NEW Hv SERIES. PAUL M PRY " IT IS A VIRTUOUS ACTION TO EXPOSE VICIOUS MEN."— DRYDBN. No. 40.— NEW SERIES.] WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 8, 1849. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. THE GLOBE, NEW CUT, LAMBETH. GREAT as is the number of ihfernal dens which we have from time tq time exposed in the columns of this journal, there remain many yet to be dragged from their holes and corners, from their dark hiding- places, and laid before our readers in their true colours. Vicc, in any shape, is abhorrent, wherever committed. Then, liow much more so, are the nurseries of this vice? There arc numbers and numbers, in this great metropolis, of places of resort for mere children, girls and boys, varying from ten to fourteen years of age, where tlicy undergo a regular initiation into the mysteries of scientifically picking pockets, and cheered on in their vicious courscs by the lewd jests and talcs of success in the pilfering art, told by some of the more experienced bands. Oh! it is enough to make the blood run cold, the hair to stand on end with horror, to wit- ness an assemblage of youths of both sexes, of the class just mentioned: the horrid oaths— the blasphemous language— the taunting remarks, if one poor wretch should happen to have a compunctious feeling steal over him or her,— the apparent loss of all sense of shame, and the disgusting liber- ties indulged in, has often made us shudder whilst viewing it, determined in our own mind to do all that in us lies, towards exterminating these dens of infamy, ar. d holding up to scorn the proprietors. Coffee- houses have increased in London most wonderfully within the last few years, and more especially those of a lower grade; so much so, that you can scarcely go through a popular neighbourhood without seeing two or three of them. Many of them have established free concerts in a long room, where the juveniles of this modern Babylon are entertained with the tinkling of an old worn- out piano, and the bawling of a cracked voice which nightly appears for the enormous sum of otie shilling and its drink free. Now, for our part, we cannot conceive why coffee- houses should not be subject to tho same laws tlltt govern taverns and public houses; why the police of the metropolis should not be instructed to take notice, they being licensed, of course, and report to the magistrate of the district, that a stop might be put to the nuisance; but while they remain free, • and run no risk of their business being suspended, so long will they be careless of the frequenters, and all hours of the night, with doors wide open, will they invite the prostitute and the thief to enter where they can concoct, unmolested, their next piece of villany. li' Many of these places, to our knowledge, are in the habit on a Saturday evening, ere the public house is compelled to ( lose its doors, of purchasing spirits wholesale, aud retailing it again to their frequenters at a price by no means profitless; and to sucli an extent is this practice carried on, that we could name upwards of twenty in one locality, Where may be had spirits in any quantity on Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning. Can anybody be foolish enough to say that 3uch a state of things is not known to any of the autho- rities? If they were to tell us so wc should flatly deny it; and say, that there's scarcely a policeman on the beat but knows the truth of our assertion. Ought such places be allowed to exist? Ought these dens of thieves, for we can call them nothing else, be irresponsible, whilst at tho same time the publican, a neighbour, perhaps, pays an enormous sum for his license, and is bound under severe restrictions to keep his house orderly, and close his door at 12 o'clock on Saturday night? The place we have selected for our first notice, is perhaps, one of the worst of its class. Here, almost every night, is to be met with, boys of from 12 to 18 years of age— of rather ques- tionable a stamp, playing at cards, dominoes, bagatelle, & c. The last time of our visiting this den, the room up- stairs was completely crowded, and gaming to an enormous extent was being carried on; the landlord sitting in the midst taking a certain amount for every game played, and in exchange, presenting the winner with a ticket for a certain amount of refreshment. He is a bull- headed sort of indi- vidual, and appears to understand liis business thoroughly.* Here, on a Saturday night, after the public houses in the neighbourhood are cleared, and the juvenile prigs have done their business, a fresh orgie commences. Prostitutes andtheir silly dupes regale themselves with chop or steak, just as the fancy leads, and from thence to some notorious den, where the poor victim generally gets robbed of all he possesses, and may think himself lucky if he is allowed to take his clothes. Surely such places as these ought to be narrowly watched by the police; in fact, in our opinion, such dens ought to be entirely swept away. We call upon the police to do their duty, and put a stop to the nightly assembling of youths, who are led from bad to worse, until' transportation or somewhat else becomes their portion, and in our next visit to the den, if we find no alteration, we shall take upon ourselves to speak in somewhat stronger terms of the neglect of the proper authorities. * The up- stairs roym contains. two bagatelle boards, which are placed near the window, whilst the portion of the place near the door is devoted to the card player. The. business in the coffee room below, appears to commence about 12 o'clock at night, which is invariably crowded, THE FRAIL SISTERHOOD. P1VOINE. CHAP. XII. MONSIEUR AND MADAME CARCAN. ( Continuation.) What fortuitious concurrence of circumstances had brought about this most improbable connection? This is what we might no doubt ask, but the couple do not play in this recital a sufficiently important role for us to think ourselves au- thorised to dwell long on the subject. At any rate, though married under the regulations of the community, they did not live together, but were at the head of different establishments of very different kinds. We already know the profession of Pamela, Armodius Carcan kept, near the Barrier des Amandiers, one of the low class of eating houses, rejoicing in a very un- favourable celebrity. He never visited his wife except when he wanted money. On these occasions, besides the resources of his persuasive eloquence, he very willingly employed the arguments of Vigourous, and thus opened for himself, not without a contest, tho purse of the brokeress, Endowed with a most complete collection of every sort of vice, thief, gambler, drunkard, and lustful, Armodius affected an extreme good nature.' Physically and morally, such was the man. He left the shop as we have observed, and followed the young girl. Scarcely had she advanced a hundred paces, and turned the angle of a street, when he insensibly approached her and finished by accosting her, touching her shoulder. Pivoinc started, and turned round. But she recognized him who, a few moments before, iiad taken up her defence and her pallid lips attempted a smile. " Well, my pretty little Normande," said the dwarf, com- mencing the conversation in a very cavalier style, " I hope you think me entitled to a handsome recompense?" " Ah! Sir," replied the young girl, " liow I thank you." " And you have reason to, for, without me, my Jezebel of a wife would have taken you to the Commissaire's, where you must have shown your papers, which is very annovina ' You have papers; eK?" « What papers, Sir?" COFFEE HOUSES IN LONDON. PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. 204 " Faith! why a passport, a sort of little hook." " Why, no, Sir, I have nothing of the kind— I did not know." " Tis a bad job, my little kitten— a bad job! tho police will be sore to grab you." " The police!'' exclaimed Pivoinc, who, without completely understanding the meaning of the words, was, however, in- stinctively alarmed at it. " Alas, yes. Oh! you would got quit for three mouths in prison, and afterwards you would be conducted to your home by the gendarmerie." " My God! is it possible?" murmured the young girl. I believe you, ' tis possible! Have vou a'family, my poor jewel?" '• I have my father, Sir," stammered Pivoine. '• It will be exceedingly pleasant' to Monsieur your father, to sec you arrive in this maimer, and accompanic l by a brigadier! and ' lis inevitable," " Why then— I am— ruined^— completely ruined." " Faith! I don't very well see what you can do to avoid this inconvenience; whenever they may exact from you these cursed papers— which you do not possess— unless—" " Unless?"— eagerly demanded the young girl. Unless you meet on your road an hohost man, who will kindly run the risk of drawing upon himself some unlucky affair, and Who will take you with him— without security— at his own risk and peril." " But who will do that, my God?" " I would willingly offer myself, for you interest me, poor wanderer." " You?" " Yes, but—" " But what, Sir?" " I keep a restaurant, much frequented by the fashionable world, you see. With me the work is rough, and you have so delicate a look." " () h! I am strong, believe me, stronger than I appear." " I shall give you 110 wages— at the commencement— but you will be well fed, and treated with respect. Well, will vou try it?" " Yes, Sir, with all ray heart." " Then ' tis an affair concluded. So give us a shake, my turtle dove." And M. Carcan presented to Pivoine his black and greasy hand, in which she placed her delicate Angel's. " Take my arm," added the restaurateur," and lot us walk fast, for ' tis some way." The young girl accepted the arm Which Armodius ten- dered her, and both continued their walk, to the great amazement of the passers, who frequently turned round to have a second stare at the strange assemblage of this ravish- ing girl and the hideous dwarf. CHAPTER XIII. AH MODI [ IS. The establishment, designated by Armodius Carcan under the ostentations pseudonym of restaurant, was one of those inferior wine shops or public houses which grow up in the neighbourhoods of certain barriers of Paris. The saloons consisted of one vast piece, on the ground floor of the house, which, moreover, had but one storey. In this obscure and untidy room, two dozen small tables were arranged in two rows. At the bottom opened the door of the culinary laboratory, a fetid den, where they were incessantly occupied in preparing suspicious fricasccs and meat of a very doubtful character. The habitues were numerous, but not very choice. Tlicy were recruited, in the first place, from amongst that popu- lation of pretended workmen, idle debauchees and gaol birds. Next came, and these were the aristocracy of the place, those men without a name, who monopolise every abject profession, and are by turns dealers in theatrical chccks, carriage- door openers, link- boys, & c. &<? M. Carcan had under his orders a scullery- girl, and a female servant, a robust Flamande) who was servant of all work. The motives that had induced him to hire, or rather decoy, Pivoine, were as follow :— 1. His new servant would cost him nothing. • 2. She would contribute, by her pretty face, to multiply the number of his customers. 3. Armodius Carcan, lustful as a satyr, wished to make of the young girl the cheap instrument of his degrading pleasures, and reckoned upon having to combat on her part but a very feeble resistance. Pivoinc was, therefore, immediately installed and initiated into the functions she would have to perform. She was to receive the portions or dinners in the kitchen, from the hands of M. Carcan, or from those of the fat servant- girl, and, according to the indications of the master of the establishment, distribute them to the guests. We cannot describe what the poor girl had to endure from the first moment of her arrival in this kennel. She was not a virgin, we know, but she was pure. Let us imagine what must have been the impression pro- duced 011 her by the abominable cynism of the frequenters of the house. Her ears were cohstanly horrified by the most revolting obscenities, the most offensively- detailed descrip- tions of turpitude and vice, whose name, or even existence, she had not hitherto so much as dreamt of. And frequently the consumers, full of wine, and excited to gaiety by what they termed jolly speeches, did not confine themselves to words, and the unhappy Pivoine had to defend herself against disgusting caresses and tho coarsest insults. This is not all. The moment arrived when M. Carcan resolved to bring to a happy conclusion the project he had formed, and, in terms which it would be impossible for us to repeat— though our pen makes no profession of prudery— he communicated to Pivoine what he expected from her. Though repulsed with disgust and terror, he did not look upon himself as beaten, and every day, almost every hour, he renewed his importunities. Nothing corrupts like misfortune. Poor Pivoine soon began to regret bitterly that she had not yielded herself to the strident, Virgil, the first night of her arrival at Paris. She thought of quitting the house of M. Cnrcan. But where go? What was she to do? What would become of her? And as, after all, she had in this house an asylum and bread, she did not leave. The desires of the dwarf, however, increased by reason of the difficulty he found in satisfying them. One fine night he determined to make a finish of it. Pivoine slept in an alcove contrived at the extremity of the kitchen. The fat servant and the scullery- girl shared a truckle- bed in the loft. Towards midnight, at a moment when the young girl was plunged in her first sleep, she was suddenly awoke by a strange and painful sensation. At first she thought herself under the influence of the night- mare, but presently any doubt on the subject was no longer possible. A man had glided into her bed. She uttered a cry, and made a movement to jump out of bed. Two nervous arms Coiled themselves round her body, and a voice, which she recognized as that of her master, said to her softly:— " Hold yonr tongue, little one, and be quiet; you shall not repent it." Pivoine's fright increased at the time same as her horror; she redoubled iu efforts to disengage herself, but she soon felt that her efforts were powerless, and she began uttering piercing cries, which M. Carcari vainly endeavoured to stifle. At this moment; the flight patrol traversed the exterior boulevard. Pivoine's crics were heard, and the but- ends of some muskets knocked violently against the door of the gucnguette. Mr. Carcan released the young girl; but, before opening, he said to her in a threatening voice:— " If you make any complaint against me, I will have you arrested! Remember that you have 110 papers!" The officer of the patrol visited the house, and found nothing suspicious. Pivotftt, when questioned, declared, hesitatingly, that she had been alarmed without cause, and that she had cried out without any reason for it. The patrol resumed its march, and the remainder of the night passed off without bringing any new incident Tho next morning M. Carcan called Pivoinc. She has tened, with trembling, and her eyes cast down. She ex- pected some scene of brutality, or at least of violent re- proaches. There was nothing of the sort. Pamela's husband meroly said to her in a brief tone.— " I discharge you." " YeS, Sir," faltered the young girl. " You will leave to- morrow." " Yes, Sir." " I will give you a certificate and ten francs, although it was agreed between us that you should have no wages." " You are very good." " I am too much so! As for to- day, you are still in my service, and I will send you presently on an errand." " Yes, Sir." " For the rest," added M. Carcan, " reflect, Pivoine, there is still time— I will keep you if you like to stop, with fifteen francs a month, which makes a hundred and eighty francs a year, pretty fair; but you know on what condition. Well, docs this suit you?" The young girl understood, and with her head made a sign of refusal. " As you like 1" said the dwarf with a grin, " as you like! you will rogret more than once what I have just offered you, but that's your business, do as you like." And M. Cal'can turned his back to her, whilst his look assumed an expression of sinister satisfaction, and a malig- nant smile lurked on his deformed lips. About mid- day, he ordered his scullion to fetch a cab from the station of the Barrier des Amandiers; when the vehicle had arrived before the door, he again called Pivoine, and said to her:—• " I apprised you this morning that you would have to go out upon an errand?" " Yes, Sir." " It is time to go. The cab is here, waiting for you.' " Where must I go?" " I will tell the driver." " Yes, Sir." " It is cold, take Cadette's cloak." Cadelle was the fat servant. Pivoine obeyed. " Here is a letter," continued M. Carcan, " you will deliver it at its address; you will have something to bring back, and you will return immediately." " Yes, Sir." " Before you go, swallow this glass of wine, it will keep the cold out of your stomaqh. If you arc turned away to morrow, that is 110 reason why you should fall ill to- day." Whilst speaking, he presented to the young girl a glass filled with red wine, which was there as if by chance. Pivoine raised the glass to her lips, and swallowed two moutlifulls of its contents. She then replaced it on tho table with evident disgust. " What's the matter then?" enquired M. Carcan. " Is the wine bad?" " It seems so to me, Sir." " Pooh! ' tis merely your fancy! a splendid little champagne." " Perhaps I am mistaken." " There can't be the least doubt— you will see what good ' twill do you." And the sinister smile, of which we spoke just now, again rose to the lips of the dWarf, who added, " C0111S, ell route." Pivoine enterered the cab. M. Carcan cricd to the driver, " Bercy, Quai dc la ltapee, No.—." The cab departed, aud Pamela's husband gaily rubbed his hands. THE QUEEN IN IRELAND. POOR PADDY is in hysterics: her Most Gracious MAJESTY has deigned to soil her magnificent shoe with the bog- land of the sister island. 0! happy PADDY! who, from the misery and dirt, can crawl from your hovel, and bless the name of Royalty. And why should they not be glad? Is it not enough to make the heart leap for joy, and the senses to whirl with ccstacies, to see diamonds and satin in the midst of rags and starvation? oil! ye beautiful hills of ERIN, spread forth your daintiest verdure ye lovely and fruitful trees, blossom in your brightest green; and ye all glorious flowers, scent tho air with your most refulgent perfume, and in your brightest colours outvie the most dazzling gems; ye murmuring rills, sing out your joyous song of welcome; ye roaring cataracts, and fast- run- ning streams, out- rival the merry pealing bells in your hymn of praise; and nature, great Irish nature, clothe your- self anew, and with your heaven- clad garments give welcome to your QUEEN! And, oh! ye bog- trotters, out with ye from your wretched cabins, and with stentorian lungs shout for your sovereign lady; and ye, poor miserable wives and children, who have scarce a thing to cover ye, lend your tiny voices to swell the general shout of joy! What a glorious sight to see— a young and beauteous QUEEN, in all the majesty of might, condescending to pay a visit to a long- neglected and pestilence- stricken land, and, by her magic presence, cause the plains to flow with milk and honey, and bring content and happiness where it has so long been needed! But will she do it? That's the question. Has Royalty set foot in Ireland to see with its own eyes the misery existing, and then apply the antidote? Will the QUEEN, for one moment, make inquiries into the causes of the almost depopulation of our fruitful sister, and thus, like a skilful surgeon, cut out the gangrene and cankerizing wound ? We fear not. Will her courtiers lend her to those dreadful scenes where her subjects are dying with want? No. Those sights are not fit for Royalty's eye: they but pall upon the sense and mar all pleasure. What, then, is the nature of this visit? What is the benefit that is likely to accrue to Ireland through this enormous expenditure of the public money? We can- not for the very lives of us imagine. We would be the last persons iu the world to wish to curb the pleasures of her Most Gracious MAJESTY and her royal husband, but we certainly do think if one- half of the money this trip will cost the country, was applied to the starving millions of her hardly used sister, it would cause more hearts to rejoice than all the gilded pageantry attendant on regal processions; and the blessings that would be poured on the head of VICTORIA for thus drying up the sorrowful tears of the unhappy mothers and children of ERIN, would be in the " rale ould style " of Irish heartfelt gratitude. PAUL IN THE PLAYHOUSE. A SPECIMEN OF MODERN BLANK VERSE. From " Greaves's Quisquilliw." I once beheld a very ancient man Eating hog's puddings at his cottage door; His galligaskins were of corduroy, And waistcoat he had none. His tattered coat A lonely button fastened o'er his breast. Seamed was his face with scars; and on his head, Close shorn by time, he wore a woollen cap— A small, red nightcap, of a reverend age. Grey were his little eyes; and his sharp teeth, Though dark of hue, and straggling in array, Were nimble in their motion. As I passed, His long hog's puddings vanished, one by one. A dog was near him, 011 whose shaggy hide He wiped his greasy fingers; and methought A wondrous mortal was this ancient man. I asked of him his history; and he Did, with a stern and altered countenance, Look steadily upon me, and reply— " What's that to you?" ADAM PRY THE YOUNGER. Just arrived, and to be seen alive, in a bacon- shop, in H igh- street, Poole, a full grown laughing hyena, exhibiting an enormous row of rotten teeth. Oh! Yes! just arrived, H—' s two- legged, strayed calves, not much improved by their journey. BRIDPORT. We, the undersigned, do hereby give notice, that Madame Hall's Penny Hops will be rc- opened on the first Thursday in Septomber, owing to the sad disappointment that took place in Down Hall, on Thursday last:— Agent in advance Mr. G. Majyr Leader of the band Mr. H. Matthis Clown Mr. C. Majyr who will keep the company in continual laughter. Ad mission one penny.— Gentlemen pay for tho ladies. NEW STRAND. Hearts ore Trumps is the name of a new piece produced at this little theatre, and was received by an indulgent audience in good spirit; the plot of the piece is novel, and the inci- dents arc well- woven together. Mr. AV. Fan- en, a blackleg, is the hero, and the father of a lovely girl passing by the name of Mary Gray ( Mrs. Stirling), who is committed to the care of a schoolmistress in the country ( Mrs. Bartlett), whose house tho father visits under the assumed name of Gray. He is dotingly fond of liis child, and she, ill return, thinks him the best of men. His real name is Ruby, and he pre- tends to be a commercial traveller; but lie lives with one Goad, a scampish attorney, who is capable of doing any dirty work, provided it does not endanger his liberty. There is another sharper in the plot, a Captain AVagstaff, ( Mr. Leigh Murray), who has by some means discovered Mary Gray, and wishes to possess her. He proposes to Ruby, who turns away in disgust at the thought of giving his child to a confirmed gambler. The captain, nothing daunted, obtains admission into the schoolmistress's house as a dancing master, when he proposes, but is repulsed. She, however, in tho mean time, has seen a Mr. AVilmott, ( Mr. Forrester), and lias fallen desperately in love with him. Charles manages to obtain a letter from Mary to her father. The dancing master returns, makes another declaration, and is again rejected, whereupon he declares that ho is a captain, which has no effect upon tho feelings of Mary; when he, in revenge, tells her that her father's name is not Gray, but Ruby, the gambler, cheat, & c. She does not believe it, but is determined upon proceeding to London; and persuades Mrs. Miller, tho schoolmistress, to accompany her. At old Goad's, a party is made up, and a " plant" laid, and Charles Wilinott is to be the pigeon. Mary and her companion ar- rive in town, and present themselves at Goad's residence, making inquiries for Mr. Gray. They are told he does not reside there. She, however, manages to get into the house by the means of the servant ( Miss Phillips), who is in love, of course, with Joe ( Compton), her fellow- servant. They promise to gain her a private view of old Ruby. The card- party assembles, and Charles, who is half intoxicated, is regularly plucked. The old man, who is looking on, finds on the floor a letter addressed to liim by his daughter, which Goad had dropped accidentally, and he discovers he is helping to beggar the man who has declared for his own child. He takes the place of the captain and loses to Charles, which causes angry words between him and tho Captain. A scuffle ensues, Mary enters while her father is in the act of strangling AVagstaff. The truth at once flashes to the mind of both father and child. Her affection triumphs over all other feelings, and she promises to save him. Charles admires her for her conduct, and is made happy in the prospect of a speedy union. The captain fancies it would be far harder to go back than forward, and is determined to pursue his old course. Joe is married to Susan, and " Hearts are Trumps." Mrs. Sterling, as Mary Gray, was all that could be desired. She threw into the character her whole energy, and drew many tears from her auditory. Mr. AV. Farren's acting was good, but lie was almost unintelligible in many parts. It's almost time this great actor left the stage, or what he lias been will be forgotten in what he is. Mr. Leigh Murray appeared to think the part beneath him: wo thought the eontrjtm Mr. AV. Forrester, a scion of the Farrcns, is a young mi » n, and may in time become a useful actor. Mr. Compton, without doubt, is one of our greatest low comedians, and let the part be ever so small, he makes it stand out a feature of the piece in which he is engaged. We fancy Hearts arc Trumps will he no bad card for the management. PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. 205 PAUL ADVISES \ y. H— s, of Berners- street, Oxford- street, not 100 miles from'a pianoforte- maker's, not to think so much of his con- ceited Do'xey as he calls her. Keep your eyes open, Billy, all is not gold that glitters. •\ y. B— e, of Essex- street, Strand, not to be seen walking through Hyde Park late of a night, with a girl hanging on his arm. J. L—, of Russcll- court, not to be so fond of going to Vauxhall Gardens with a penny cigar in his mouth. L— s, of Shelton- court, Chandos- street, to think more of her young man II. C. and leave off dancing in the court. Joe C— k, alias Bottle- Nose, of the Richmond Company, to keep a civil tongue in his head, and not fight all the little boys who come near him. The sly old fox of Tipity- square, Islington, to pay every attention to his own wife, and never attempt to take married women away from their husbands. D. H— t, of Russell- court, not to flash about in somebody's left- off ducks of a Sunday. Mrs. L— y, of Eentou- street, Commercial- road, not to trouble herself about her neighbours' bu; iness, nor to talk so much about her landlord. •\ V. W— S) the smart young milkman, near Lambeth- church, not to go to a certain kitchen in Belvedere- road, courting the cook, or his mistress may find him out. Mr. G— n, of Lcather- Ianc, to attend to his domestic duties, and not be seen in the William the Fourth so much. W. G— 1, of Caroline- place, Islington, not to use vulgar language to a female at the beer- shop not far from his resi- dence. Miss L— d, of the Duchess of Kent beer shop, Caroline- place, Islington, not to flirt with young men in the parlour. 1 W. N—, of Drury- lane, not to boast so much about his boat. How about the ducking? The young woman in the green frock, at the Coffee House, Church- court, Strand, not to stand at the door making re- marks on people who pass, but use the tooth- brush a little more. Pat M— y, the self- thought handsome '. lawyer's clerk, of Walsingham- place, Lambeth, not to be so conceited, nor to boast of driving four- in- hand. Don't make yourself such a laughing- stock. R. C— s, of Earl- street, Kensington, to treat his wife well, not to fight with his son, to mind his own business, and frequent the Princess Victoria somewhat less. Lady Gordon, the housekeeper at Kensington Palace, at a salary of £ 1000 per annum, drawn from the pockcts of the industrious public, not to send a man- servant into the High- street to purchase the cheapest articles that- can be ob- tained, no matter the quality. Such conduct would reflect little credit on one related to royalty, albeit, in a left- handed manner. F. S— r, of High- street, Kensington, to be sure and give good weight, and be more thankful to his customers for their support. Had it not been for their patronage, you would never have been able to build villas. Mr. W— e, of Raven- row, Spitalfields, to attend to his own business, and leave off meddling with that of other people's. W. N—, alias Madman, of Arundel- stairs, not to be so flash in boasting of his swimming and rowing. R. L— g, of Albert- street, Shadwcll, not to Come home at 4 o'clock in the morning, disturbing all the house. Miss M—•, at the cheesemonger's, Tooley- street, to remem- ber no followers are allowed. How about the snip? W. D— n, of Thames- street, not to be seen with so many girls. J. S— d, of East- street, Walworth, not to trouble his neighbours with his affairs, and be a little more liberal with his wages on Saturday, C. A— 1, of Lisson- Grove, to stop at home with his Hebrew wife, and assist in selling the old clothes, and never to go home drunk at 5 o'clock in the morning. C. F—, of Wych- street not to imagine he can row; it's all my eye, Charley. Mrs. II— s, the milkman's wife, of Manor- place, Hagger stone- bridge, to be more circumspect in her behaviour to her husband, and not to sir him so overmuch. That bouncing, scaley fellow, T. G— n, of Mare- street- walk, Hackney, to pay his share like his mates for the gas- light in the office, aud not shuffle out of it, and to attend to his duty more, and less to the fishmonger's widow. T. D— y, to get another lawyer's- clcrk's place, and assist his poor mother, instead of flirting about with Miss H— n, the baker's daughter, not 100 miles from Basin- place, Kings- land- road. W. P— e, timekeeper of the twopenny oninibusses at Camden- town, to look more after his employer's interest, to take less time to his meals, likewise not to be fond of re- porting, or he may get reported. J. S— s, of Ratcliff'e, not to trouble himself with other people's business. How about the dog and the poor woman in Wapping? W. F— d, of the Icather- cuttor's in the Blackfriar's- road, not to visit the Old King's Head so often, and imagine the landlord's niece is in love with him. W. B— t, the seal- cngraver, not to be so fond of fighting dogs, and trying to throw his cap behind the bar of the Old King's Head. H. E— s, the " worthy" who calls himself the practical man at the marquee- maker' 3, Old Kent- road, not to be so fond of finding out the widows in and about his locality, and telling tliem he is a single man. Alcey A— s, of Lower Grove- street, Commercial- road, not to be so churlish to her poor old husband, Sammy; we arp sure he does no harm to any one. J. II— 11, of Union- row, Wilhnott- strect, Bethnal- green, to attend more to his own affairs, and less to a certain house in Betlinal- grcen- road. Mr. P— s, of Saffron- hill, vendor of red herrings, not to turn tho lappels of his coat back to show his brass chain. Mr. G— n, of Park- street, Camden Town, to be more civil to his customers. G. B— r, of Park - street, Camden Town, to shave off his mustachlos, and his brother to leave off scraping on that old cracked violin. Mr. I3— k, of Park- street, to leave off smoking his pipe in front of his shop. People notice it, Greasy. W. E— s, of Highgate, to leave off playing at skittles so much, it would be more to his credit. L. G— m, alias Leopard, of Highgate, not to fancy all the girls fall desperately in love with him at first sight. J. P— e, alias Rodney, of Highgate, not to boast so much of his pugilistic powers. The parrotty steel- polisher of. Mary- street, Kingsland- road, to stop at home, and not run after the girls. W. B— 11, of Old Jewry Chambers, never to swear, and not to spend his small salary in dancing, or we'll certainly stir him up with our umbrella again. Mr. F— d, hatter, of Church- street, Milc- end- road, to keep away from the young ladies till the smell of fried fish has entirely left him. Use Eau- de- Cologne, Billy. E. G. jun., Regent's- place, Westminster, not to be seen drunk early in the morning, and to eschew the company of the ladies in the Strand. H. P— e, of the Two Brewers, Knightsbridge, not to be so fond of talking to the girls over the counter, as we think it would be better for him to attend to his master's business. J. D., the would- be block- maker of Wade- strcet, Poplar, not to do shipwright work, but to try and master his own. Look after the cupboard love at Dalston. H. H— 11, of Wellington- street, Goswell- strcet, to leave off going to Highbury Bam on the Sunday after service. F. M— d, of Globe- road, not to be seen so often at the Globe on a Sunday with that little girl, Pamela D— s, of Globe- road, Mile- end. Young M— g, alias the Slasher, to attend more to a certain young lady ot Dcvonshire- terrace, and not to be seen at so many fights, as Paul considers it anything but respectable. T. O—- n, barman, of Charlton- street, Somers- town, to be more attentive to the customers using the house, and less irritable in temper. Mrs. W— r, of Samuel- street, Limehouso- fields, not to be seen gossiping in the chandler's shop, but to stay at home and mend her stockings. E. R— y, of Water- lane, Strand, not to be seen so often walking about Baldwin's- gardcns: you would be much better at home with your father and mother. PROVINCIAL. KENT.— Mr. C. M— s, of Sydenham, not to have so many boys about the gate so late at night, to wit— the grocer's boy and the " Spanish Fly." C. R— e, the broken- down broker, of Greenwich, to look after some situation, instead of living upon his nephews and nieces. The next time he takes any rash and foolish step against his life to manage it a little better than when he jumped into the pond at Deptford. How about the poor woman and the pieces. Don't you think it was a noble action, my boy? G. G— m, the painter's labourer, of Dartford, not to go swelling about with a certain servant girl, as it looks bad in a married man; and we recommend the girl to guard against such a Tiny. E. R— s, barmaid of the Jolly Waggoners, Dartford, not to flirt with married men, such conduct is anything but be- coming. DORSETSHIRE.— The great man at theBerlin wool- shop, High- street, Poole, not to read newspapers at church, as it does not look well of a nasty tradesman. That bumpus barber, B— h, of Poole, not to think so much of himself when strutting up the street on his way to shave the old men and women at Poole Union. Vanity Jack A— y, of Longfleet, to hire a donkey the next time he wishes to take his sister out for a ride, as we think I he would be better able to manage it than a horse; and mind, J Jack, you don't jump out of the gig again, if the ass should ! happen to be restive. The Committee of the Poole and Bournemouth Regatta not to allow that celebrated wash- tub belonging to B— e, Esq., to race, or it will assuredly carry off the prize. The hostler chap at the New Antelope, Poole, not to take so much nasty " swipes " on a Saturday night, as it makes him go to sleep on Sundays at church, and annoys the whole congregation by his snores. E. R— g's the tax- gatherer's daughter, of West- street, Poole, not to imagine all the young men are dying in love with her. Be less vain, Miss Ellen, and then you may get a sweetheart. The barmaid at the Inn, in East- street, Bridport, not to demean herself by encouraging the attention of H. G—, the boy at the brewery. Mr. J. J— s, tailor, of North- street, Wareliam, not to wear a washed gold chain while cutting out, as it looks foppish. J. H— t, the druggist's apprentice, in South- street, Ware- ham, not to visit the next house so often; you are too young to think of Miss W— s yet. Mrs. J— s, to attend to the education of her pupils, and not meet a cei tain widower at his garden gate. T. B— n to extend his politeness a little, and take Miss Julia B— d for a ride with him. S. F— s, not to make sure of the little sailor boy. She had better bind a few more boots and shoes ere she thinks of getting married. J. A— d, of Poole, to keep a little closer to Miss W., and not disturb people by knocking at their doors, and upsetting their rain- water butts. Take care, or we will tell the people of St. Clement's. That mosaic jeweller's hoy, T. L— y, of Poole, not to use bad language when in the High- street, llow about the key holes and the water Jim threw over you? Don't break your heart for a sweetheart. Paul will recommend you one if you behave yourself. Miss E. P—, the hay- merchant's daughter, of Poole, not to prance about the street thinking she can gain the affec- tions of every young man. The gold won't do it. The post- offlcc " gal" of Poole, to have nothing more to say to tho printer's boy, as Paul has been informed he never intends to make her his own. although he might have danced w ith her at the wool club. Jemima, at Miss S— g's, of Wimborne, not to be standing at the street- door so late of an evening, with two or three " sparks "— Paul sees the move! Ned E— s, at Wimborne, not to make himself so busy about Miss M—, when he knows she won't encourage his winks. NEWCASTLE- UPON- TYNE— The cooks and house- maids, of Eldon- street, to keep their weather- eyes open, or that young miller who walks over two sticks will drop on them. How about the young girl in black, Jim? II. W— d, of Elswick- terrace, not to allow Mr. S—, of Pilgrim- street, to take liberties with her, or she will repent it. Ann, of Pilgrim- street, sister of the above, if she wants to get married, to advertise for a husband, and not per- ambulate the Moor Edge on Sunday night in search of one, bccause all the " Moor Edgcrs" know she is not very young. W. D— y, of the Sandhill, not to swear at the poor unfor- tunates as they pass his door. T. A— r, of the Spital- tongues, the fancy blacksmith, not to intrude upon certain young ladies in Gateshead, as his company is anything but agreeable. How about the affair of honor at Tyncmouth? J. P— r, the little flour- dealer, in Blackett- street, to stick closer to Miss P., and not get muzzey at the New Market Hotel. Reform, Jim, or we will tell Miss P— some of your naughty tricks. That old- fashioned youth, W. P— n, merchant's clerk, Quayside, not to cut such a swagger, but to pay Mr. R— that old account for getting his hair curled. BERKSHIRE.— II. E— s, teetotaller, of Hosier- street, Reading, to look more to his work, and not so much to the election business. J. D— s, of Reading, when he is returning home from Bedford- street, at night, not to stop at the baker's in tho same street, or the young woman in Castle- street may hear of it, A certain housemaid, at a gallant General's, not more than four miles from Windsor Bridge, on the Bucks side, to take the beam from her own eye, before she attempts to see the mote in that of her fellow- servant's; and also to keep a still tongue in her head. NORTH SHIELDS.— Mr. R—, painter, C— hLane, to go and feed his pigs, and take his learned donkey to the dyke- side, ore he attempts to cut a swell on Sunday, and tries to ruin a certain lady of Stephenson- street. Mr. S— e, joiner, of Linskell- street, to mind his own business, and let the Misses F. alone, as they think ho is beneath them. R. D— y, of Clive- street, not to imagine he cuts a swell on a Sunday with his white waistcoat. SOUTH SHIELDS.— W. H—, the little grocer of King street, not to cut it so fat, with his white coat and hand- me- down trousers. Miss L—, of Green- terrace, not to encourage the two small tailor's boys to quarrel about her. J. O—, the little bow- legged boat builder, not to make game of people behind their backs. Miss R—, not be seen with the tinkers. BRIGHTON.— J. S— r, of Little Wood- street, to mend his ways, sack his black coat, and made it up with the little servant, before we expose you further. Don't forget your debts. HANWORTIL— Mr. James J— s, to pay more attention to the girl at No. 25, than to the one at No. 16. FELTHAM.— Carroty Poll, of the Queen's Arms, to take care of her father's till, and never spend money in gin. Jim Crowe, of the jumping- school, to attend to his own business. PAUL WISHES TO KNOW Whether a certain nigger, who is now in the employ of Messrs. L— d and Co., Friday- street, has anything to do with the girl he picked up from his frequent " visits at the Casino?— or whether he has given her the cut? If so, we shall certainly take a trip to Greenwich, and will make a point of telling his ma. Paul feels glad to think that some girl has taken notice of the almost discarded black; and with pleasure does Paul see him ( the nigger) draw out his halfpence to pay for brandy- balls, & c., when at the favourite Casino. Whether T. H— s, twopenny omnibus proprietor, Camden Town, finds himself any richer since he has run his omni- buses on Sundays? He should recollect that his men require rest. Rather hard for men to pay seven shillings a week to keep their master's horses and omnibuses clean? Query— would it be proper to deduct a part of a servant's wages, to keep the house clean? Whether A— I H— s had not better have spent those few pounds in some good cause, than to have fooled them away in law against that poor unfortunate young man, C— n? Why Dr. M— r, of Poole, has given up all thought of the baker's daughter, West- street? Whether Dr. G— d can't believe his own eyes, but must wear an old rubbishing pair of quizzing glasses of some old humbugging Jew, in exchange for an old coat which he did not wish to part with, it being one of his old grandfather's; but not havi g any ready cash by him. and thinking he would make a mistake in his woman some night, had no alternative but to part with his heirloom. Whether the President of the Mutual Improvement So- ciety, Bridport, is an Englishman or a foreigner? If an Englishman, he had better learn his own language before he undertakes to teach French to others. Where the Rev. W. H. B— n, of Egham, has learnt thfe August Puseyisticnl display, so as to require three gents in pure white to perform the communion service of Sunday mornings? Why C— s S— h, alias Nanny- goat Plainer, of the G. S. N. C. Works, Deptford, pries so much after other men's work. If it is information he wants, let him apply for it decently, and not be sneaking for it as he does. We hope we will see no more of it. PAUL AMONGST THE PUBLICANS. " BUNGS, HAVE AT YE ALL." " THE KING'S HEAD," KNIGHTSBRIDGE. This place is truly one of the abominations which so plen- tifully abound in this degraded district. It is a singing house, now fallen into a " free and easy," since the magis- trates very properly stopped dancing and singing in the taverns not licensed for these amusements. These dancing cribs had become a crying nuisance— thither many a young and ( till then) innocent girl was lured, who got leave to sec her parents for a few hours; she was taken by her " friend " to one of these sinks of vice instead, where the excitement of liquor was added to that of the dance. Unconscious of the time, she stays far beyond the hour fixed for her return, between fear of her mistress's anger, semi intoxication, and the persuasion of her companoin, she falls a prey to the se- ducer. Eternal infamy should be the fate of those who can plot and carry out such vile plans; the agony which seducers often undergo in their last hours proves the truth of the saying " virtue is its own reward, and vice its own punish- ment." The " free and easy " is under the management of Mr. H. Taylor, who formerly conducted the concert here, the room wherein it comes off Is dirty and inconvenient; tho singing barely tolerable, the liquors are very indifferent; and the waiters are anything but civil— in this they follow the example of their master, than whom we never knew a greater bear. The Coffee Room is nicely fitted up, but as 5d. a pot for porter is charged ( 4d. being the usual price in this part), few civilians are to be met with, non- commissioned officers are the chief frequenters of the room. To see the den in its glory, look in at one o'clock in the morning— the doorkeeper, a rough and " no two ways about it," will admit you if you have a shilling to spend. At that hour, the tap- room behind, is crowded by the scum and dregs of society— soldiers, cab- men, thieves, skittle- sharps, bullies, prostitutes of the most abandoned character. Extortion is now the order of the day ( qy., night?); extra charges are made for all articles; and why, forsooth? because the proprietor keeps open his house after hours, for the resort of the most dangerous class of men and women. This he calls accommodating the public. If you are a stranger, put up with the landlord's incivility, or you will quickly be qjected in a manner the reverse of tender. Houses like these, constitute one of the moral plagues of the age we live in, no less hurtful and injurious to the public who suffer from them, than disgraceful to the authorities by whom they have so long been permitted to exist. 4 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. 4 LETTER- BAG. To CHARLES HIND LEY Esq., M. P. ii Sin,—" How much I honour you!" you, of all men, are de- serving of the nation's thanks for your noble, philanthropic exertions in the cause of the working classes. How much do 1 envy you your thonghts, as you lay your head upon your pillow at night, and exclaim! " Thank God, I am not as other men are." You must feel that inward satisfaction un- explainable to those evil- minded persons, who are apt to think the working- man requires a little recreation after toiling for six whole days— after the perspiration has poured unceasingly down his brow— on the seventh. Impious wretches! how dare they imagine the working man- requires recreation! Man] needs his; labour six days, and on the seventh, God requires his prayers; and if he cannot pray, then he must be driven to a building, and listen to a man praying for liim. Why should, we would like to know, a poor man breathe the pure breath of heaven? Why should he, on the only day in the week he can do so, wander into the fields, and look on nature's beauties, and in his unsophisticated nature offer up that inward prayer more acceptable in the eyes of God, than the pharasaical offerings of most of the ministers and clergy of this pious little island ? Why should he allow the bright and glorious sun to kiss his pale cheek, and impart a ruddy and a healthful tinge? Why should his eye be de- lighted once a- week with the playful gambols of his children, and his heart be gladdened on seeing his sickly helpmate rejoicc? Why?— ah! why, indeed? Oh! Sir, you did your best to save their souls— you did your utmost, in your splendid effusion called the " Sabbath Bill," to put a stop to all this profane and wicked enjoyment of the working classes, one and all of whom, should go down upon their knees, and bless your philanthropic mind. You never trade on a Sunday, of course not. Why should you? You don't have to wait for hours on a Saturday night, ere you receive your hard- earned wages?— not you Somebody earns your money for you, and you can go at any- time, and at any hour, and draw just what you please. What's that to the working man? What business is it of his to interfere with you? None in the least: it would be a marvellous piece of presumption if he dared to do so, and no man more than yourself, we doubt not, would cry out, and loudly too, at such impudence. But then, they are ignorant very; they know not what is good for them, and, therefore, it's a Christian part to place them in the right path, and if they are at all cantankerous, why then, they must have the kicking strap applied; and, however reluctantly, be com- pelled to go quietly in harness. Bless you, Sir, for your great, noble, and disinterested motives. The religious world, of which you arc a shining light, must be greatly indebted to you: their prayers must be daily offered up for your preservation and long life, with the hope that you may persevere, and at length overcome all obstacles, and that even a more stringent act than that of your " Sabbath Trading Bill," may become the law of the land, and be the means of curtailing the poor man's privilege of a ride by steam boat, railway, or omnibus, whilst you can snugly ensconce yourself in a soft- cushioned carriage, and your coachman drive you, the rich man, whethersoever you may please to direct him. What a great blessing it must be to become what the world calls a godly man. You, of course, have never wished to break the Sabbath by healthful recreation, not you— why should you? You have always had the fear of God in your eyes, and in your more youthful days, never mixed in the frivolities of this " Vanity Fair,"— not you. You can place your hand upon your heart, and say, I am free from all this. Oh! what a thing it is to be a religious man, and to be able to lay that flattering unction to your soul, that you are capable of directing, and also forcing, poor wretches who have no care for their immortal welfare, in the right path,— that you have the will, at any rate, to do so. Sir, the very next time you take tbe chair at a religious meeting, we would impress upon you the necessity of] getting up, and from your place denouncing the whole majority of the ungodly members of the Commons' House of Parliament, as renegrades to their religion, and imps of the Evil One. You manfully fought the good fight, and when at length you found yourself worsted, you gave a growl, and then sunk into peaceful insignificance. Hoping you may never be deprived of those enjoyments you apparently wish todeprive the hard- working mechanic of, I remain, yours, PAUL PRY. To PAUL PRY, Esq. Glasgow, 28tli July, 1849. MY DEAR UNCLE,— Following up last week's subject, ( which, by the way, I hope you were pleased with), I will give you some more of the Ayr news. For its size, I think it has got a greater number of abandoned women than any town in Scotland, and most of these, too, of an exceedingly degraded class. There are also numbers of gents about Ayr, and as a sample of them may be mentioned J. K—, who may be seen any day promenading Sandgate- street, with the knob of his stick in his mouth. A rummy incident has just occurred in connection with the little blackamoor ( mentioned in my last). A swell, called Bob C— d, had an eye to the mopusses, so he bribed the governess to give her a letter, full, as all love letters arc, of stuff. Miss, however, took it amiss, and showed it to her guardian. The governess was instantly sent about her business, the affair was " blown," aud Mr. Bob C— d is the laughing- stock of Ayr. Having exhausted my time, and I dare say your patience, I will now conclude, and remain Your vory affectionate nephew, ADAM PRY THE YOUNGER. THINGS THAT MAKES US LAUGH IN POOLE Tailor C— h's country- seat ( liovv the snips come out lately). Neighbour G— n actually enlarging his shop, on account of his roaring trade. Joe K— t's market tolls ( pay twopence for selling three- pennyworth of cabbages). G. M— e ( Longffcet), walking into the hall after the plate had been handed round for the silver, at Mr. Hayes' concert. G. B— it's white hat. S. J. S— t's Jppse collar, high slioefs, afld ghprt trou^ rs. Hannah A— y's ( of Parkstoue,) elegant manner of walking. J. W— d's bristly whiskers. Jack W— IPs monkey jacket and bamboo cane. Bill F— e's brown donkey hat. Davis's assistant's candle- looking hair. G. N— n saying his nails are worn out by counting money. Bull Beef J. II., sen.' s getting spiflicated. Miss T— r's affectation. The druggist's assistant's getting his wife to curl his hair Teddy M— e being secretary. J. D— s's white waistcoat. J. W— e, sail- maker, giving twopence the other night at the concert. Paul hopes he is not like the donkey, think- ing every sound, save his own bray, discord. Spectacle A— y's ungallant behaviour in jumping out of the gig when the horse ran away, and leaving his sister alone, and then to say he was thrown out. Tinker B— t's tub racing with F— s. How can he expect to beat, when such paunchy fellows as himself and R— k arc in her? Little H-— n's scratching certain parts so often. What is the matter with him? THINGS THAT MAKES US LAUGH IN WIMBORNE. Mr. " Sergeant" R—' s quizzing glasses, really looking so much like Paul himself. EPIGRAMS. Let the good man, for nuptial rites designed, Turn over every page of woman- kind; Mark every sense, and how the readings vary, And when he's read them through— then let him marry. If youth and beauty fade, my dear, Impart ' cm wisely while you may; If still they last, why should you fear To give what none can give away. I wish— nor ever wish you ill, I wish thee all thy heart's desire, Mary; if just, may time fulfil The wish that friendship doth inspire. I wish thee, dear! a sacred boon, Nay heaven solicits to bestow it, I wish thee married, girl, and soon But wish thou ne'er may wed a poet. As lamps burn silent with unconscious light. So modest ease in beauty shines most bright, Unaiming charms with edge resistless fall, And she who meant no mischief does it all. Thomas declares the world shall know That he's my most determined foe; I wish him wide the trade to spread, For all that I from Thomas dread, Is, that the knave, to serve some end, May one say that he's my friend. WORKS RECEIVED. " A Lecture on Pride." By Leigh Murray, formerly of the Edinburgh Theatro. " The Jolly Sailor Boy." Being a Narrative of a Few Years' Cruise among the Petticoat Islands, by H. Rignold, R. N. " Deductions from Nothing, with Philosophic Reasonings on the same Subject." By T. Higgie, Comedian. " The Whole Hart of Hacting." Second Edition. By N. T. Hicks, Tragedian. " Management run Mad." A Farce. By II. Farrcn, Esq. " The Last and Lapstone." A Satire. By Mr. Butler, of the Surrey Theatre. " The Gaff King." A Romance. By E. Edwards, Actor. " The Gagging Fiend." By Mister Wright; beautifully illustrated by Paul Bedford, Esq. " A Few Leaves from Webster's Red Book, wherein are depicted some most Amusing Games." By Madame Celeste. " A Portrait of D. W. Osbaldiston; from Nature." By Eliza Vincent, Heroine of Domesticity. CORRESPONDENCE. Every letter, for the future, containing advice, must be ac- companied by three postage stamps.— All letters for insertion in the current number must reach our office five days prior to the publication of our journal, or they cannot be inserted. We are happy to state, that the admired tale of " MARONE; OR THE WINE OP LOVE," will positively be resumed in our next number; the author having now ar- rived at convalescence. THE THEATRICAL PROGRAMME, OR ENTR'ACTE.— A num- ber of this publication has just been placed before us. It is a work of great merit, and should be in the hands of every playgoer. It contains bills of the performance at every theatre in London, with the cab fares from the various stands to every place of amusement and resort in the metropolis. It is very creditably got up, being stitched in a neat wrapper. It is published by Mr. Dipple, the enterprising publisher, of Holywell- street. AMERICAN FRIEND.— Please send the line you mention as left out, as all letters are destroyed after being copied, and if it was sent by some mistake it has been omitted. If your letters reach us on Friday it will be time enough. *** Our Wareham correspondent- is thanked for his kind- ness in our behalf. Boz ( Poole).— Shall be happy to hear from you. SPRING- HEELED JACK, ( Vartford).— Have you any diffi- culty in obtaining our journal in your locality? Send us the name of your bookseller. R., ( Wimborne).— In your case, no. Have the goodness to send the name of your bookseller who supplies you. Your reports are perfectly correct. RATTLER, ( Reading).— Can you send us anything laughable from your locality? Send us the name of your bookseller, if he is agreeable to become an agent for the sale of PAUL PRY in Reading. BENEDICT, ( North Shields).— Most decidedly. Every atten- tion shall be paid to them. ADAM PRY, THE YOUNGER.— We believe not. Several numbers are out of print with us. A CONSTANT SUBSCRIBER, ( Egham).— You will perceive we have omitted the last part of your communication. We could not publish it unless regularly authenticated. V A correspondent who has written to us in black lead is informed that we cannot make out his note. NED SLOBOY, ( South Shields).— If we received it, it has been inserted. G. R.— Your communication was inserted last week. ARLENDEN, ( Glasgow).— If we thought our worthy agent was in need of advice, we should not fail to give it him. J. R. W., ( Brixton).— Your notice was inserted in our last. When you buy your journal, refer to the number. To prevent mistakes for the future, we have placed the date on the front page. MARY JANE.— The advice we have given you, was for your good, and we are proud to receive your thanks for it. You wish to know how wc obtained the information. That, of course, on our part would be a breach of confi- dence. It should be sufficient for you, that we have been the meansof warning and saving youfrom a gulf that would ultimately have overwhelmed you in ruin. Your letter is only one out of a thousand we have received, thanking us for our timely hints. JONATHAN.— We do not mean to infer that the young lady mentioned in your letter, is in the habit of frequenting bad places; but we do know, that she is surrounded by worthless scamps, who boast of the many young females they have seduced. And, in advising her not to be guilty of such and such a thing, we do so that she may be aware of the danger into which she is running. If we were to pub- lish one half of the information we are possessed of we could almost set the whole of London by the ears. PIIILO- DRAMATICUS.— Miss Terry is married to Mr. Lewis, late of the Surrey Theatre. Miss JACOBS.— Mr. F. II. Henry, of the Victoria Theatre, is not married, we believe; and he, as you say, is possessed ol talent. Any little information you may be pleased to favour us with we shall be most happy to receive. A SUFFERER.— Mr. Dillon, we are very sorry to say, is not at all particular where he sends aspirants for the sock and buskin. You are not the only one, by many a score, he has served in a similar manner. JUSTICE.— We have not the slightest knowledge what has become of the person named in your letter. PIIILLIS.— Always glad to hear from the ladies. EMMA, ( Commercial- road).— Wc are sorry you have not completed the series as promised. Let us know where a letter will reach you. H. G. ( Hamwortli).— Write a little plainer, the greater portion of your letter is not understandable. PRIVATE, IMPORTANT, AND PRACTICAL HINTS on all SECRET DISEASES, Generative Weakness, and Nervous Debility, & c., with Flain Directions for Cure, price Sixpence, post- free Eightpence. liy F. WALTON, M. D.. M. K. C. 8., & c., who may be confidentially consulted ( without a fee) from s a. m., to ten p. m., daily, at his residence, No. ."> 5, Gt. Queen Street, Lincoln's- Inn- Fields. N. It.— Letters promptly attended to, and secresy observed. Established 1* 30. Gonorrhoea perfectly cured within a week. Medicine sent to all parts, sub rosa. TRY ERE YOU DESPAIR.- HOLLOWAY'S PILLS. CURE OF ASTHMA— Extract of a letter fron Mr. Benjamin JIackie a respectable Quaker, dated Creenagh, near Loughall, Ireland dated September 11th, 1848.— To Professor Holloway. Respected Friend: Thy excellent rills have effectually cured me of an Asthma which afflioted rac for three years to such mi extent, that I was obliged to walk my room at night for air, afraid of being suffocatcd if 1 went to bed by cough and phlegm. Besides taking the l'ills, I rubbed plenty of thy Ointment into my chest night and morning. ( Signed) BENJAMIN MACKIF. CURE OF TYPHUS FEVER, WHEN SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE POINT OF DEATH.— A respectable female in the neighbourhood of Loughall was attacked with Typhus Fever, and lay for five days without having tasted any description of food. She was given over by f lic Surgeon, and preparations were made for her demise. Mr. Benjamin Mackie, the Quaker, whose case is referred to above, heard of the circumstance, and knowing the immense benefit that he himself had derived from Holloway'sFills, recommended an immediate trial, and eight were given to her, and the same number were continued night and morning for three days, and in a very short time she was com- pletely cured. N. B.— From advice just received, it appears that Colonel Dear who is witli his Regiment in India, the ' 21st Fnsileers, cured iiimseli of a very bad attack of Fever by these celebrated Pills. There is no doubt that any Fever, however malignant, may be curcd by taking, night and morning, copious doses of this fine medicine. Tile patient should be induced to drink plentifully of warm linseed tea or ( barley water. CUKE or Dnorsv IN THF. CHEST.— Extract of a letter from M. S. Munday Esq., dated Kennington, near Oxford, December 2nd, 1818. — To PROFESSOR HOLLOW AY.— Sir,— My Shepherd ttor some time was afflicted with water on the chest, when 1 heard of it, 1 immediately advised him to try your Pills, which he did, and was perfectly cured, and is now as well as ever he was in his life. As I myself received so astonishing a cure last year from your Pills and Ointment, it lws ever since been my most earnest endeavour to make known their excellent qualities. ( Signed) J. s. MUNDAI. THE EARL OF ALDBOROUGH CURED OF A LIVER AND STOMACH COM- PLAINT.— Extract of a letter from his lordship, dated Villa Messina, Leghorn, 21st February, 1845.— To PROFESSOR HOLLOWAY.-- Sir,— Various circumstances prevented the possibility ofniy thanking you before this time tor your politeness in sending me your Fills as you did. I now take this opportunity of sending you an order for the amount, and at the same time, to add that your Pills have effected a cure of a disorder in my Liver and Stomach, which all the most eminent of the Faculty at home, and all over the Continent, had not been able to effect; nay, not even the waters of Carlsbad and Ma- rienbad. I wish to have another box and a pot of the Ointment, in case any of my family should ever require either. Your most obliged and obedient servant. ( Signed) ALDBOROUCII. CURE OF A DEBILITATED CONSTITUTION.— Mr. State, a Storekeeper of Gundagai, New South Wales, had been for some time in a most delicate state of health, his constitution was so dcbiliated that his death was shortly looked upon by himself and friends as certain; but as a lorlorn hope, lie was induced to try Holloway's Pills, which had an immediate and surprising letl'ect upon his system, MIM! the result was to restore him in a lew weeks to perfect, health and strength, to the surprise of all who knew him. He considered his case so extraordinary that he, in gratitude sent it for publication, to the Sydney Morning Herald, in which paper it appeared on the 2nd January, 1848. A few doses of the Fills will quickly rally ( he energies of both body and mind, when other medicines have failed. These celebrated Pills arc wonderfully efficacious in the following complaints. Ague Drospsy Inflammation Sore- throats Asthma Dysentery Janudice Stone and Gravel Bilious Com- Erysipelas Liver Complaints Secondary Syinp- plaints Female Irreg- Lumbago toms Blotches on ularities Piles Tic- Doulourcux the skin Fevers of all Rheumatism Tumors Bowel Com- kinds Retention of Ulcers plaints Fits Urine Vcneral Affec- Colics Gout Scrofula, or King's lion- Constipation Head- ache Evil Worms of all kinds of the Indigestion Debility Weakness from Bowels Consumption Scurvy whatever cause Sold at the Establishment of PROFESSOR HOLLOWAY, 244, Strand, ( near Temple Bar,) London, and by most all respectable Druggists^ and Dealers in Medicines throughout the civilized World, at the following prices:— Is. Ud., 2s. ! i( T, 4s. Gd., lis., 22s., 33s. each Box. There is a considerable saving by taking the larger sizes. N. B.— Directions for the guidance of Patients in every Disorder are atfxed to each Box. The following are our appointed Agents:— London: W. COLE, Bedford- street, Oxford- street, Jlile End.— Deptford: F. L. LYONS, 8, Broadway.— Greenwich: 11. HILL,\ Market- place.— Bristol: COOK, Sims- place.— Manchester: HTE' WOOD, Oldham- street.— Leeds: A. MANN.- Glasgow: VV. LOVE,' Nelson- street. Derby: BROOKES, St. Alknuincfs- churchyard - Leicester: BILLSON, Bellgrave- gate.— Beverley : WARD, Butcher - row.— Banbury : BUNTON, Cherwell- street. — Sheffield : ROGERS, Fruit- market.— Brighton : TOURLE, 57, Edward- street. - Newcastle- on- Tyne: FRANCE & Co., 8, Side— Bradford, Yorkshire: W. COOKE, Vicar- lane. Printed anrl Published by the Proprietor, G, J< jU^ rw7u7Uusse 11 court, Brjrdgcs- street, Strand. ,4V