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Paul Pry The Reformer of the Age

01/01/1849

Printer / Publisher: G. Johnstone 
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 35
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Paul Pry The Reformer of the Age

Date of Article: 01/01/1849
Printer / Publisher: G. Johnstone 
Address: 12, Russell-court, Brydges-street
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 35
No Pages: 4
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NEW SERIES. PAUL M FRY " IT IS A VIRTUOUS ACTION TO EXPOSE VICIOUS MEN."— DB YD BN. No. 35.— NEW SERIES, PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PINNY. VENUS ATTIRED BY THE GRACES. Among the splendid collection of pictures which adorn the walls of the National Gallery, there are some more attractive, from the style, the story, the drawing, colouring, & c„ than the others. Of all painters, ancient or modern, Titian is admitted to have carried off the palm, by the brilliancy, the smooth softness, the glowing carnations, as well as the pure paleness of his flesh colours, but more par- ticularly in those splendid masterpieces of art, where he has selected Venus, the goddess of terrestrial delights, for his subject. Venus attired by the graces, has long been admired for its manifold beauties. It is on subjects of this kind that the painter seems to have poured out the whole resources of hi » art— to have lavished all his skill— to have finished with such elaboration and care, as to give to the whole figure the semblance of life. The goddess Venus makes no inconsiderable figure in the heathen mythology By some among the ancients she was surnamed Apostrophia, because she presided over wanton- ness and incestuous enjoyments. In addition, she was known as the Venus Urania, because she patronised a love that was pure, chaste, and noble; and thirdly, she was known as Venus Pandtmos, because she lent herself to favour the vicious propensities of the vulgar, and was pas- sionately addicted to sensual pleasures. She was also the patroness of courtezans; and she now numbers many a priestess at her altars, while her votaries have not suffered any diminution. Throughout tho whole of Greece and Syria, temples were erected, and statues of the most elabo- rate beauty perpetuated her image. The mysteries of the Syrian groves, where she was worshipped as Astarte, are detailed with much spirit aud zest by some of the old authors, whose writings are not always to he obtained, though we may give a page now and then in some future numbers. As her amours were extensive, and included almost the whole of the Olympian senate, she sheltered her cracked reputation under' the name of wife, ( for Vulcan was an easy sort of husband after all,) so was her progeny numerous, more numerous even than that of the lastt wo Georges put together. In Rome she was worshipped as Venus Gcnetrix; and Cflssar boasted thjit he was descended from this patroness of licentiousness and impurity, because Julius, an ancestor, was the grandson ot Anchises and Venus. She was as liberal, therefore, of her person to mortals as to the members of Jupiter's council- board. In the picture she is represented as being attended by the graces, who in addition to having bestowed upon her every | ideal and mental beauty they themselves possessed, are evi- dently endeavouring to heighten her charms by some rich and ornate articles which give an inexpressible finish to the I painting from the manner and the attitude in which she is depicted. As the promptress, the incentive of the " universal pas- sion," she has been the patroness of the most infamous de- baucheries, and may be said to have revelled more in the gross impurities which pollute and defile, than to have delighted in that moderate enjoyment which docs not ener- vate and destroy. In London, as in all great cities, the worship of the gross, the sensual Venus, forms no unimportant item in the aggre- gate of a man's business, which he pursues with more or less avidity according to the manner in which he permits his passions to play upon him, and the consequence is, that the human race is gradually degenerating into a puny, miserable mass, either scrofulous, or diseased to the very marrow, or at all events predisposed beyond all precedent to be seized with colds, inflammations, and infections of every kind. That the animal rules over the man in the majority of cases, one may easily convince himself is the fact. It is not by any means a gratifying sight to behold a young healthy man revelling among harlots, any one of whom you could swear was an incipient hospital, a walking mass of disease, not at the moment giving evidence of existence, save to the physician, who perceives, by a diagnosis too decided, that beneath those painted cheeks, and in those brilliant eyes, there festers, riots, boils, in the impure blood, the seeds of a scourge, so dreadful, so horrible, so fatal, that would he but think one moment, lie would run shrieking from them, and acknowledge that chastity has more attractions than battening upon the impurities of the courtezans. THE FRAIL SISTERHOOD. PIVOINE. ( Continued ft am our last.) Now Pivoine had ten sous 1 Her appetite still kept in creasing. Luckily she perceived at the angle of the Port au Change an ambulating merchant, who carried on a large Sat basket a collection of those vulgar pasties in which there is every thing except pure flour and wholesome fruit, and which the gamin of Paris ha3 a particular affection for under the deno- minations of " chaussons aux pommes, chausaons aux pru- neaux," & c. Pivoine made a purchase of two tarts for four soui, and again seating herself on her bank, she commenced her « oli- tary and poor repast. Poor indeed, for the rancid butter and nauseous and musty paste made the poor girl sick at every mouthful. But she was hungry and she ate. A dispenser of cocoa passed along the quay agitating his little bells. By the payment of a sou, Pivoine was initiated in the delights of this detestable but innocent drink, which consists of an infusion of a little liquorice wood in plenty of Seine water. And God knows whether at this moment she regretted the pure water of her fountains. But we repeat it, it was too lata. The hour of ten struck from the clock of the palace of Justice. An extraordinary animation began to reign throughout the place. Fiacres filled with people passed every moment, and from these fiacres proceeded strange cries and noisy exclamations. From between the black trunks and tall poplars, Pivoine, fancying herself in a dteam, observed a fantastic proces- sion of men and women singularly dressed, singing and gesticulating. 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE Some wore pantaloons of black velvet with red bands, starred with dazzling buttons ; others, their faces whitened with flour, were attired in large sacks made of white calio, or coarse linen. These had red ptaiies of inconceivable heighth. Others, again, wore the tube of a sjobeby way of a head dress. ' There were men dressed as women. There were women disguised as men. And all wer& vociferating joyously and endeavouring to excel. each otheiV But the words that reached Pivoine pre- sented no sense to her ear or to her mind. Hoy! theTitis! thej chicards and the balocards! ahoy! Hoy! the flambords! Hoy! the boatmen! the swipers ! the revellers! Hoy! the swaggerers! the pierrettes! ahoy! the mi{ ffles! Hoy! the boys of the carnival, of the festival, of the bac- chanal ! ahoy! Such were the exclamations that reached the young girl, but which she did not comprehend. We repeat it, there was simply at the Prado a grand fete de nuit and a bal masque. CHAPTEK VIII. THE FIRST NIGHT. Twelve o.' clock struck. The rolling of the carriages had almost ccased; tho qnayS, and the place of the palace of justice, became more and more deserted. _ There was only heard those distant sounds, tbat rise like the buzzing of a beehive, from the populous centres of Paris; and at moments, through the windows of the Prado, escaped the dying notes of some rapid polka, or of some infernal galopade. The cold became bitter. Pivoine shivered beneath her scanty garments. She well knew she could not pass thc rest of the night in this spot, unless with the risk of being dead before morning. But what was to be done? What was to become of her? Where was she to go? These were questions she eould not answer. Pivoine knew not that there exist in Paris certain un- wholesome kennels, where for two sous one might sleep pell- mell with the scum of gentry owning no profession, rogues and vagabonds of the great city; besides, she would not have dared to knock at the door of one of these asylums. She rose, took up her small bundle, approached the quay, and half concealed by a tree against which she leant, she waited. " There must be in Paris," she said to herself, " some place of refuge iu which I could be received for a night; I will address myself to the first that passes, and he will tell me where I must go." But no one came, and the young girl, whose teeth chat- tered, and whose eyes were dimmed with tears, once jinore beheld in her imagination the cottage of her father, and her little chamber, so warm and comfortable, and her bed with its white dimity curtains. The damned, when they dream of Paradise, cannot suffer more in hell. At length Pivoine heard the sound of steps, and made a movement to meet the individual approaching. He was a man of the people, with a vulgar countenance, torn gar- ments, and whose sudden and unequal gait evidenced a state of drunkenness almost complete. Pivoine drew back with fear. Some soldiers came next, accompanied by some girls, whom they were kissing and hugging, and bawling out their ob- scene songs. The poor girl again drew back. Suddenly the shivering child had a momentary hope. An individual of mature age, decently dressed, and pos- sessing an honest countenance, came towards her, walking in the middle of the road, and at every step looking to the right, to the left, and behind him, and striking the ground with the point of his heavy cane to frighten away imaginary thieves. Pivoine quitted her tree, and tremblingly made a few steps. The citizen fanciedfhe was attacked, stopped with alarm, and put himself ill a defensive attitude with his cudgel. However, seeing that his affair was only with a woman, he appeared a little more at his ease. " Sir—" murmured the young girl. " Pass on your way!" interrupted the citizen. " I have no money." And he made a movement to continue lii:, road. " But, Sir," continued the girl, placing her l. and on the arm of her interlocutor to retain liim, " I do not ask you for charity! Tell me simply, iff the name^ of heaven, where I can sleep to night." The citizen, a married and modest grocer, completely mistook the sense uf this supplicatory question. He brutally repulsedthe- ybung girl, hnd exclaimed— Where you can sleep, tramper?— it will not be at my house to a certainty! Qo and find your customers elsewhere, and touch me not!" He then continued his way; leaving Pivoine alone and in despair. The young girl waited for no more, - she felt herself lost, completely", irrevocably. At sixteen,' in the midst of Paris, she must die a painful and lingering death, feel the cold be- numb by degrees' every limb, and freeze the blood in her veins. It was frightful! Pivome said to herself that it was better to make a finish of it at once; she traversed the remainder pt fhe road, gftlhed the Bridge nit Change, leant over tlie parapet and contemplated the Seine that flowed beneath her. The sight of these bla'ck waves beating against the arches made her giddyi fear crept over her, her heart failed her, she sank within herself and wept bitterly. ' But, at the vefy moment that Pivoine . ceased to rely upon Providence, Providence came to her succour. A new per- sonage ascended the bridge humming a tune of the Opera Comique. This was a tall young man. a cigar in his mouth, and his hands in his packctsfon his Head lie wore a sailor's little hat illustrated with a multitude of ribbons of every colour. Over a waterman's costume he wotfe a brown paletot, and his long red scarf with gold fringe fell almost to. his heels. His face, handsome, hut fatigued, hiid rtn expression of lively good- humour; his natnhtllv cui- Icd hail* was black, and richly abundant, as well as. hf? moustaches curled in a very knowing fashion. He approached Pivoine, and at the sight of the voung girl's Normand eap, he exclaimed— " Ah!" a woman disguised!" lis then added: " What are you doing here, my rosebud ? Are you out o/ ji/ fh by any chance?" The young girl raised lier head, her f-. cs was bathed in tears. " She weeps/ pursued the young man astonished, " what folly!: You come from the ball, and are crving! Come, my girl, is it the champagne that has caused all this"? ( We have heard of such things.) Or is it that you have some grief? Your lover has turned sulky with you perhaps! Faith,- it might be so, and ' tis very unpleasant, I don't deny it! but you must no! despair for that. Where's the use of it?" „. '.' Sir—" murmured Pivoine, " take pity on me." " Why, by all the angels— I ask for nothing better!— Iu the first place, rise up, and you can then tell me your whole affair. I can guess it all at once; on entering the ball with your lover, you had a few words, and he dropped you at the door! ' Tis not very polite!" Whilst speaking, the young man had taken Pivoine's hand to assit her to rise, for she had crouched down on the pavement. " How cold you are!" he continued, " Why you are frozen, poor girl! You have been a long time out then?—" " Oh ! yes—- very long— all night I have waited— there." And by a gesture Pivoine designated the place of the flower- market. '• Nonsense! You are joking with me!" Pivoine made no reply; she could neither speak nor sup- port herself. The young man perceived this complete enervation, and not knowing as yet what to attribute it to, he took Pivoine in his arms to carry her beneath a gas lamp. " In the name of a pipe!" he exclaimed, " how pretty she is, but how pale too!" Then observing the little bundle which the young girl had not resigned, and more particularly noticing her cestume, he added: " Decide lly she is not disguised, she is a natural born Normande, just arrived by the coach from the country of cider! Why the devil was she crying like that, just now? Perhaps it was nothing but the cold ; at any rate, despite her inflamed eyes and pale cheeks, she is deucedly pretty!!!" At this moment Pivoine partly recovered from the state of profound unconsciousness ill which she was plunged, but she only became conscious of the feeling of physical suffer- • ing; her senses, benumbed like her limbs, did not permit ! her to obtain a very clear account of what was passing around her. " I am very cold," she said in a voice scarcely intelligible. The young man drew off the paletot that covered his sailor's dress, and placed it on Pivoine's shoulders. The young girl crept instinctively into the folds of this warm garment. " Will you come home with me?" enquired her com- panion. " Yes," she murmured. " Can you walk?" " I will try." " Besides, it is quite handy. Come, en route! Lean on my arm, and be firm! When I met with yon, my child, I was going to idle away an hour at the opera ball after leaving the Prado! but bah! I have played enough, let who will, win!" Pivoine, supported by the young man, essayed a few tottering steps, which by degrees became more firm, as the movement produced a circulation of the blood in her stiffened limbs, and after a walk of about ten minutes, the pair stopped before a small furnished hotel of the Rue de la Harpe, the German Hotel. The would- be sailor rang vigorously, and the door was immediately opened. " Here we are arrived at our destination, free of postage! Enter my child," he said, introducing Pivoine into a dark and narrow passage, at the extremity of whieh burnt a feeble light behind the windows of a sort of lodge, baptised with tho pompous name of office. " Who goes there ?" growled a slumbering voice from the lodge. " Me, No. 6," replied our boatman; " fight my candle, Antoine, and quickly, I have a lady." " There, M'sieu Virgil, there." The crack of a lucifer was heard as it scraped along the wall, and a lad, in his nightshirt, and with a majestic night- cap of white cotton, appeared on the threshold of the office, and presented to the new comer a candle and a key, at the same time taking a secret survey of Pivoine, who was lean- I ing against the bannisters. " Take my arm," said the young man, " and let us mount, ' tis not very high." In fact No. 6 was on the second floor. " Sit down my child," said the debardeur, pushing an arm- chair towards the fireplace. " I will make a fire." There was in the grate a heap of logs and small wood, very artistically disposed; a sheet of paper and a match sufficed to produce a warm and cheerful blaze. The light, joined to the two candles on the chimney- piece which the sailor lighted, brilliantly illuminated the chamber they were in, a chamber which Pivoine scanned with a look both of astonishment and alarm. It was a room, of moderate size, similar to the. apartments of students in the most quiet hotels of . the Latin quarter. The grey paper, with its little roses which covered the walls, was turned to a sombre yellow. The mahogany bedstead, in the shape of a boat, was surrounded with drapery of white dimity with red bordering, like window curtains. There was no carpet, but a red, waxed, and well polished floor. In one of the corners of the room Was a commode. Opposite, a sofa covered with old velvet, formerly red, and two fauteuils to match. A small bureau next the chininey- pitee, a round table in the middle of the room, and two straw chairs. Such was the furniture. It was, as we see, more than humble, but certain details gave a physiognomy, if we may use the term, to this modest chamber. Thus, the walls were adorned with a considerable number of lithographs by Gavarni, very clever and - very choice. On each side of the old fluted timepiece, there were" some pretty statuettes by Pradier, representing young women attired simply in their chastity. Near these statuettes, several bottles of different shapes promised samples of liqueurs of every country; for we rea^' on their labels— Jamaica Rum, Dantzig Brandy, Dutfh Curacoa, Bordeaux Anisette, & c. A dozen glasses, small and large, some sound,? others wofully chipped, escorted the flasks. Little piles of ashes, the residue of cigars and pipes, were heaped up at different places on the marble chimuey- pieee and also on the round table. Til ® bureau supported a few books, amongst which was remarked a copy of the French Code, recognisable by its singular " edges. The others were the novels then in vogue. The Mysteries of London, and. The Chateau of the. Pyrenees. Lastly, that we may forgetj nothing, an armoury of a I novel kind was composed of two fencing foils, with thc masks and gauntlets, a billiard cue richly inlaid, the oar Of ! a Parisian rower, and a long Algerian pipe. The most complete" disorder" reigned throughout, the room, i Loose garments were scattered here and there. Boots were ! on the chairs, slippers on the bod, and a robe de chambre on thc ground. ( To be continued in our next.) LETTERS ON CONVENT DISCIPLINE. SIR,— Having seen some flattering testimonials of Pro- testants on the mode of Catholic education in Convent Schools, I venture to give my practical acquaintance whilst receiving instruction in the Convent of the Ursujines, Rue de la Paille, Paris. At the age of sixteen I left School, and remained for three years my father's housekeeper, at his house in Bedford- Row, when he, to my great sorrow, died, leaving me the bulk of his fortune on my coming of age. In the mean - time, £ 70 a year was left to his executors to find a suitable School where I was to reside. One of his executors, who is since dead, was a Catholic, and he proposed my residing at a Convent School in Paris. I was nineteen, and being impressed with a high notion of Parisian schools, was much pleased with thc plan, and delightedly gave my consent. I j ourneyed to Paris in the company of the executor and his lady, who showed ) ne all the principal sights of Paris, and I spent a month as delightfully as possible, receiving on all occasions as much admiration of my budding charms as would have turned the head of any woman. However, the month of July drew near, and for two years I was only to behold persons of my own sex, excepting a few priests. How impassioned was poor Charles, a youth of nineteen, when he besought me to give him my hand instead of going to School. I told him it was my father's last wish, and that when I left the Convent, which would be in two years, my hand should be his. He went to India, and died nine months after from fever. It was now July, and I bsde farewell to all gaieties, had my hair cut short, and adopted the black frock and stockings, and plain body linen ( no drawers allowed), which the pupils wore, and on the 5th of July entered the Convent at 6 p. m., when I sat down to tea and supper with nearly a hundred girls from thirteen to twenty- one; the majority of them were more than seventeen, and principally English. After tea we all walked in the garden, and at eight o'clock we were summoned to prayers, which were read by a handsome young priest. I then retired with eleven others, to a room, where twelve beds were placed. A nun accompanied us, and without speaking, we all undressed, and got into bed, the nun leaving us without wishing us good night, but muttering a Latin prayer. In the morning at six o'clock, the nun returned and or- dered us up. We rose and went down to the Chapel and heard prayers. We then took breakfast, and after an hour's walking in the garden, assembled in the school- room. I was examined by Sister Theresa, and placed in the second class. We read the " Death of Hippolytus," and acquitted our- selves very well; but the first class was not so fortunate, and the Lady'Superior, who was very angry with Miss Margaret Porter, ordered her to the block. The unlucky culprit was a beautiful fair- haired girl of eighteen, and whose face and bosom were covered with blushes, as this was her first punishment. She knelt down, and Sister Agatha tied her hands and uncovered her person, passed a strap across her back, and thus secured her so that she could not move. The Superior advanced with a birch almost a yard long, and commenced the execution. The unlucky Marga- ret screamed at the twelfth stroke, but took the remaining dozen very quietly, though when she was released her lip was bleeding from her biting it during the punishment. She returned to her seat, and five minutes afterwards burst into tears, at the thought, doubtless, of the shameless exposure she had just been subjected to. I thought of it next morn- ing, when I accompanied her to the bath, and felt that it might be my turn next, though one of the young ladies who was with us laughed at it, saying that it was a mere fleabite, and it certainly did not show many marks. I regretted not availing myself of Charles' offer. However, there was no escaping. I determined to learn my lessons, and not be like Margaret, who really deserved some, though not so shameful a punishment EMMA M—. ( To be continued in our next.) CAUTION ! We deem it necessary to warn the public against the many impositions which are so constantly practised towards them. The " Fawn" steam- packet, which goes from Hungerford pier to Gravesend, professes, by a public placard, to carry passengers for ninepence a head, " saloon" one shilling. Now the extortion of threepence upon a plea as ridiculous as it is scandalous, must be looked upon with the same severity that one looks upon the deliberate overcharge of three shillings, or three pounds. The passenger is therefore cautioned that if he take his place in the fore- part of the boat ( and who has not seen the saloon), and remain there the whole time, should he call to the man who has the tickets and collects the money— should he call to him, we say, in passing, and should this man not hear him, he must not go to the after- part of the vessel, near to the'cabin- door, to save this worthy individual the trouble of coming round again, bccause the moment he puts his fbot upon this pecu- liar spot he is charged one shilling. Or it is done in this manner:— The collector lias the book, he takes out a black check, and you hand a shilling with the expectation of re- ceiving your change, the book is instantly chafl'ged for a yellow one and a tieket given you, and when you ask for your change, the reply is—" No, I have got the full fare, and I shall keep it." Such was the conduct cf the steward ( or whoever he was) of the " Fawn" to a correspondent last week, who adds, that it is useless to take out a summons, or to apply to the manager, Mr. W. Wcfllis. 1' atii and the public may be more influential. SHIRT AND STAYS. Poor Dick has lost his bran- new stays. Likewise his linen shirt; So through tlie town of Greenwich brays— His feelings being hurt. Cries Dick, " Alas! my shirt is gone. Likewise my bran- new stays; Some wretch lias ta'en them for a lark— I hate such larkish ways. " The girls ill Nelson- street, I ween, For fun are much inclined; They ask me if my linen's out— And point at my behind. " Give back, oil! give me back my shirt, My stays, too— pray, be quick; . - Or all the girls in Nelson- street : Will call me shirtless Dick. " Oh! if I find the party out, • I'll charge them precious quick; I'd rather cut my blessed throat— Than be called shirtless Dick." 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE PAUL ADVISES W. C— t, of Bohemia- place, Hackney, to mop his tater- trap of a morning wnen he mops his " omnibus, so that he may be enabled to use chaste and decent language to his pa- trons. Is it possible, old fellow, to live as well without work as with it? Mrs. R., not 200 miles from the White Horse, Brixton- road, to remember that pride goeth before a fall, to pay all outstanding debts, if she has any, and by no manner of means to " run to the casement to look at the men." Miss E. R— n, of Blackwall, to be particularly careful of the Egyptians, for we know they are perfect devils among the girls. Mr. W. B— d, major- domo, at a woollen- house, High- street, Boro', not to forget his position, and to recollect the world was not made for him alone. If after giving instructions that nothing shall be served unless you are present, you may happen to be called from your dinner to serve a yard of tape, pray do not lose your temper. A soft answer turneth away wrath, and a kind word may do much where an angry one would only make the case worse. C. Ir— e, of St. John- street, Smithfield, not to be conceited, • nor to run after the perriwinkle man's daughter so much. Mrs. P. not many doors from the Noah's Ark, Rotherhite, to mind her own business, and never scandalize her neigh- bours. Boor Mrs. P. be of good cheer— Don't beat your own Augustus, dear; But let those tragic scenes be dropt, And keep away from the Jerry shop. J. T— r, of Denham- yard, Strand, not to go to Battersea again with Miss M. B— r and Miss F. B— r, of New Church- court, Strand, and let them pay for all they have. Miss S— s, of Museum- street, Bloomsbury, not to be so proud, nor to trifle with the feelings of so many sighing swains. M. A. H— 11, of Allsop- place, New- road, to keep good hours, and wear a smaller bustle. J. W— d, of Britannia place, Wandsworth- road, not to accuse ( in public houses in the neighbourhood) Miss H. of running after him. John, she is perfectly : ware you are on the eve of marriage with the lady's- maid of Montpelier house. Pray do not imagine every girl in London is mad after you. J. P— y, of Tavistock- street, Covent- garden, not to be so fond of visiting Hyde- park, so late at night. W. G— li, not to think he's quite the thing when in com- pany with his two girls, and with a cabbage- leaf stalk in his mouth. The little flash man of Islington, not to be seen at the Wheat Sheaf, or other places with two girls. How about Miss T— s? So, she thinks herself a cut above you, does she? The boy at the Coffee- shop, in Drury- court, not to imagine himself everybody since he's bought a watch. P. W. W— d, not to visit Greenwich so often to meet Miss S— h of D— e- street, Lee, nor to come home from Creinorne on a Sunday with six ladies in a cab. The boy at the milk- shop, Drury- court, not to boast so much about his rowing and swimming, for we know he's a muff. Mrs. W— s, of Blewett's- buildings, Fetter- huie, not to be seen " from morn till dewy eve," at the bottc. ni of the build- ings, poking her nose into everybody's affairs. PROVINCIAL. KENT,— G. P. R., pilot of Gravesend, to pay more atten- tion to his deserving wife, and less to tlie B. R. Arms. It would be to his credit if he set a good example to his rising family. Mr. D. D— r, of Taylor's- buildings, to be master in his own right, and not lay under petticoat government. A fore- man's wife ought to afford a clean cap once a week. Mr. W. T— n, at Messrs. F— d's, Rochester, not to go home up Margaret- street, so late at night. You must allow it would be better for you to send your money to your wife you left behind at Nottingham, than spending it with the girls of Chatham. Miss C. T— t, of New- street, Deptford, not to annoy the neighbours, by romping up the court on Sunday evenings. Bob L— y, of Nelson- street, not to allow Jenny Lind to be seen in his mother's shop, she'd better stop in the kitchen and poultice his poor, dear face, that those nasty creatures scratched from him at Gutta Percha- row. SURREY.— The landlord of the Old Ship, Kingston- on- Thames, to stay at- home and allow his wifea little more rest. Mr. M., of Richmond, to pay his boys regularly, and not go to the gin- shop. K. T—- r, cook, Richmond- park, not to visit a certain young man in fjie service of a gentleman near Kingston, and when ihere not to backbite her servants. SURREY.— The young man residing on Mitcham- comuion, known by the cognomen of Jummy, to pay the half- crown weekly, and not put the poor girl off with promises; and likewise not to go out with married women and send them home to their husbands in a state of intoxication. Recollect the Croydon affair. NEWCASTLE- UPON- TYNE.— A. W— r, of Elswick- terrace, not to encourage little boys about a certain grocer's shop, in Munn's- street, of a Saturday night; and not to be so flighty when in the streets, or none of the little boys will ever have you. H.— sister of the above, to pay for her finery, and not be such a flirt. . Miss W— s, not above a mile from Jerusalem Temple, Percy- street, not to be seen flirting about with a married woman who had much - better stay at home and attend to her domestic concerns. GLASGOW.— Mr. F. L— d, of Stanley- street, not to imagine that all the women in Glasgow are desperately smitten with his " beautiful black eyes." We can assure him the girl of the gnde city is not quite so green. PAUL WISHES TO KNOW Whether the little barber of Maiden- lane, considers two shillings an enormous price for the little beauty ofthe Strand? Why S. N— s, of Meadow- cottage, Teddington, wears that black veil so much? Is it to hide her carrotty hair ? KENT.— Whether B. G— m, of the Golden Boot, Church street, Greenwich, locks the cupboard when she goes to- Gravesend; or whether he ever discharged a servant for eating too much? Paul cannot credit it, satirical Billy. Whether Jem C— ts, of Charles- street, Northampton- square, is fond of talking of that beastly propensity called gormandizing, and whether his conversation is as chaste as ever? Why Mr. II— y, of Holloway, takes notice of the fair girl of Holloway, and why he swings his head so much when walking? SURREY.— Why Miss E— n S— s, of Mitcham- common, paysjso many visits to the chandler's- shop opposite. Does she think tallow candles or soap are worth biting at? Why Miss E— a M— t, docs not attend more to her mother's mangle and less to a certain young man in the neighbourhood ? Whether Mr. S. 0— d, the little fascinating cheesemonger of High- street, Camden- town, fancies he has won the affec- tions of the young lady in the pink bonnet? MARONE; or, THE WINE OF LOVE. CHAPTER VIII. ( Continued from otir last.) THE CONTEST. The women fell back from around Passion, and the savage brood of robbers did the same thing. When the young man therefore beheld Blockey standing before him, there rose to his remembrance one moment of his past life, when the sight of the ruffian had filled him from the crown to the toe, full of ihe most fiery and brooding hatred. Here stood one he had known years ago. The leader of a small Thespian company at one time, at another conjurer and horse- leech, at another time smuggler, spy, and renegade, and finally the proprietor of a dancing booth, of which the danseuse called Marone, had been the principal attraction, till the ballet- mas- ter of the Opera had induced him for a sum of money to forego his claim upon her. If there were good reasons existing, why Passion should know this man, on the contrary, Blockey betrayed not the slightest recognition of him. He merely glanced upon him from his swollen and half- closed eyes with a sudden and brutal ferocity, and, while Passion was wondering what should bring him to this haunt of the refuse of mankind, some lurking suspicion of a new villany crossed his mind. Blockey broke forth with, " Well my lad, I can't but say that you're one of the pluckiest bits of blood I ever tackled, if I hfid taught you myself, you couldn't have smashed my olu guard down, that nobody else ever did, in better style. Boil my blood, added he in a kind of soliloquy, " if I can understand it, let's feel your hand," he added aloud, reaching out his own arm, and Passion, with a confident smile, placed his right hand into that of his late opponent. The small, white, elegant hand was curiously examined. The gleaming diamond ring met the eye of the ruffian, and he cried with au oath, " Aha! that's the way you fight is it, with a set of chisels like this to cut a fellow to pieces before he knows wot he's at." " No," said the youth calmly, " you see that I have turned the stone inward and that you have not a single scratch from it," and opening his hand the splendid stone shone forth witli a blinding lustre, so that a covetous and murderous fire flashed from the eyes ofthe bandits assembled. Blockey at sight of the stone had bent down his head to examine the chasing itr . und it and all at once a sudden pallor crossed his face as he stepped back to gaze once more upon the handsome face of Passion, but evidently to no use, for he shook his head muttering " strange, d— d strange, and yet I would have sworn it." " Now, are you satisfied with having seen my hand?" demanded Passion. " No, not quite, let me see your wrist, there must be some- thing strange if those heavy hits come from so slender an arm," and he- turned up the rather large and loose sleeves of the young man's coat, and laid the snowy linen over that again, till half the arm was bared. If the spectators were struck before with the while and elegant hand, the mould and form of the arm doubled their astonishment. It was white and smooth as ivory, slightly rounded where the muscles were most packed up after escaping the tendons below the elbow, but that slight arm was hard, dry and sinewy as an Arab's. The pressure of the strong man's thumb could scarcely dent the flesh. The muscles were like steel bent to the tension of a cross- bow, and, to the surprise of all, on the central part was tattooed in fine and thin characters with blue ink— V. de V. Spring Gardens, 19 May, 1813. And underneath this was written the single initial M. If this man had been suddenly seized with a terrible pain at that moment, he could not have made a more convulsive start, nor could liis eyes have glared more, than at the mo- ment his fell upon the writing. " Do you know that ? Do you remember anything of that?" asked Passion in a low tone, but so calm as if nothing in the world had taken place. " No— no— yea— no," stammered the. wan, while the black blood rushed from his face, and left it all yellow and bilious and sickly. But Passion turned down his shirt s'eeve, and adjusted that of his coat, saying, " Are you satisfied with your exami- nation ?" . " Yes," replied Blockey, hurriedly casting his eyes about the room, as if seeking for some way by which he might hastily depart. The sudden influence which Passion had in a moment obtained over this ruffian, increased the surprise of those around, while the moral force of his nature obtained an ascendancy over those rude and lawless men, which would have puzzled them amazingly to explain. Gaffin was not the least astonished of the lot. " I say, Bill Blowfire," whispered Squizzly to his com- ( panion. " w'ot d'ye make of all this?" " Ax me this time ten year," replied the other very gravely, " and p'raps I'll have found it out, at present I'm " d— d if I can tell heads or tails of it." Blockey during this little interval had beckoned to his companion Nobby Jem, and appeared inclined to make a move without further ceremony, when Passion- laid his hand on his shoulder, the touch alone seemed to paralyze the man. " It is you that I have been in search of, he whispered." " Me!" ejaculated Blockey, staggering. " Yes, have you forgotten me?" the last word was pro- nounced by Passion with a lengthened emphasis, aud an ex pression on his face so bold, cruel, and hateful, that the man shrank back as if the youth had been going to stab him. " I— I don't know you," stammered the man, *" Leasta- ways, I shall know you," he added, rubbing the side of his head <; I want to know the name of the man who employs you," said Passion. " Employs me! what for?" demanded Blockey,. exhibiting surprise. " I also want to know where you live," pursued Passion, in the same cool and collected manner. " Where I live," echoed the bravo, his confusion and his fear increasing. " In order that I may come and see you, and talk about old times," continued Passion, " you must remember how much I have to remind 1110 of them." The man turned livid, and his limbs tippeare 1 to be un- strung. Some remembrance common to them both appeared to be a terrible souvenir to Ihem, and in a different degree. To Blockey it was a living terror. Do you know mo yet?" demanded Passion, " You do not choose to reply, no matter; write me down the name I require, and your address, you will see me before long." In the meantime, as the conflict was over, most of the assembly had resumed their places, and perhaps thought nothing more of the matter, but there were several keen pairs of eyes bent upon Passion's hand; and by more than one was his assassination determined upon, because to attack him was evidently a risk, arising from the strength and daring he had shewn, and to kill him at once was the best way to secure the booty. Gaffin had noticed this also, but he was upon " honour;" he was a protector. " I say sir," he whispered, " Some of these handy lads are eyeing your fawney, I think we'd better mizzle." " Iam of your opinion," replied Passion, " but I cannot depart just at this moment, this good man," indicating Bloekev, " is going to comply with a request of mine; and now, sir, I am waiting for the card," this latter was sternly addressed to the man who was so much under the influence of terror. Blockey had written upon the card what was required of him, and he now, but with eviden: reluctance, handed it to Passion, who, having read it over, nodded his approbation, and in a moment after the man and his companion, Nobbley Jem, had departed. It now remained for Passion and his guide to follow the example set them, and for that purpose Passion had buttoned up his coat, and taken his hat, when casting his eyes around he observed the gaze of several fixed upon him with a glare of most equivocal meaning in their wolfish orbs. In an instant he comprehended its meaning, and with a smile of the most contemptuous defiance be turned the brilliant ring on his hand full to their sight, as if to defy their combined attack. Gaffin observing this, muttered, " Curse me, if this young blood don't want to lick the lot round, or else to have his libs scoured with a knife. " Keep back there, will you," he growled out to one or two, who were pressing in upon Passion. " Keep back and be d d! I say Blowfire, Squizzly just come close in will you, I guess we shall have to cut and run, for these fellows mean no good," and his companions hearing this, instar tly formed a body guard round the youth, and were barely in time, for a sudden rush was made by half a dozen ruffians at once; but at a word from Passion each of his friends liad floored his man, and the confusion and noise became frightful, horrible. " Fasten the door up!" shouted some voices from other parts ofthe room; but Passion, with a bound had got to it, when the bulkv form, ofthe hideous landlord was seen at the portal. " Now my covies, vot's the row?" asked this amiable being. " It means that these rascals are attempting to rob me, replied Passion, " but just let me have clear room, and the best of them ma.' get what he can." " Then here goes," shouted out a ferocious looking fellow, the handle of whose huge clasp knife was sticking osten- taitously out of his breast. " Then here goes also," shouted Passion as he dashed a pewter measure till it was flattened on his face, and^ je robber fell with a groan on the floor. " That's your sort, keep it up," exclaimed Gaffin," I never see a lovelier lijrk than this," and he together with Blowfire and Squizzly were striking right and left about them. - " Douse the glim!" cred one who had just been sent under the table, and was working his way beneath the benches to waylay Passion in the dark lobby, a kick from the heel of Gaffiu's boot, however, disturbed the suavity of his countenance, and split his lip half- way down the jaw. But at his cry, instantly every light was out, and all were in total darkness. Passion, who had grasped the arm of the host, merely whispered in his ear, " Open the door, or you shall hang, you dog, on the highest gallows in London, I don't feci any inclination to be slaughtered in this glory hole of yours," and seconded by his three allies, ' the lobby was attained, an i in a few minutes after, the street. The deadened sound of riot and revel still came through the walls, but as they walked in silence and with rapidity for a few minutes, they were soon out of the sound, and free from danger. When, therefore, the Abbey broke full upon hin as they turned from Dean Street, the young man felt in all its force, the extent of the danger from which he had escaped. Calling Gaffin aside, he gave him a piece of gold to divide among tlie others, and whispering an address in his ear, and bidding him call on a particular evening, he bade them good morning, and they separated. CHAPTER IX. MARONE. We return to Marone after this slight episode. The regency of Phillip of Orleans in France ( uncle to Louis XV.) introduced a new epoch of civilization into the world. We are naming this, not to dwell upon it, but to draw conclusions; our history belongs to 1840 and upwards, • to the present day, and not to 1645, the era of Louis the XIV. or of 1660 odd, the era of Charles II. We say that a new- epoch of civilization opened upon the world in all its fearful perfection, under the regency of Phillip of Orleans. It was under the protection of great and august name?; that the grossest licentiousness became modest and fashion- able. Mesdames Mnintenon, La Valliere, Montespau, and others on the one hand, allied with the Due de Richelieu on the other, shamed modesty, made religion a vulgarity, laughed at the moral obligations of society, and shewed to men how their wives and daughters might be made service- able to them at court; for who cared to rival a Montmorency, a Bayard, or a St. Louis, when the path of Cytherea was strewed with roses, and the libertine, garlanded over his full cups, with the arts of painting, poetry, and music at his feet, would traverse the grim old war path, or follow Rosseau into his sublime aberrati > iis; besides, the brilliant wit of Voltaire did that for the theatrical licentiousness of the Regency, which the orations of Massillon and Bossuet could not undo. Vice became universal. In France, her worshipper was called a gaiUard, apreux- chevalier. In England, a libertine; in our time a scamp, scampishness, libertinism, gaillardisanr are hereditary, and we propagate our vices with our children. In 1811, George, afterwards the Fourth, Was made Prince Regent of England, and if the Regency of Phillip of Orleans surpassed it in refinement, wit, and taste; it could scarcely equal it in drunkenness, debauchery, or court intrigue. Had he who led this, ' detestable band of moral peace- breakers, held a perpetual banquet like that of Trimalcion, where the drunkards were only removed when utterly helpless, in order to make room for others, the terrible orgies could not have been carried to a greater extent. In these two Regencies, we have to remark how much an artificial state of manners could hide the diabolical nature of their lives. The" fifst gentleman in Europe," who is dropping an offered guinea to a sweeper at a crossing, and picking it up to offer it with his hat in his hand, and courtly apology on his lips, could seafrcly be recognized as the libertine wliose insatiable appetite spared none, whose cruelty to his mistresses was only equalled by that of Louis, and whose utter heartlessness was only- equalled by Tiberius, and who also in Lord Castlereagh found his Sejanns. The moralist may also, whilst tracing a similarity in their lives and fates, also 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE discern the finger of that retribution, which for ever follows the steps of the most elegant vice. This age, previously moulded as far as the logic of evil went, by the names and writings of Bolingbroke, Shaftesbury, and Lord Chesterfield, may well be likened to a wliited sepulchre, fair, elegant, even beautiful to the view, but full of rottenness, corruption, aud dead men's bones within; is therefore known for its patches, cosmetics, frivolitcs, masquerades, perukes, bag- wigs, swords, and in other words complete scampishness. It was an age of insincerity, of un- belief, of unbridled profligacy, of unparalleled intemperance, and some of that age, that is, of the llegency, live yet. In presenting to the reader a fair specimen of the last generation now fast dying away, we beg to assure him that it is neither a caricature, nor an exaggeration; perhaps the outline is kept between both extremes, as the fairest way, but it is one, at all events, drawn from an authentic source. Lord George Yere de Yere, the younger son of a haughty patrician of the last century, had been thrown upon the world in the midst of rather favorable circumstances. His allowance was ample, and his expenditure trebled it. His college life was gay, frivolous, and fruitless. A companion of the prince, though some ten or twelve years his junior, he, witb a strong, robust constitution, a head impervious to wine, courage, strength, health, and animal spirits, became one of the prince's principal companions and confidential friend. He had afterwards served with Sir Arthur Wellesley in the Peninsular Campaign, beginning from the landing in Lisbon in 1809, at the time of Soult's retreat into Gallicia; and the military outrages concluding with the storming of Badajoz, had not contributed much to mitigate the licentious- ness of his morals. He returned to England on the death of his brother, the Duke of Corinth, to whom was left the care and guardianship of his two children, but on his arrival the children had suddenly disappeared, no tidings could be had of them, and to make this episode short, nearly five years had elapsed ere the boy was found, and restored at tlie age of thirteen, but the girl was still missing. Portions of this mysterious life are connected with our history, and will be explained as we proceed. ( To be continued in our next.) LETTER- BAG. To the Editor of Paul Pry. SIB,— I have perused the ably- written letter inserted in your last, signed by my " dear love" Miss Ellen, with great carefulness, and find nothing in the least to obliterate from my mind the opinions which I at first sight formed, that it was written by that fellow mentioned in the last few words, " Angel Hodges," and that the signature of my " Ladye Faire " was abominably forged, with the intent, no doubt, if possible to make me " jealous." But Dear Sir, I place too much confidence in my " intended" to hold a place in my cranium for that " Green- eyed Monster;" for many and many a time has she exclaimed, as she did after my bidding her read the letter in question:—" I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." I cannot concludejwithout recapitulating some ofthe crude remarks which are there expressed. First,— That I have had many " excellent opportunities " of uttering the " eventful word," but have never done so. I can only say things have not arrived at such a pitch as to require me to do so. But that is no business of other persons. Secondly, — When I leave at night, all I do is to give " a few kisses." I think it is the duty of all lovers, when parting late at night, after discoursing and debating on the beauties and excellence of such superb articles as— The " Nuptial Couch," Dress- circles of our Theatres," & c., to exchange a few love- kindling kisses; such as I am in the habit of giving. It is certainly true, that she presented me with a copy of your excellent description ofthe " Nuptial Conch," but it is false to say, that it did not inspire a " longing desire to enjoy the like bliss." Trusting then, Sir, that having plenty of tin, and my dear papa offering to " decorate onr house njost superbly," we shall speedily be " united." I remain Yours faithfully, J. BLTOWN, THE " SLOP- SHOP" AND " CLOTHES- MART" ARTROCITES. To the Editor of Paul Pry. SIB,— I wish to call your attention to an abuse whieh exists among men to a frightful extent, and in which the only and sole victims are the poor— as indeed they are the j victims for all things else. ! We have once or twice before hinted at this atrocious and deliberate evil, and as there is too much profit derivable, for the overseers and proprietors of these shops to give up their detestable traffic, all that you can do, is to point out to your readers the only means left of checking its growth. If you can shew them the inhuman rascality of the system carried on at the sacrifice of human lives even— if you can induce them to forbear purchasing at these execrable dens, and thereby encourage the poor, honest, hard- working trader, you will do a service to the public at large, of which I am sure they will be grateful. It is a temptation for a poor working man, who requires an article of clothing, to purchase it, when he sees the garment marked at a rate which he supposes to be extraordinarily cheap, but which, let him take my word for it— any money given, purchases it at far too dear a rate. He purchases, at an inferior price, an article utterly valueless, both as regards quality and intrinsic worth. The profits reaped by these monsters is almost incredible, and the wages they pay for labour is still more incredible; and it is upon this ground chiefly, I lay my hope, that these wretches shall not be allowed to fatten upon the blood of men, and increase their dishonest profits at the cost of their workmen; cheap goods bring down the price of labour, and by consequence there is for the worker starvation or the workhouse! Every hard- working man who encourages these wretches, does an injury to some poor human brother, who is obliged lo make a coat for fourteen pence.' Think of that ! And let a coat sell for ten shillings, or for three pounds, the price paid for making is in the majority of cases the same. The cloth made for this class of traders, is one of the filthiest combinations of gum, floss, dirt, and hot- pressing, that can possibly be made; and here again the price of the manu- facturer compels him iu turn to grind down his miserable men to the lowest mark that human nature can possibly sustain. I conjure your readers in the name of humanity not to en- courage these detestable leeches. It is the only legitimate way in which they can be compelled to give a " fair day's wage for a fair day's work." Of all the inhuman practices cariied on, by one class of capitalists against the poor, none can be more vile, wicked, and reprehensible than this. I shall recur to this again at the first opportunity. Yours respectfully, Asr. PAUL IN THE PLAYHOUSE. THE PRINCESS'S. Herr Karl Formes has brilliantly sustained the reputation lie has so speedily acquired, by the embodiment of Bertrand in Robert le Diable. His powers of vocalization, severely as they were tasked, proved themselves more than capable of an effort still more gigantic. The opera is decidedly Meyerbeer's greatest creation, and is perhaps one of the wildest and grandest— blending the sublime and the terrible together— we have ever seen. The character of Bertram is that of a semi- demon, the only thing that makes him human is— fear. The manner in which Formes acted, deserves the highest commendation. His eyes, his lips, his very gait and style, and the bitter grin of hate and baffled rage, all betrayed the consummate artist. The third act is horrible as well as terrible. The vivid flame that issues from the cavern, the dismal chorus of the spirits— the change to the dead stillness of the church- yard, the sinking of the tombs, and the rising of the sheeted spectres, who like the wilis go through their mystic dance, the fascinating cup, the dice, which risk the soul of Robert, the fatal kiss, the seizing of the branch— all these conspire to render as complete and perfect a picture as the imagina- tion could possibly desire; and the descent into the regions of fire, left a thrill of horror upon the mind. We also noticed a most reprehensible piece of carelessness. Herr'Formes, while Walking across the stage had nearly met with a most serious accident, by the opening ef a trap before the proper time. He had barely the opportunity of saving himself, and might have been injured for life. Such inattention is as disgraceful, as it is dangerous. STRAND. The " entirely new and original" drama ol Punch in Italy, proves to be an old acquaintance in a new form. M. Couderc was seen to some advantage at St. James's in a vaudeville called Punchinello. Leigh Murray plays the hero of the story with good spirit and much bustling vivacity. Thereisa good deal of amusing intricacy in the piece, which was announced for repetition by " Mr. Murray amid great applause. BIRMINGHAM. Mr, Macready made his bow to the audience here, in the character of Macbeth. His reception was enthusiastic in the extreme. THINGS THAT MAKE US LAUGH IN POOLE. Miss E. P— y, prancing about the town in search of a husband. Sleepy Jemmy W— ks, Lagland- street, being under petticoat government. Poor Jemmy, how does it relish? SCANDALOUS OUTRAGE. We have had to call the attention of our readers, on one or two occasions, where outrages of one class or other have been committed, either physically or mentally; and under the above heading is detailed, in the Dispatch the trial and sentence of a dirty scoundrel, who at the prompting of his gross and sensual nature was guilty of such acts of indecency as make him utterly unfit to exist in the midst of " civilized" people He is imprisoned for three months. Serve him right; but if we remember rightly, this same paper recom- mended a punishment for such ruffians which would do more towards eradicating this beastly propensity than anything we know. We need not write down in plain words what that punishment is. Our readers will comprehend it. THE BLACKWALL RAILWAY. The Blackwall Railway rejoices in the possession of the most scandalously inconvenient carriages that disgrace any of the metropolitan stations. They are more like boxes to carry cattle in, than accomodations for human beings. They are dirty, have no seats iu them, and are not inviting in any one respect; and if one is rash enough to make any remark or observation regarding them, the officials endeavour to blend insolence with wit, as far as their obfuscated capacities will permit of it. A band playing waltzes on Sunday after- noon in front of the river, is somewhat like an innovation upon our English ideas of keeping the Sabbath. Surely, this is matter enough for a meeting at Exeter Hall. The first, however, is an intolerable grievance. PATRICIANS AND PREACHERS. Ye sticklers nice, who oft discuss The wickedness of public- house. And groan and grumble at the poor, Who knock so hard at Satan's door, And diligently seek admittance, By buying gin with hard- earned pittance; Leave off seduction and old port; The good uphold, the poor support. ABSENS. CORRESPONDENCE. %,* Every letter for the future, containing advice, must be ac- companied by six postage stamps. F. F. ( Kemp town, Brighton.)— By enclosing the notice ad- dressed to the editor, accompanied with six postage stamps, and let your notice have some tendency to do good, and avoid all libellous words, or it will not be inserted at any price. B. C. ( Lambeth).— We would not insert your communication for a thousand pounds; it's a base, cowardly attack on private character; and a good horsewhipping would be too lenient a punishment for such a despicable wretch. We have destroyed your letter; but should you ever again insult us with " such rubbish, look out for a severe flagellation. A NOVICE.— We have heard of the circumstance through another medium, with this addition, that the young " gent" mentioned is actually located in the neighbourhood, for the purpose of watching the proceedings of his adorable (?) " donna," and the big- wliiskered captain. We will not fail to pay the parties a visit, by- and- by. SARAH JANE, ( Newcastle- on- Tyne).— You young rogue, your letter fell into Mrs. P.' s hands, and the consequence is, we are obliged ts summon all our philosophy to withstand the shock of her ( decidedly unjust) wrath. We have endea- voured to explain; but, says she, " what right has any ' young lady' to address you as ' my dear Paul,' and finish her precious epistle with ' your affectionate well- wisher'?" And why not, we should like to know? Write again. WILL WATCH, ( Bristol).— Drop us a line, with the name and address of the party. He deserves a public exposure; but perhaps a hint may have the desired effect. J C( Colchester).— Have nothing to do with the concern; " evil communications," you know, " corrupt good manners." Take our friendly advice. TO OUR SUBSCRIBERS. This is to give NOTICE, that on the Anniversary of this our august Journal— that is, when it shall have reached its Fifty- second Number— we intend to present to every Subscriber who shall produce his or her last Twenty- six Numbers, a Magnificent Picture of " HER MAJESTY'S FAMILY CIRCLE," taken from Wlnterhalter's Painting of the same, and now in possession of Her Most Gracious Majesty. The superb plate shall be worth at least, in the Trade, ONE GUINEA ! ! ! YOU MAY BE CURED YET- HOLLOWAY'S OINTMENT. CUBE OF RHEUMATISM AND RHEUMATIC GOUT.— Extract of a Letter from Mr. Thomas Brunton, Landlord ofthe Waterloo Tavern. Coatham, Yorkshire, late ofthe Life Guards, dated September28th, 1848. To PROFESSOB HOLIOWAY.— SIS,— For a long time I was a Martyr to Rheumatism and Rheumatio Gout, and for ten weeks previous to using your medicines, I was so bad as not to be able to walk. I had tried doctoring and medloines of every kind, but ail to no avail, indeed I daily got worse, and felt that I must shortly die. From see- ing your remedies advertised in the paper I take in, I thought I would give them a trial. I did so. I rubbed the Ointment in as directed, and kept cabbage leaves to the part thickly spread with it and took the Pills night and morning. In three weeks I was enabled to walk abont for an hour or two in the day with a stick, and in seven weeks I could go any where without one. I am now, by the blessing of God and your medicines, quite well, and have been attending to my business for more than seven months, without any symptoms of the return of my old complaint. Besides my case of Rheumatic Gout, I have lately had proof that your Pills and Ointment will heal any old wound or ulcer, as amarried woman, living near me, had had a bad leg for four years, which no one could cure, and I gave her some of your Pills and Ointment, which soundly 1—' -, 4- —' '' ' - '- " information ] years in the = a Corporal. I was two years in the Peninsula War, and was the Battle of Waterloo. I was discharged with a pension on the 2nd September, 1833. The Commanding Officer at the time, was Colonel Lygon, who is now a General. I belonged to the troop of Captain the Honourable Henry Baring. ( Signed) THOMAS BRUNTOK. CUBE OF A BAD LEO OF TWENTY ONE YEABS' STANDING.— Ex- tract of a Letter from Mr. Andrew Brack, Blacksmith, Eyemouth negr Berwick, dated the loth of August, 1848. To PBOFESSOE HOLLOWAY.— SIR,— With pleasure and gratitude I have to inform you that after suffering for twenty- one years with a bad leg, which yielded to no kind of treatment, although I consulted, at different times, every medical man of eminence in thi-; part of the Country, but all to no purpose. I was frequently unable to work: and the pain and agony I often endured no one can tell. My leg is now as sound as ever it was in my life by means of your Pills and Ointment, which I purchased from Mr. I. Davidson, Druggist, Ber- wick- upon- Tweed, who knows my case well, and will, I am sure, be happy to certify with me, if necessary, as to thetruth of this wonder- ful cure. ( Signed) ANDREW BRACK. AMPUTATION OF TWO TOES PREVENTED.— Extract of a Letter from Mr. Oliver Smith Jenkins, dated Falkirk, August, 13th, 1848. To PROFESSOB HOLLOWAY.— SIB,— I was superintending about six months ago, the erection of one of our Railway Bridges, and by the fall of a large stone my right foot was seriously bruised, which ulti- mately got so bad, that I was advised to go to Edinburgh to consult some of the eminent Surgeons, which I did, and was told that in order to save my foot, two of my toes must be taken off. In despair, I returned home to impart the melancholy news to my wile, intending to submit to the operation, it was then a thought struck me to try your valuable Ointment and Pills, whieh I did, and was by their means in three weeks enabled to resume my usual occupation, and at this time my toes are perfectly cured. ( Signed) OLIVER SMITH JENKINS. AN EXTRAORDINARY CURE OF A DESPERATE SKIN DISEASE. — On the 21st- July, the Editor ofthe " MOfussilite" Newspaper published in India, Inserted the following Editorial article in his paper. " We know for a fact, that Holloway's Pills and Ointment act in a most wonderful manner upon the constitution, as an eccentric Coolie, called Eliza, employed in our Establishment, was affected with myriads of Ringworms, which defied all the Meerut Doctors, and promised to devour the poor man bef.> re he was underground; we tried " Holloway" upon him, and in a month he was perfectly re- stored to his former condition and cleanliness of skin. The effect was miraculous." The Pills should be used conjointly with the Ointment in most of the following cases: — Had Legs— Bad Breasts— Burns— Bunions— BiteofMoschetoesandSand- flies— Coco- Bay— Chiego- foot— Chilblains — Chapped- hands— Corns ( Soft)— Cancers— Contracted and Stiff- joints- Elephantiasis— Fistulas— Gout— Glandular Swellings - Lum- bago— Piles— Rheumatism— Scalds— Sore Nipples— Sore throats- Skin- diseases — Scurvy— Sore- heads— Tumours— Ulcers— Wounds— Yaws. Sold by the Proprietor, 244, Strand, ( near Temple Bar,) London ad by all respectable Vendors of Patent Medicines throughout the civilized World, in Pots and Boxes, Is. lid., 2s. 9d., 4s. Gd., lis., 22s., and 33s. each. There is a very considerable saving by taking the larger sizes. N. B.— Directions for the guidance of Patients are affixed to each Pot and Box. EXTRAORDINARY SUCCESS OP THE NEW REMEDY. — UPWARDS OF 17,000 CURES WITHOUT A SINGLE FAILURE. TjR. WALTER DE BOOS, l. Ely- place, Holborn- hill, London U earnestly invites every one suffering from those dangerous dls eases arising from Solitary Habits, Excesses, and Infection in a their stages and varieties, whieh from improper treatment so frequently end in Skin Eruptions, Gravel, Inflammation of Kidneys. Pains in the Back and Loins, Stone in the Bladder, and ultimately DEATH !— to avail themselves without delay ofhis important dis eoveries, by which he is now enabled to treat with the utmost cer tainty of cure every stage and variety of this calamitous class of dis eases. It is a distressing fact that Secondary Symptoms, which is a species of lingering DEATH, are too frequently the result of the old method of treatment; but, thanks to science, he is now, after 22 years of study and experience, in possession of a remedy by which he guarantees a perfect and lasting cure. This fact lias already been manifested in upwards of 17,000 cases ; and as a stronger as- surance he undertakes to cure, without hindranefe to business, the most inveterate case in con the MOMEY. All those d invited. Country patients v as that will render a personal visit unnecessary.— Advice, with medicines, ft. Patients corresponded with till cured. Hours, 10 till 1, and 4 till 8 ; Sundays, 10 till 1.— Post Office Orders payable to Walter de Roos, M. D., 1, ELY- PLACE, HOLBORX- HILL, LONDON. Read Dr. de Roos' Celebrated Work. Just published, 64th Thousand, 144 pages, Illustrated with numerous Coloured Engravings, in a sealed envelope, from the Author, in English or French, 2s., or free by post for 32 Stamps. THE MEDICAL ADVISER. An Essay on the Obligations ot Marriage; the Treatment and Cure of all those Secret Disorders arising from early Excesses and Infections, with plain directions for the removal of every disqualification. " This work is indeed a boon to the public, as it has the two- fold advantage of plainness and being written by a duly qualified man who evidently understands his subject."— DaUy Times. The following are our appointed Agents:— London: W. COLE, Bedford- street, Oxford- street, Mile End — Deptford: F. L. LYONS, 8, Broadway.— Greenwich : H. HILL, 9, Market- place.— Bristol: COOK, Sims- place.— Manchester: HYI WOOD, Oldliam- street.— Leeds : A. MANN.— Glasgow: W. LOVE, Nelson- street.— Derby: BROOKES, St. Alkmumfs- churchyard.— Leicester: BILLSON, Bellgrave- gate.— Beverley: WARD, Butcher- row.— Banbury: BDNTON, Cherwell- street.- Sheffield: ROOEBS, Fruit- market.— Brighton: TOUBLE. 57, Edward- street.— Newcastle- en- Tyne: KRANCE & Co., 8, Side.— Bradford, Yorkshire: W. COOKE, Vicar- lane. Printed and Published by the Proprietor, G. JOHUSTO^ E, 12, Rues « ll court, Brydgea- street, Strand,
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