen to live with theai— they all attained a good old age, and lived 44 the happiest of the happy." Mile- end, April, 1841, security in fiis give brief his- tory of that man, whose daring courage had: aised him to the highest estimation among his comrades. Leopold was the son of wealthy parents; but, associating with gamblers, and s » ch like, was on^ evening totally ruined at one of those dens of " ice ( the gaming house); remorse struck fuli into his horror- stricken con- science ( for he, in one single event, had spent twelve thousand sovereigns, the sum he was to enter life with.) He dare not return to the mansion ot his forefathers, for that would not only bring disgi- ace upon his family, but also be his sentence of banishment from those walls, that at one time would have re- echoed with joy at his return. He wandered he knew not whither, when on a sud- den, as he strayed from the home of his birth, he. fell in with a party of smugglers. . The thought struck him that he would join them— he Volunteered, and was accepted * * * and thus it brings us to the commencement of our tale. 44 Now, Andrew," shouted Leopold, bear a hand with those casks; see that every man has his one; prepare yourselves, in case of an attack, and bring them to our rendezvous," 44 It shall be done, sir," replied the man. Few minutes had elapsed before all were bearing the produce of their labor to that place that Leopold described as their rendezvous. In the course of an hour every thing, was stowed away in a strong cellar underneath a snug cottage, on the side of a rock. 44 Now, messmates, aftt- r the tolls of the day, let the can flow freely; we have plenty, you .' know, at our command— so drink boys, and first, 1 say— Three cheers for our gallant 4 Kitty,* the lugger. This toast was responded to most cordially all around * * * Thus the smugglers spent their time in carousing, till the night had far ad- vanced, ere they thought of retiring. A week after these events, Captain Leopold, as they stiled him was walking on the beach by himself, ( tor it blew a tempestuous gale, yet tha sky was clear) lie descried a small boat at a distance, Making for the land, but in vain, with a sail full set. 41 Hal" ex- claimed Leopold, '^ foolish are they that are' in her. See," said he to himself, 4* see I— Ha I gracious heaven, she'll founder; but stili sh'e nears me. Who can h b « ?— Ha! I• see a lady in it, too.— There 1 by St. George she's over— merciful gpodnwss protect them. I go," said he, rushing down, to the beach, ( tor the stragglers werr not fifty yards from it,) and go,' and Heaven speed m « safely to them." Then tearing otf . bis sea coat, he plunged into the dash- ing waters. One moment, arid he was elevated;; the next, he wa* buried deep in the wavea— yet, still, he weathered the storm, and, at length, leached them. An object at no great distance caught COMICALITIES. Said the younger barrister to his lather, " I am very uneasy ; t dreamt last night that I was tormented with the rEDicuij, or the vulgar call it LICE." 44 The thing is natural enough,' rejolnc- l the facetious Charles, " that you should dream at ni| ht of wh;- was running on your head all day," When Edwin and Waldron were travelling to Manchester, the early part of thejr lives, in a return post- chaise, on a r<- flanked on each side with a deep ditch, the carriage, by the in .-• • tention of the driver, was overset, and the comedians tumbled <. upon each other. Waldron vvas undermost, aud Edwin, in sera a bling through the chaise door, made a 4oot- stool of Waldn ; • teg, which pained him so much that could not refrain from roaring out, 44 Damn it, Edwin, remove your foot, or you will break my leg." 441 can't," " joined Edwin; 44for If I do I shall break the glass." A Somersetshire colloquy, between an old woman and a boy who had been beating her goslings, in revenge for being bit l » y the gander:—" Cursed tuoad," said the old woman, 44 what does beat gosling chick vor ?" " Then why did gosling chicks father beac I?" replied the boy. At a butcher's, in Monmouth Street, a man asked the price of a leg of mutton, 44Two- and- threepence," said the butcher. < 4Two- and- threepenee, you varlet," replied the other $ 44 why, I can buy a new one for that." A certain gentleman, eminent for his wit, being hard pressed by one of his impatient creditors to pay the principal and interesc of a debt long incurred, made the following facetious reply:— 44 Dear sir,— In answer to your obliging favour, 1 must take the liberty to inform you that at present it is not my interest to pay the prin- cipal, neither is it my principal to pay the interest," A person who kept a jackdaw, used frequently put his finger into the cage to him ; the daw bit it, and the man said, 44 D n it, how you pineh." The jackdaw being out of the cage, a kite took him up, and flew off with him, while the daw kept crying, 44D— u it, how you pinch." Foote and Garrick were in a fruit shop in Covent Garden, when the latter received a bad shilling in exchange. 44 This shilling is not worth a farthing," exclaimed the Roscius, In a rage. 44 There, take it fellow, and throw it to the devil." 44 Throw it yourself, Davy," added Foote, 41 as nobody can muke a shilling go farther than yourself." A witty son of the Emerald Isle, the other day, made the follow- ing reply to an Englishman and Irishman, respecting the noble and illustrious Duke of Wellington'— 44 By the powera above, if you don't liould your tongues, I'll run away with a PAYR of you BOTH, and by Jasus I'll take and bury you at the root of the church." THE LAST LOT.— One day at an auction at Naburn Mill, near York, on the last lot being put up, which happeued to be a writ - ing desk, when it had reached ten shillings, the presiding knight of the hammer, with the usual flourishes, proclaimed, * 4 going— going." At ttfis moment the floor gave way, and the whole com- pany were summarily knocked down into the cellar. The confu- sion and alarm was great, but, fortunately, none of the parties sus- tained any injury. 4- Why don't you wheel that barrel of coals, Ned?" quotha learned vendor of black diamonds, to his maei. 4' it is not a very hard job— there is an inclined plaue to relieve you." 44 Aye, mas- ter," replied Ned, who had more relish for wit than work, * 4 the plane may be inclined,. mayhap,- but hang me if I am," A parish, clerk, not one hundred miles from Ludford, lately gave notice, That no one should be burled in the churchyard, except those who were LIVING in the parish," » THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE.' m dFragmtnta for tje Curtoue. F TBE REASON.— A tradesman finding his circumstances Irretrievably involved, put a period to his existence in the Canal in Hyde- park. Two neighbours talking on the subject, one of them asked, how he came to drown himself. The other answered, " Because he could not Jteop his head above water." FAMILY PRIDE.— In Georgia people of quality ex- ercise the office of executioner; and it is so far from be- ing accounted infamous, that it reflects honour upon a whole family,— A Georgian will boast what a number of hangmen be has had amongst his ancestors. GALLERY CRITICISM.— As Mrs, Porter was perform- ing that part of the character of Lady Nottingham, in the tragedy of the Earl of Essex, where she excuses her- self from having any concern in procuring the earl's « xecution, a sailor in the gallery cried out. " You lie, you •, you know you have the ring in your jocket." J IMPROMPTU, Bit riKOiNo A nova in MY CBAMSBH, Ah! gentle bird, how came you here ? A fugitive thou dost appear j— Or Say, were you by storm unkind, Driven a shelter here to find } Perehanee thou'st just escaped the lot Of falling by the sportsman's shot? < Poor bird I divest thyself of fear. No cruel sportsman waits thee here. Fear not, sweet dove, then shot or knife, I will preserve thy harmless 115a j Ho evil dread, no ilia await Thee, while I ' tend upon thy fate. Dear little trembling, fluttering thing, Some cruet band hath dipt your KING; Yoa need not fear such harm from me— Dove me, and have your liberty. Your tender wings I'll never clip, But bring you water fresh to sip ; And peas and tares that's clean and sweet, And everything that doves can eat. Then pretty dove, " Come dwell with mo," A mistress kind indeed I'll be i Your ev'ry want myself wilt tend, And be your fond, your guardian friend. ANNA, MINSTREL OF T\\ S NAAT1I r Mr. Murphy once cut off a fellow's head that' waited to hear what lie would say he ",' i --- — •-, . /•.•— i-. j u... awaked and missed it. " Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice." SHAKSPERB. But his sun was set,' bis wickedness was at an end, for I grand. children kissing you and coaxing yott, and she Henry as ( loon'us hejarrived at the castle related what making their little bibs, and washing their little fie*, and had happened. A party of soldiers accordingly being having all tidy and nice by the time her husband came hastily assembled, pursued the Engllsh- the latter find- I home. Many a man well off in the world, would be glad .. uy asleep, and then Charles Fox once told aninsolen; fei"" "-, ' If yon do," said the other, " 1> U -, ow he would klck hlin 10 1, eI1' j—.— t. , tell your father how you are squau- . oited an Irishman at Munich if he would jWnl " Aye, for hatfa- irmn either," said derlng his money. General Fawcct once fight for a sovereign ere Paddy. An impertin'- .. „ bim, in the • fell » w, who was a strannerto Lord Guildford, asked fore hill)' pit of the Opera, who that plain lady was immediately be- hats'- -.'—" That lady," said the noble lord, is my wife; it is true -' C is a plain woman ; I am a plain man; you, I perceive, are a ^ r jin deafer, and that is the plain truth." THE FELON J on, THE NECESSITY OF UNIVERSAL EDUCATION. BY ItOSEM R05JJ, THE BARD OF COLOUR, AND LAUREATE THE WESTERN ISI. ES. The judge has left the court to dine, The lawyers go to quaff their wine; The crowds haste carelessly away, Alasl such scenes they see each day; And not a man shows sign of Borrow iiijii.",. That a felon must depart to- morrow. But there is one poor pining creature, " With grief spread over every feature. Who stands in tribulation there, %> mmC The gliaatly image of despair j It Is,— oh, it can bo no other, Than the doom'd felon'a mournful mother. And there's another by her aide,— The maid who was to have been his bride ; Alas! how changed for this sad scene, Their moonlight walks o'er meadows green. Oh, heavyday! they blend alone Their tears, when the cold crowds are gone. Would not such woful scones ba spared, If alt In education shared ? Pare as tfte light ooraes heaven. free, Strong f^' s the mighty rolling sen, Let Knowledge speed, with giant- tread, And bruise of Crime the serpent- head, While all the nations shall rejoice. To hear fair Truth's inspiring voice 1 Laughing to scorn mean- born control. May knowledge spread from pole to pole! Till ,11 men shall united be In friendship, truth and charity! A young farmer was invited to dine for the first time with his land- lord, who was a very hospitable man. Wllen he entered the drawing- jrooin, a wag told bim. that if he did not eat what his landlord gave bim, he mint immediately fight him, Tha clolli was laid, and the parties began; the host, being polite, was very attentive to their ^ coarse guest, and filled his plate repeatedly, all which the farmer de- voured with some labour. Al last the inviter was in ihe act of putting a large slice of pudding upon the farmer's plate, when he started from his seat, threw down Iiis knife and fork, and began to strip in buff, and put himself in an attitude of dcfence, vociferously roaring,— I' Dom un, come on, for I'll sooner fight till I die than eat till I die." VIDE MORTEM. Approach, for ' tis wise for man to see, How cat ™ the death of the good doth be; How gently the soul doth wing its flight, To the regions of love. and bliss, and light; How peacefully they do take their leave. Of the fiiends, who, for them, must ever grieve, And who, yet ' mid their grief, have the joy to know, That the soul to Heaven will surely go. How dreadful the death of the wi'ckad man, Who has lived in vice all his earthly span ; And who, now the time hath come, that he, To a world ot bliss, or of woe, must flee With depair, or cursing, doth yield hia breath, And all his sins to the tyrant death, To await the decree of the Judge on high, How terrible then Is Eternity. YV. N. A singular circumstance took place at Tralee, an excise town in Ireland. The judge was passing sentencejn tho usual form on one Macarthy, a noted sheep- itealer,— « You are to be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and the Lord have mercy on your soul." The culprit immediately rejoined,—" Oh, my lord, you may save jourself any further trouble, for t> y J 1 never knew anyone to thrive after your prayers." It Is remarkable, that all the kings of England who bave espoused princesses of France, have been bated by their subjects, and come to an unfortunate end. For example :_ lidward 11. murdered in pri- son ; Ri^ iard II. murdered in prison; Henry VI. murdered in prison ; f Charles I. publicly executed on a scaffold. _ ' TO MARY. Thine eyas are like those shining orbs, That gild th' ethereal sky j That glttter In th' expansive arch, Aa on they roll on blgh. Dike stars I dear one,— I wrong thee much,—. Stars never shone so bright: Compar'd with thine, the brightest ray The sun e'er shed was night. The rose's bloom Is on thy cheek; But, ah 1 the flow'ry queen May hide her head, for oa her leaves Such hues were never seen. Thy lovely lips, tha coral tries Their colour to obtain ; Fruitless its efforts, for, alas 1 It tries, but ' tis in vain. Tby glossy ringlets— I must atop, A almlle I want; Medusa's turned who look'd to stone j— But thine melts adamant. Oulton, April, 1841. j, g, N. " I am a miserable fellow," laid a hosier to a hatter; " my wife keeps ber bed." " 1 am infinitely more unhappy than you," said tlio tiatter to the hosier, « for my wife lias sold it." When Lord Chesterfield was dying, Sir Thomas Robinson paid him a visit of condolence, and said, rather bluntly, " I am sorry my lord « o perceive that you are dying by inches." " Oh, don't be sorrv about the matter," replied Ibe peer; " but, tbaijk God, 1 am not so tall as you by a foot." THE NOSEGAY. Let me cull a gay posy of flowers, Which are cultur'd by Nature alone, ' Mong the foliage- clad mount, meads, and vales, Where fleet fancy's so eager to roam. By the silvery- fretted rills lav'd, The wild primrose, springs harbinger, flowcis • Its sweet scent is infused in the streams, And its tints adorn satyr's wild bowers. From tbe trefoiled- meads margin so white, Pluck the May flower, eglantine rose, And the lily, who fragrance exhales, While they, cowslips and daisies enclose. For the violet, t'll go to the vale, In the uplands the blue- bel's are found, Waving incense amid the hard brake, Which so rudely entwines it around. Ofthe woodbine with nectarine flow'rs, To render my cottage more gay, Fancy seizes a spire in her flight, As now homeward she wings it away, K. L. M Two me* Eying In a brewhouse in Oxfordshire, together, the one the fireman, the other tbe brewer; they two exchanged horses to « the ,1irerrt Wls broken- winded, and theTeman'? foun J"?.?' Says the brewer to him, " When thou makest thy fires, thou ™ 3°' haV? an?, idl ™ » brotm- mnded horlwil lafZrd you u< M emu, h. Ihen the fireman laid him, " Do not buy anv hops to put in your beer, for my foundered jadi says he wilt afforf you hors enough every day when you use bim " d We are happy to state that after the more exciting performances at the late elections, which entirely ab- sorbed the attention of the public, theatricals are look- ing up ; yet we have very few novelties to notice since our last; our theatrical critique is, therefore, necessa- rily brief. HAYMARKET.— Webster, considering the number of fashionables that are out of town, at this, the end of the season, as it is called, has had no cause to complain of the apathy of the public. The performances have been of varied and sterling merit. ENGLISH OPERA— Moderate success crowns the efforts ofthe company performing at this unfortunate theatre; yet is it deserving of extensive patronage, from the able manner in which everything is conducted. A new bur- letta, called Barnaby Radge, and founded upon tbe tale of the same title, by Buz., has been received with considerable applause. SADLER'S WELLS.— Mr. Honner keeps up a constant succession of novelties at this theatre, and is rewarded by capital houses. Another new drama, called Tempta- tion, and a new farce, called The Racket Court; or, Lodgings for a Single Man, iij which Mr. John Her- bert, and Mr. J. S. Balls, appear to great advantage, have been brought forward with success. PAVILION.— Mr. Prest's celebrated romance of The Death Grasp; or, a Father's Curse, has furnished the subject for another new drama at this theatre, and highly successful it has proved. It would be superflu- ous to say one word of the plot, as the adapter has strictly adhered to tbe early part of fne story, as it appeared iu the columns of this journal. It is exceedingly well got up, and the whole of the performers sustain the parts allotted to them in a manner highly creditable to them- selves and the management. The romance of The Death G-; asp was commenced in No. 54 of this paper, and w;-, ii shortly be re- i'ssued in weekly numbers. VICTORIA.— We have nothing new to notice at this theatre, with tbe exception of the engagement of Mr. Brougham, the clever delineator of Irish characters. Susan Hopley aud the public continue on the best of terms. SURREY.— The operatic company continues to at- tract full houses, and everything goes off with great eclat. ALHERT SALOON.— This place is crowded to suffoca- tion every evening, and the amusements in tbe saloon and in the pleasure- grounds continues to be of the same excellent description which has ever characterised this establishment. ing themselves hotly pressed, sent me forward with an !° 5 p ,, escort, and awaited the arrival of my friends to give CATTY to got a wife of this sort, without the cows or the feather battle. In about two hours time we were overtaken CATTY.— Sare enough: but, still I've a hankering after cuMivcii | ^ he boys by an English soldier, who related the news of their The ory next day I was informed that Catty " as own defeat, of the death of three of then1 pafty, one of brought to' bed of a chopping boy, according to her « an- whom was Roderick, who was shot in the act of destroy- gU; ne expectations ; but also, alas! of » puny, girl, con- ing his brother, when a soldier of my father's, seeing trary to her wishes; and that tbe twins and their mother Henry's danger, sprung to his relief, and killed Rode- lay in considerable danger, without tbe intended fillings, rick. The soldier also stated that the rest of their or any of the oommon decencies or comforts which such party were taken prisoners, that two Scots were slain, occasions demand; and all this from bad management, and that they were in hot pursuit after UJ. But, how- undue procrastination, and an unreasonable and indolent ever, unfortuilately for me, they did not overtake us. dependent* on Providence ; contenting itself With « T « 6; It would be tedious to narrate evety little liieident " Gad is good," without seeking for the > th£ JMssrjws tfasssswa ass* imprisonment. Alas I how in one day were my fondest e , r ' - - . | LLOYD'S LIST OF POPULAR WORKS' In Weekly Numbers at Id., and Monthly Parts at 4d, the Nei » and Highly Interesting Romance of KATHLEEN I OR, THE SECRET MARRIAGE. *.* The First Number, containing Eight closely- printed Pages, Two Splendid Engratinga on aeparate paper, and a most Magnifi- cent Wrapper, preaented GRATIS with No. J4 of " THE PENNY SWNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POIICE GAZETTE." Now Publishing in Weekly Numbers at Id. Parts at 4d., and Monthly 3 hopes defeated. I pictured to myself the sorrow of my Emily, the monotony of my prison, the grief of my father, & c ; but, alas 1 I found that repining was of no use, and after three years confinement in a dungeon, I was set at liberty by an exchange of prisoners. After SLEEP.— Nothing has such a teadanef to restore tli « ITitsat as sound and refreshing aleep; by a well- known poet it Is df acrlbed as " Nature's sweet restorer," yet there are thoasands who pass weary and steeples nights without taking the trouble to ascertain the cause,— many resort to opiates, and thus aggra. « 4. various adventures but too common at that time, I » uc- vate the evil. PARR'S LIFE PILLS will be found to soothe enrdnd In r « .. irhinir tho matte nnd domain of mv urnrr. the Irritated state of the nerves, and loon to bring the whole lyi- ceedea in reacmng ttte castle ana domain ol my proge- Um 1Mo ^ cool > nd h„ lthy , ute a, wlu lndnce ,0Und and re- nitors. freshing sleep, and thus fit the mind and body for tha varied Thus, reader, I have given you the account of my dntles of nfe, which henceforward will be performed with ease and adventures before 1 returned home,— But to continue. I satisfaction. On reaching tha castle, I was met by my beloved cousin Henry— tbe salutations being over, I went into the castle, and was apprised that my father and uncle were deceased, and that myself and Henry were the chiefs of not Only the estates, but of a body of men fighting under the banners of the patriotic Bruce. At evening, after we had finished our repast, we amused ourselves by relatingour respective adventures. Tho beautiful Emily is still my own, and ere another month has gone by, she will be wedded to her once exiled lover. Henry and Elizabeth are married, and are blessed with two children. Thus ends my tale of | Roderick the Revengeful. I « C. S. EMILY FITZORMOND I OR, THE DESERTED ONE. With No. 1, Is presented GRATIS, Two Magnificent Plate* and a Wrapper. Now Publishing, la Numbers at One Penny, » nd Four- penny Monthly Parts, ERNNESTINE DE LACYJ OR, THE ROBBER'S F OUNDLINC. With N « r. 1, h presented GRATIS, Two Splendid Engravings on aeparate paper, and a Wrapper. Complete In 104 Nnmbttl at 0 « ~ Penny each, or Elegantly Bound at Nine Shillings and Sixpence, ELA, THE OUTCAST! OR, THE CIPSY GIRL OF ' ROSEMARY DELL- A TALK OP THE MOST THRILLING II- TBBEBT. In Numbers at One Penny eaeh, or Fourpenny Monthly T « rt » » Stitched in a neat Wrapper, THE HEBREW MAIDEN I OR, THE LOST DIAMOND* A ROMANCE OP * HE IATS OP CHIVAJ. RY. RODERICK THE REVENCEFUU ' Twas on the bordeis ofa lonely forest, at the first dawn of day, my eye caught sight of the well known castle of my ancestors. The feelings which were ex- cited in my mind on beholding it are indescribable ; pleasure and pain seemed alternately to take possession of my bosom. On drawing near to it, I found that five years absence had made many alterations in the capa- cious grounds around it; when I left all was wild and uncultivated, the terrors of the war had driven the peaceful peasantry from their agricultural labour, and compelled them either basely to surrender their lives and liberty, or to enlist under the banners of Ihe patri- otic Bruce. But now I find that tbe courage of their noble leader liaB delivered them from the tyrannical hands of King Edward, of England, and the glorious battle of Bannockburn has restored them to their quiet employment, which sufficiently explains the cause of. the alteration in the castle, Ac. But to proceed. Perhaps when I mentioned that five years had elapsed since I hod visited the seat of my family, I may have excited a curiosity amongst my readers to know the cauBO of my absence ; therefore, as my tale is short and simple, I will endeavour to narrate it. My father, and indeed all my ancestors, were ofthe first nobility of Scotland. I was born during the strug- gles between Balcol and his competitors for the crown. There was living with my father an only brother of his, who, before the troubles commenced, had lived in a distant part of the countiy, but his wife dying, he removed to the habitation of my father, and brought wilh him his three children. Roderick, a cunning, passionate boy— Henry, altogether the contrary of his brother— and Emily, a beautiful girl, of quiet and amiable qualities. But to continue— mastered under the same roof it was but natural that we should form an attachment for each other in process of years ; before I was aware, I found myself seriously attached to my fair cousin, nnd I believe also Henry formed an intimacy with my only sister, Elizabeth. This gave offence to Roderick, and he accordingly endeavoured by all manner of means to calumniate and misrepresent Henry and myself to our parents. Alas! his efforts were but too successful. One morning as we were strolling through the forest, we were suddenly surprised by a party ofthe enemy, who, when they perceived us to be Scots, immediately prepared to capture us. Seeing everything was at stake, we immediately beat a retreat, and through our knowledge of tbe wood, managed with great difficulty to escape from our pursuers. We re- turned to the castle and partook of some refreshment — Roderick, pretending that he was taken ill, withdrew himself, and guess my sunrise, when I was made cer- tain of the true cause of his absence, when he returned with our fathers and some servants, and stretching forth his hand, exclaimed, " These are the traitors who ran away and left me a prisoner in the hands of the Eng- lish, when, if they had stood their ground, and fought bravely, we should have had the enemy captives in our own power." My father, who is easily prejudiced, ordered Henry and myself to be confined in the deep dungeon usually- employed to contain English prisoners, and which was tbe more uncomfortable oil that account. We were soon conveyed there, and locked in, and had plenty of leisure to ruminate on our misfortunes. It would appear that Roderick, jealous of the affection between Henry and Elizabeth, and not altogether relishing the thoughts of my being his sister's husband, had thuB artfully fabricated a tale totally unfounded, for he was the first that ran from the foe, in order that he might satiate his revenge. How long we should have remained in this dungeon, or wha. t would have been our fate in the end, I do not know ; Tiut, as it was, Rode- rick, as he was the means of our imprisonment, so also was he the cause of our enlargement. Roderick had fell in love with my sister, aiid ehe re- fusing to acknowledge his suit, put him into such a wicked frame of mind, that, reckless of the conse- quences, he in vain solicited Elizabeth to satisfy his impure desires; resisting his wicked designs, he en- deavoured forcibly to do that which he intended, since ho could not by fair means. Her cries brought some servants to the spot, atid being certain ofhis wicked though unsuccessful attempt, accused him before his father; and he, convinced of his inability to escape undetected and free from all suspicion, confessed his guilt, and gloried in it. He also acknowledged his being the author of our imprisonment, and thus obtained our release. My father and uncle consulted concern- ing the best means of punishing him, and at last came to tho conclusion that, after giving him a severe admo- nition, they should put him in some situation as an officer to protect the borders against the inroads of the English, which 4hey thought would suit his bold spirit. Accordingly, after giving their advice and warning, they fixed the day for his departure to the borders on that day week. But Roderick, maddened with the determination of his fcther and ancle, resolved to be revenged on me and his brother, considering us as the cause of bit in- tended departure. He concealed his resentment, and one day when we were walking quietly along tho bor- ders ofthe wood, what was our consternation on being surrounded by a party of the enemy. Henry, who was at some distance, perceiving resistance was vain, im- mediately fled, and, as I afterwards learned, succeeded in making his escape. Roderick, seizing hold of me, held me fast, and I was a prisoner. It appears that Roderick had revolted from the Scotch, joined the English, and sonnived at and accomplished my ruin. ON THE DUTY OF SELF- EXERTION. I bad lately occasion to enter the house, or rather cabin, of an extremely indolent poor woman, whose character- istic habits 1 shall endeavour to illustrate by the couversa tion which took place between us. Mr. DOYLE.— I am sorry to see your house so dirty, Catty ; how dbes this happen f CATty.— Why then, Mr. Doyle— will yott be sited, sir ? ( wiping a dirty chair with her dirty apron, and offering it to in « ,) ' twas the fault of that unluckv pig beyant there, that wouldn't be satisfied lo ate his dinner in the bawn, but must insist on coming into the dure— bad manners to him— and I can't keep it clano with him. But, indeed, the bonneen wouldn't thrive outside in the cold, any how. . Mr. D.— But, Catty, if you had accustomed him to feed in the- little pig- yard, his own proper place, this familiarity on his part, would have been prevented : it is your own slovenly habit and disposition that causes all this irregu- larity J besides, instead of cleaning your floor after the in- trusion of your unse& mly gilest, i find you squatting, at your ease, over the remains of a fire, with a pipe in your mouth, which you endeavoured to hide from me by pop- ping it, lighted as it was, into your pocket. CATTY.—( Smiling, yet blushing at being caught In the unfeminine employment of smoking.) Indeed, sir, the truth is the best; I was smoking a little to ease my heart of the water - flash that bothers it, and the pipe is a great comfort to a poor body in hardship, and 1 was thinking all tbe time that the pipe was betune my teeth, and the pig forenent me, ataing the lock of skins, that he'd soon be sfther putting clothes on myself and the childer, let alone the one that's coming, and wasn't that a comfort to me? Mr. D.— Now, Catty, answer me these questions. Why hare you so long put oil the preparation for your confinement 1 CATTY,— Why, then, 1 was thinking there was time enough yet: God is good, and won't take a poor body short. And, besides, I'm no great hand at the needle, if I had the makings itself. Mr. D.— God is good, assuredly, and we should all trust in his goodness ; but such trust as yon have— that your lying- in will not occur until it is your own conve nience to be prepared for i', is a false dependence, and an insult to that goodness wbich you profess to respect; and your indolence is inexcusable in expecting that assistance will come to you unsought and undeserved. You must exert yourself as far as you can, to meet and provide for your wants and exigencies of all kinds, and then you may safely trust to God for the rest. CATTY.— That's very true for you, sir. But, supposing I had tbe fittings itself, how would I make them up ? Mr. D.— It's a great shame, Catty, that you are ignorant ANSWERS TO CHARADES. ANSWER 10 B. M.' S MATHEMATICAL RIDDLE IN NO Sir, though with mathematics I've little to do. Yet your riddle I understand I'll quickly show) A segment of a circle I find Is a D, A tine stood upright, letter I la clear to me. Your next Is two L'a— a circle makes an O, Three lines will form an N, which spells Dillon, I know. A name thBt'a endeared to the readers of this TIMES, For amusement he has sent us In prose and In rhymes. I'm sure all thank htm for his many favours past, And trust that soon to please us his pen will move aa fast. ELIZABETH BBBKINOER, ANSWER TO JANE CUILUM'S ENIGMAS IN NO. 63. Oh ! lovely Jane, let me aspire To claim thee aa my lawful wife, No other bliss do I dvslre To aoothe the rugged paths of life. My charming maid thy verses show A pure and intellectual mtndj From which subllmest comforts flow, Joys both social and refined. Then, dearest Jane, don't live alone, But share a wedded life with me; We'll dwell and love in Brightelmstone, Exempt from care aud Poverty. Tavll. H. COLLINS. ANSWER TO THE THIRD ENIGMA iU NO. 63, Mr 3. GOSLIN. A car your first appears to me, Your next must notion surely bej United these carnation make, A eoleur if I don t mistake. ANSWER TO THE FOURTH ENIGMA IN NO. 63, BT J, OOSLIN, May nothing stop the prond career Of " The Penny Sunday Times i" Each page abounda with knowledge clear, May stoppage never mar its rhymes, Newcastle- upon- Tyne. J. K. CHARADES. I. I'm a word of dx lettefa, which I'd hava you find ont, Which won't give you mneh trouble, I bare little doubt. My first yon will find In the famed rirer Dee, My second, though strange, I'll prove to be Yon, My third, If you're busy, you'll find in a Bee, As my fourth it's in London, from truth I'm not starting; My fifth ( It is queer) is all In my Eye, And my sixth Is In Betty Martin. My whole, it forms a well- known City, Where the boya they're trlskey and the girls are pretty. Portland View. B. M. C. II. I've a female acquaintance, whose Christian nnd sir Names are backwards and forwards the same ; She'a " fat, fair, and forty," from hence you'll infer She's a comely and motherly dame. Transpose but the letters, aud straight will be seen A weight, a nickname for a man, A city of old, the spouse of a queen, A denial— deny it who can ? The reverae of cold weather, the half ofa place That in London is feioivn very common, Two things of great use, and part of a race, An insect, the name of a woman. I lore and ndinlra— she's kind- hearted and free, With health and good spirits she's bleat. I could tell you, but hold, here's enough, sir, for me, And I leave you to find out the rest. III. My 7,1,10, is a covering for the head; my 2,12, 9, 6, is an ar. VALUABLE FAMILY MEDICINES, Prepared only by C. ROBERTS, at his Medical Establish- ment, 96, WINCHCOMB STREET, CHELTENHAM. UNDER DISTINGUISHED PATRONAGE. AMONG the numerous diseases Children are sabject to, none has been found more difficult tc, remove 1an RINGWORM and SCALD HEAD. The Proprietor begs ito caU the attention of the Public to his OINTMENT and POWDERS which, from having used in hundreds of cases, some of Ih. « ana roar) care stsn, with success, and never having known H to tail, ire can rernmmenn " s » convenient, mild, and certain remedy. SoM in " fc^ tining S « ment >"<> powder) Sd' " CO, with full directions. . lh ahovc preparations, public In cenfirmatron of the efficacy 01 . testimonial, selecicd notice is particularly directed to the follow .... 7 from numerous others: . - 10.1R41 Chronicle Office, Cheltenham, May •. . Dear Sir,— I bave always a great aversion to what is called Medicines," but when facts are brought to one's knowledge that can not be controverted, it is a duty we owe » o the public to make known any receipt that has proved effectual in curing diseases. I therefore feel great pleasure in bearing my homble testrmony to the healing property contained in tiie Ointment which yon have pre- pared for the RINGWORM. Several families, with whom 1 am inti- mately acquainted, hare been induced to try the same, and agree with myself in pronouncing its use as a perfect cure. 1 remain, dear Sir, yours, S< c. ' THOMAS RAWL1NGS. of such matters yourself; it is unpardonable for a woman ttcle of conaumptton i my 3, 8, 9, 11, la a fruit • my 3, 12,1,10, is not to understand something of needlework. Your mother must have been negligent with respect to your education. CATTY.— In troth, my mother was as good to me as she was able, but she was too poor and bard set to send me to school, and she knew nothing herself about what belongs to needle- work, and we hod no free- schools then, and good ladies to look after us— and many a heavy hour, sure enough, it would hare passed over tor me, if I had the needle edication itself. Mr. D.—( Glad to escape from a dissertation on a sub- ject which be was not very well np to.) Instead of it, you oocapy your idle hours m smoking. CATTY.— A trifle of the tobaccy is whit I can't by no means do without. But sure a pen'north at a time is no great extravagance ? M. D.— A pennyworth of good bread would bo infi- nitely better for you. But have you ever calculated the amount of a penny a day, by the year ? CATTY— Why, thenj I never did ; nor never was any great band at figures. M. D.— For every penny spent in the day, you are to reckon thirty shillings and fire pence a year: in two years, this money would purchase a small cow; and I think that your own patch of a garden would enable you to feed her, with the help of a run now and then in " one of my fields. CATTY,— That's all true for you, sir ; and glad I'd be to have the sup of milk for the children and iny man, but— Mr. D.— But what. Catty ? CATTY.— I was thinking of a sis^ ef- lii- law of mine, that gave up the pipe, and bought a pig with the savings ; and the pig had her leg broke, and never did any good till she died— so she might as will have had the satisfac- tion of the pipe; howsomever, this is no maxim to ba sure. And surely I'll break myself of the pipe, and see about the fittings next week, or the week after. Mr. D Now here yon are abusing your trust in God. Why not do to- morfow, or this day, what you are post- poning without any good reason whatever ? CATTY.— Well, then, I will see about it to- morrow; and sure, God is good, ar. d may give us another boy to be a help to us in our old age. As for the girls, 1 wouldn't wish for them at all; they're too changeable and too brittlesome; and, iu the end, if you haven't a couple of COws, and feather bed to giv* them, it's no easy matter to get rid of them. Mr. D I oan't agree wilh you in this, Catty. We should not complain nor murmur at the will of Provi- dence in either case; but were 1 to choose for myself, I should prefer a daughter, and I'm surprised that yon should not wish for one. CATTY.— Give me the boys for ever; they're the sop port of a poor body when they grows old, Mr. D. - Not always. Betides you have all boys; and you have no notion, when you advance in years, what a comfort a daughter would be to you, especially if well educated ; and surely her assistance in preserving neat- ness and regularity in the house, would be a credit to you, and save you a great deal of trouble; and what a pleasant oompanion to you, when the men were at work, and how neatly she would make your Sunday gown, and at a lei- sure hour she would read you some agreeable story out of the books she got as premiums at school, and nurse you in sickness, with a degre* of fidelity and care, of whicb wo- men alone are capable. Now, Catty, don't you think all this should make yoa wish for a daughter ? CATTY.-— Troth, I can't say agin it; but, after all, if 1 was to die, and to leave her here with the wide world afore her, wouldn't she be worse off than the mankind ? Mr. D.— It is to be hoped not, Catty, To use your own favourite expression, God is good; and, if she were a good and innocent girl, relying sincerely and devoutly on that good God for protection, he would never fail, or for- sake her ; and then, Catty, you might not die till'yoa saw her comfortably married and settled, perhaps under your own roof, or in your own neighbourhood, with your little used tn Ireland for fuel} my 3,8,9, Is a kind ofpulset my 3, b, 10, isa hollow place) my 2, 9, 11, 8, Is the female of an useful animal) my 2,1, 11, is to injure; my 2, 9, 3, is to delineate ; my 2, 9, 11, 5, 6, 5, 2, 8, relates to Ihe sea; my 2, 9, 6, Is seen iu every house ; my 2, 1,6, 12, la a companion i ray 3, b, 3, 12, is a tube; my 3, 3, 9, 2, 1, 10, 11,12, Is a skin covering the brain ; my 3, 5, 12, 1 i, Is a support; and my whole Is a place of amusement. Maidstone. R. P. IV. Ladles and Gentlemen, here's a charade, From a word containing six letters it's made. 3, 4, b, and 6 are a pest to the poor, 1, 4, 5, and 6 dwell under the floor; 6,3, and 1 is ttie name of a wide spreading tree, 3, 1, and 6 Is indispensable In masonry. 4, 5, and 6 furnishes you with a sport very fine, 2, 3, and 6 Is liked hy us all when we dine. My whole's a disgrace to the king or the peasant, To tell what it la I leave to you for the present. V. That I'm a word of eight letters you'll find, For my first three with hair and cloth ia Hned. At the participle of my 4, 3, 6, are many men employed, By using my first four are many youtha destroyed. My S, 7, 6, on a fine day, you'll easily see in the park, My whole soldiers dread as safiora do the shark, Dublin, May, 1841. THOMAS DINGNAN. VI. If " Tear Wool" be transposed aright, A place that's famous will appear in sight; Where once brave Britons fou^ it with deadly rage. And ' graved their names on History's brightest page. VII. If what you daily put on your feet be transposed. What you put It Into will" be clearly disclosed. VIII. The Jews are not allowed my first, And we're forbidden to do my second) If sickness seized us on the sea. My whole a luxury would be reckoned. Dublin. 3. GOSLING, SCRIRTURAI, NAMES. I. From a cardinal point, if a vowel be mlss'd, A pronoun then added will greatly assist. II. Two- thirds of a bird, and one- half of a trade. Now try, and I'm sure yon will guess my charade. A rowel, and a grown up boy. Another vowel I must employ; Two- thirds of a linendraper'a measure, Pray try and make it out at leisure. iV. A city In Somerset, and a pronoun put to It, With one- half of a dog's growl, now say if you know It. A title for Apollo, A vowe' then likewise; The Freneh for " my," when added, Will give him who was wis*. N. DIAJ. ROBERTS'S COMPOUND CHAMOMILE PILLS A certain care forlndisestion, Sick and Nervous Head Ache, Pain in the Chest, Loss of Appetite, & c. . C. R. can with the greatest confidence recommend them in we above Complaints, they having given relief in a few days, when Bleeding and Cupping have failed. ,„ . The following Cases selected from above fifty, will prove the truth of what has been asserted : Sir,— I am happy to inform you that yo* r valuable Chamomile Pi » have entirely removed the distresiing pain and giddiness in my head, after bleeding, cupping, and blistering, had failed lo give the least relief. ' Sir, Yours respectfully, Albion Street, Cheltenham. Wm- FIELD. March 11, 1833, . . J a, . Sir,— Having many years been greatly afflicted with dreadful pains and giddiness in my head, which I had laboured under for aome years; and after taking Morrison's and other pill* without getting any relief, I was recommended to take your celebrated Chamomile Pills; and after taking one small box, I found to my great astonishment, great relief; and I can afflrm, that I am now in better health than I have been for * considerable time, and am . hie to follow my employment. X am. Ton,^ ^^ Bath Eoad, Cheltenham. Sold Wholesale and Retail by appointment, by Messrs. HANNAY and D1ETR1CHSEN 63, Oxford Street, corner of Well Street, London; and Mr. HARRIS, Chemist, Bull- Ring, Birmingham; and Retail by one ormora Chemists in every town throughout Eng- land, In Boxes at 1 » . Hd. and 2s. 9d. each. N. It Orders from every part of the United Kingdom received through the General Post- Office, promptly executed. Be aure to ask for Roberts's, non* other are genuine; and aee that tbe nam* is on the stamp. POETS. 1.— A female quadruped, and a meadow. 2.— The retreat ol wild beasts, and salted pork. 3.— The head of a Christian Church. 4.— To impel a beat along the water, and a vowel. 5.— To perform an arithmetical operation, a vowel, and * re- lation. 6.— Att adjective the reverse to wet, and the retreat of wild beasts. CITIES ON THE THAMES. 7.— A male quadruped, and a shallow part of * rlr « r. 8.— A female biped, and paatural ground. 9.— Three- fourths of a sum of money lent, and a Spanish noble- man. 10.— A forest and a village in ESIKV. , , , 11.— One of the cardinal points of the compass, and a cathedral Church, Sheffield. A' J' p' AUTHORS. 12 — Cie- forth of a very high person, one- half of a part of the faee,' onelfour .'^ a beverage, one- third of an eplatle, and one- ^ aion'JwSVf. - eal, one third of a domestic animal, c fourtlT^ a bird of prey,' on> ird ° f ^" UOn' ^ 0De" Three " auuhs ofa quk.^ Pvi, oM. h,. f . f a spring, and one fourth of a flower. MORE TESTIMONIALS OF THE BENEFICIAL EFFECTS OF PARR'S LIFE PILLS, IN LEICESTER, AND THE NBIGHBOUNNPOD. THE following facts have beeti mentioned to Mr. J. F. WINKS, Wholesale Agent for PARR S FILLS, In Leicester, who has preserved the nam* and resi- d' 11" 01 eacn 01 the parties, which he Is ready to produce :— , ... , A person In Oxford- street, Leicester, aged 44, hod i? « « n 111 yaars of a kind of lnfiuenia. The club surgeon said be " ° consumption, and woiald never recover. He began to take . ne° ® Pills three months ago, previous to which, he had be « K confined ." his bed six months. The Pills first brought away a jreat deal of offensive matter, and then he gradually recovered. Can now walk about without a stick, aud thought It his duty lo make it known. He called again afterwards, and begged his name might not be published, aa it might offend the alub doctor. The wife « f Mr. Brown, in Fleet- street, has been In a low way for some time; she took the Pills regularly, and soon found her spirits more cheerful, and her sight and hearing, which had been affected, were improved. She said they were pleasant to take, not causing a sickly feeling or giving the least pain. Miss Evans. Chatham- street, is a mender, in a warehouse ; had been much afflicted for several years, and not able to do more thao two hours work in a day; she took the Pills, and aoon was Im- proved In health, and could see much better. She now works her regular hoars. Mr. Hwiihaw, of Bagworth, has been long subject to palpitation ef the heart, and could not walk up hill. Had the advice of am eminent physician in Leicester, but was no better till he toek these Pills, bat now is quite recovered. The wife of Mr. J. Frost, at the same plaee, was so tormented with a cough that she could uot sleep. She had taken the Pill*, which had done her, her huaband said, a " world of good." Mr. R. Vann, of Belgmve, had been 111 fire years of palpitation of the b* art. Had been in the Infirmary, and under aererat phy- sicians and Burgeons. H as been gradually Improving sine? he took these Pills and is now able to work. Mrs. Turner, of Whetstone, had found them very beneficial f « the scrofula. Many other cases have bi; en mentioned by persons who have purchased the Pills. Indeed, the very extensive and increasing aale of thla useful medicine. Is the best proof that can be deafcrod hew highly It Is appreciated. I shall be happy to answer enquiries. J. F. WINKS, 20th March, 1841. Bookseller, LeleesUr. The following extraordinary case of cure has been communicated to the Wholesale Agent for PARR'S LIFE PILLS, at Notting. ham:— Mrs. JOSEPH SIMPSON, Chnrch Hill Close, Old Lenton, new- Nottingham, has been severely afflicted for the last thirty year* with a violent Cough and difficulty of Breathing. Th* affliction has baen so severe that she could not follow her usualoc .. upatlons. She took cold when only fifteen years old, and the cc jgh never left her till she took Par' s Life Pills. She had tried ain ost e « eiy kind of medicine, but nothing afforded relief, and ah* also had taken Laudanum in large quantities. She heard of Parr's Pills abeut last Christmas, and a* soon a* she had taken about half a box, she found herself i ompletely cured, and has never been affected in the slightest man- er doing the severe weather that followed, and is now better in h alth than she has ever been in ber life. She will be happy to answer any inquiries, by personal inquiries or lettsr. Mrs. JOSEPH SIMPSON, Old Lenton, near Nottingham, The above case, and hundreds of others, shewing the wonderful efficaey of Parr'a Life Pilla needs no comment,— they al enow the UNIVERSAL MEDICINE and restorer to health. Sold by most respectable Medicine Vendors, In Boxes, a Is. Ud. t 2s. 9d., and 1 la. Dec. 18, 1840.— In order to protect the public from Imitation*, the Hon. Commiaslonera of Stamps have ordeied " PARR'S LIFK PILLS " to be engraved on the Government Stamp attached to each box, without which none are genuine. LondonPrinted and Published by E. LLO\ D, 231, High Street, Shoreditch; and at 44, fJol^ well- street, Strynd, u ,„