NEW SERIES. PAUL M PRY 9 " IT IS A VIRTUOUS ACTION TO EXPOSE VICIOUS MEN." JUDGE AND JURY SOCIETIES. IT is a very fine thing to have an aptitude for indolence, and it is, unquestionably, far finer to have the mewis of enjoying it without putting hand to any work of any kintl. Some men are so happily constituted among this class of the idle and the useless that they can invent a way of life, a profes- sion distinct from all others, by which means, and while enjoy- ing those sensual luxuries they dwell amongst, which have become a portion of their habits, they derive profit and emo- lument, without the slightest outlay; in fact, let it be takeii as a rule, the less capital the better; but then the audacity must be upon a scale of colossal magnitude. It is all remarkably fine brain work this. Failing or want- ing in those legitimate means of existence by which honour- able men, he they of the poor or of the middle sort, win the esteem and the respect of their fellows, this class of idlers torture their brains and invent unique means to attract audi- ences and induce them to squander their money in a manner so lavishly criminal, that the mischief soon exaggerates itself, while an unhealthy craving afterthe prurient stimulus offered thc visitor is calculated to sap that manly gravity, to say no more, which is, or ought to be, the characteristic of every tolerably educated Englishman. The " food " dished up at such places as " Judge and Jury" Societies, cannot fail to deprave the palate in however healthy a state it may be. He who can go furthest in indecency or obscenity, is the individual whose qualities are most valuable as an attraction. The miserable pasquils of wit that are belched forth might insult common sense, were it not that it is in defiance of common sense men are absurd enough to congregate in those very questionable assemblies. It is one of those incomprehensible paradoxes, that you discover in a " promiscuous " meeting ( Mrs. P's very fond of this word, j she says there's a world of meaning in it) that while ribaldry which would bring a blush upon a man's cheek elsewhere— j while this, we say, is tolerated and laughed at— there are many, we are certain, who feel thomselves lowered in their ! own opinion, who feel self- abased— even insulted— by the disgraceful latitude of speech habitual to these assemblies. To make the " trial" piquant, to give it zestand relish, it must be highly spiced, it must abound in grossness, it must be unequivocal, broad, and essentially low. Whenthe" amuse- ment" ofa portion of the public consists in " 4os/ i" cfthis kind, the inference as regards their taste is not difficult to draw. Are the sources of intellectual pleasures so used up, so miserable, and so penurious, that nothing else can tempt thc habitutfs of these " Judge and Jury " Clubs? Is there nothing that will tempt them to step out of this muddy path, and in more legitimate resources unbend the mind, and refresh the j body after the fatigue of business or the toils of the ( lay? , I Glance, but only cursorily, upon those who compose this j audience. Without being invidious, without wantonly attacking indi- viduals with whom we have no quarrel, we have a right to pass an opinion upon things good or bad, which tend to raise or deprave the public morals. It is a lamentable truism that the taste for impurity is very— very general— that it is also pandered to in a thou- sand different ways. Vice never wants ministers and agents, and as it is now so cleverly reduced to a system, commencing with folly and ending in infamy, so should a man be the more upon his guard, if indeed he consider himself to be in pos- session of aught worth the caring for— as for instance— re- putation. The men, for the most part, are of that class denominated " Gents." Their language is a hybrid one, and betrays them at once; being a choice selection of slang, jumbled up with the most deplorable nonsense. Their style of dress is as sig- nificant as a sign- post. The hat will at once declare there is nothing in it. To rescue such, is almost beyond the bounds of possibility. To appeal to them is to waste time. They are profound in their obtusity. An intrigue with an equi- vocal woman has romance in it for them. Cremorne or Rosherville is the Aden of their imagination, the " Happy Land " they so often warble about. At these places it is an immense tribute to their greatness if the waiter condescends to know them. It is only the familiarity of magnanimous souls. After all, they injure none but themselves, and are more to be pitied for their miserable vanity, than despised for their littleness in the scale of humanity. There are women also to be seen— women who can talk " smut," drink punch or sherry- cobbler, and smoke a cigar alaLionesse; and that Amazon( wellknownJ is a specimen of the select sisterhood who frequent these establishments. When that mysterious query haunted the town for some time, of " Where's Eliza?" it was pithily replied to,—" She is among the ladies at the Garrick's Head." This is defining the nature of a " town " hotel with a vengeance. Is this then, the Eliza after all? There may be— there is— talent undoubtedly to be met with here, as there is every- where else— but of what kind ? Is it not perverted, lowered, and put to " base uses"? or is it talent in the negative degree? Every man must live by some means or other, but the miracles of those whose " wit" is their bank— whose dodges are their only resources— whose case is always lhat of desperation, yet always in a thriving state; we say that all these, if disclosed, would form one of the most startling revelations mad? for centuries— it would sur- I pass all the " state secrets " known or unknown, that are de- tailed or surmised in history. To look at the insane piece of fascination placed in the window, where a man must have immolated himself, in a lit of vertigo, after the gigantic effort to draw like Lawrence, and paint like Sir Joshua— to look at this, we say, with the por- traits of the peer and pugilist, from the hero of the Peninsn la, to the swarthy conqueror of the prize- ring, cheek- by- jowl, and every jorum full, one would be led to imagine that this was one of those splendid and " millenium " re- unions, which take place at times, once in ten centuries, and draw the dis- tant poles of society together. One would imagine that the " Lord Chief Baron " comprehended in his own person an epitome of Eschines and Blackstone— or, like Falstatf, that he was " not only witty in himself, but the cause of wit in others." Conscientiously, we have heard him speak, but never were in danger of apoplexy induced by laughter; in fact, it seemed to us a very mournful office, that of being obliged to " manufacture" fun, night after night, so that sometimes his gigantic intellect must be in a state of" collapse,"— where for the present we will leave him. MARONE; or, THE WINE OF LOVE. CHAPTER VIII. ( Continued from our last.) THE CONTEST. We must now return to the Almonry. A shout of gratulation rang through the chamber at this feat of Passion's, who heard their exultation over the prostrate combatant with a sublime indifference. In the mean time, Gaffin was preparing to defend Passion from further attack, when the youth, as if all his savage passions were fully roused, bade him stand aside, and Blockey, with a countenance rendered hideous and distorted with rage and shame, rose to his feet, and staggered up in front of his fearless adversary. The young man with his fresh healthy face— his fine silken hair— his elegant and slightly disarranged attire, attracted tho attention of the low scamps around him, for his prepos- sessing air, his youthfulness, but above all, his daring and dexterity had won upon them; nnd when Nobbley Jem made an attempt to collar the youth, half- a- dozen brawny hands clutched him by the collar, witli an execration' for fair play." " Stand back from him, and me too," howled the savage ruffian, hoarse with rage; ' I'll soon spoil his girl's face for PRICE ONE PENNY. JUSTICE TAVERN, BOW STREET. No. 34.— NEW SERIES.] 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE him," and he sprang towards Passion, but as instantly halted in front of him. For the youth, without retreating, or shrinking from the menaced attack, with an unclouded brow, and a firm eye, with his shoulders back, his chest partially covered with one arm, his left leg shortly forward, and the weight of his body on his right, which was prepared to give an impetus to his next blow; the whole attitude, in fact, was so graceful, scientific, and Cribbish, that astonishment almost took the place of rage in the bosom of the man. Was it possible, then, that this stripling was going to con- tend with a man whose thews and sinews were upon an her- culean proportion? was it to be credited that he was going to stand the brunt of that enormous fist, the knuckles of which were like iron? certainly it bore all the aspect of it. After sparring an instant at Passion, however, the man made a tremendous hit, but it was, by the agility of the youth, expended upon ( he empty air, and ere Blockey could recover from the shock this fruitless attempt had caused him, he received in return a blow from the left hand of Passion under the ear, which sent him reeling sideways against a box. The ragged vagabonds about, and the females in particular, vociferated their congratulations and cheers, and Gaffin, who only saw that no unfair attack should be made on the young paladin, felt scarcely any further alarm for him. The rage of the baffled man, however, was terrific; tbe veins on his temples and neck were swollen with passion, a purple flush overspread him; blindly rushing a second time upon his opponent, as if to crush him at one grasp, he was met by a shower of blows that blinded, and almost stunned him, and then, for a moment or two the combatants were separated. " Veil I'm d— d, if ever I see tbe likes of that," murmured Squizzley in a confidential tone, to the sturdy Blowfire, who was not displeased to see that the prowess which had before then rendered him hors de combat, was also fitted to cope with Blockey, held in no small respect too, for his strength and skill. " Don't he?" responded Blowfire, or handsome Jack, as he was affectionately termed, owing to a cast in the eye, a black unshaven muzzle, together with a nose like a piece of Bologna sausage cut square at the end, his face being of a mottled grey colour. " I say, sir," he added respectfully to Passion, holding out to him a steaming glass of punch, " just wet your whistle with this, and then walk into him like a gimlet." Passion declined it, but as. the woman who at first saluted him, with one or two others, were very pressing, he drank a portion of her execrable beverage, and " time" being called, prepared to renew the contest. With sundry imprecations upon his eyes and limbs, and not a few passing allusions to " blazes," together with a com- pliment full of sanguinary terminology on Passion's scamp- ishness, which he ( Blockey) would this time chastise, he stood again befo'rc the youth. This gladiatorial strife was enjoyed by the spectators with the most unalloyed delight. To Passion alone, it became a delirium like that of an antique athlete fighting in the Olympian games, and while he was wary of his adversary, knowing that if the man could but once succeed in closely hugging him, all would be over with him and his punish- ment be terrible, he at the same time determined to giye Blockey no chance, and also, that he would inflict as severe a chastisement upon him as he possibly could, for the benefit of others, whom else this man, unchecked in his brutality, might be led to attack, out of their helplessness and the wantonness of his cruelty. Blockey was cautious— very; as Blowfire observed, " He comes up ray- ther shy now." Passion was watching every movement of his eye, and while the man was supposing Passion to be merely on the defensive, on a sudden the youth changed his tactics altogether, and with irresistible force broke in upon him with terrific rapidity, first on the left temple, and again under the right ear, the left arm being evidently a favourite agent with the youth, and finally with one tre- mendous effort of strength which almost awed the assem- blage, caught him beneath the jaw with the right fist turned upward, and lifting the man fairly off his feet, he was sent rolling under the table stunned and bleeding, while, a roar of applause greeted the termination of the fight. All this time, Squizzly was going through a singular series of pantomine. He sparred, he twisted his body, and jerked his elbow, as he saw some very choice hitting go on at Blockey's expense. He twisted about as if in a wrestle. He also struck upward in imitation of Passion, and as the defeated drunkard rolled from his sight, he slapped his thigh with an exulting shout, crying, ". There, d— me, he's ' licked clean as a sugar- stick." In the mean time, Passion, who had betrayed no emotion I on seeing the defeat of his adversary, and who had neither bruise nor mark, and gave no indications of the fray farther ; than by a very slight panting of his broad chest, and a lit- tle paleness of the countenance, was lifted into a heroism in the eyes of the rascal, crew that surrounded him. The first amazon, Bet Trundle, vowed that he should drink a glass of brandy with her, and that he should join them in the revel about to be renewed, but Passion very quietly told her that botli wcre " impossible." " And why not?" demanded the virago, beginning to rouse up, and somewhat angered, that the wild riot which was so promising, was about to sink into an ordinary noise of no great consequence, in fact, rather a bore than other- wise to this young lady, " and why not?" " Because I prefer not," was the reply. Blockey at this moment, supported by Nobbly Jem, was advancing towards Passion, and thus gave the angry bent, which the conversation was taking, a turn. Blockey, dread- fully punished as he was, his gay waistcoat covered with blood, and his mosaic watch- chain spotted here and there with a deeper gules than the red golden hue could give it; stood before Passion, and looked p. t him from head to foot, as if to measure his proportions, and by comparing them with his own. find out that deficiency, in himself, which had caused this shameful failure on his part. ( To be continued in our next.) REBUILDING OF THE OLYMPIC THEATRE.— On Thursday the reconstruction of this theatre commenoed on the site of the old building in Wych- street, recently destroyed by fire. It will be built as an equestrian theatre. MR. MACREADY will commence an engagement at the Theatre Royal, Liverpool, on Monday week! VAUXIIALL,— The Waterloo Fete, on Monday, proved a brilbant affair, the management bringing all their resources into play, and troops of auxiliaries and every variety of effect adapted to the day, combined to render the scene unusually interesting; and by no means the least remarkable feature was the band of veterans, who were in the memorable action. The Gardens of Versailles, with the fountains of real water, attracted unusual attention, and the illumina- tions, with myriads of extra lamps, brightened a cheering welcome. The fireworks also were not to be outvied by the other attractions, and wcre unusually grand and numerous, and displayed the pyrotechnic inventions of Mr. Darby to ' the best advantage. THE FRAIL SISTEIRHOOD. PIVOINE. / _ f ' CHAP. VI. ( Continued from our last.) Dominated by a jealous presentiment, Pivoine re- opened the door which he had carelessly closed after him, and com- menced following him. Thanks to the profound obscurity and the difficulties of the road, George walked slowly; con- sequently she had no difficulty at first in keeping pace with her lover. But the route was long. George still advanced, and by degrees the poor child felt that her step became heavy. At one moment she knocked against a stone ; at another, she skirted against some heaps of dried leaves. George heard the noise; suddenly stopped and listened. He then endea- voured, with anxious eyes, to pierce the misty darkness. But at these moments Pivoine stopped breathless; all was as suddenly silent and motionless; and the darkness re- mained unfathomable. D'Entragues fancied himself mis- taken, and pursued his route. Often did these sounds again agitate the heart of the nocturnal adventurer, without a possibility of his discovering the cause. A vague uneasinsss took possession of his mind, and he commenced walking faster. At length a feeble light was perceived at some distance. This light proceded from one of the windows of the Chateau de Choisy. George approached his object. It was time. Pivoine could only walk with difficulty, and already some considerable distance separated her from M. d'Entragues. George opened the little door of the'garden, with the key which he had purchased of a faithless domestic, and entered. When, in her turn, Pivoine arrived near the same door, d'Entragues had disappeared in the darkness. The young girl, despairing of being enabled to rejoin him in a place un- known to her, terrified also at the idea of braving alone the obscurity of this spot, which was no longer the country, leant against the wall, for her legs bent beneath her, and she re- solved to await his return. In about a quarter of an hour, the Count d'Entragues, supporting on his arm the pale and trembling Esther, crossed the little door with her. A vague fear suddenly seized Mademoiselle De Choisy, whose hand rested heavily on the arm of her guide. " Come, Esther, come," said George to her. " Come, and do not tremble thus. I love you— you know it! I love you — I respect you— and my whole life is yours!" But he had not finished the sentence, when a woman rose up before him in the darkness, exclaiming:— " Liar! liar!" " What means this?" murmured M. d'Entragues, thunder- struck by this fresh obstacle. " Oh! whoever you are," continued the menacing appari- tion, addressing itself to Esther, " Oh! whoever you are, listen not to this man!— follow him not! He will" deceive as he has deceived me; for he swears that he loves you, and he is my lover!— yes, my lover!— the lover of Pivoine!" And Pivoine, for it was her, entwining George with her two arms, said to him in a supplicating voice, passing with- out transition from fury to prayer:— " You belong to me— you are mine. I love thee, George — my George. I love thee—- you will not quit me, nor abandon me— will you?" But already had M. d'Entragues taken his part. He re- pulsed the poor girl with such violence, that she fell some paces from him, almost unconscious, and he exclaimed :— " This girl is mad, Esther! She is mad, I swear it you— for I do not know her!" But Esther was not there to hear these words. From the commencement of the short scene we have recounted, she had fled, seized with terror and indignation, into the murky darkness of the gardens. D'Entragues went in pursuit of her, without being enabled to discover her. When, ferocious and desperate, he returned to the small door, Pivoine had also disappeared. She was not seen at the Chateau of Nodesmes, either that night or the next day. She was not again heard of in the country. Vainly did her disconsolate father, vainly did the Count himself, take every step necessary to throw any light on this inconceivable disappearance. All was of no avail; and the report was spread, and believed, and finished by being gene- rally accepted, that the poor Pivoine had perished in some pond. How many truths, called historical, have no more solid foundations! CHAP. VII. THE ARRIVAL. The facts are as follows:— Pivoine had risen up, half sense- less, and her heart as wounded as her body, and had taken to flight with the sole thought of escaping from the spot in which was M. d'Entragues, and saying to herself if he found her after what had taken place, he would kill her to revenge himself. To this fear, which excited her even to madness, was added the fear of her father. She fancied that if she again appeared before him, he would read on her forehead her dis- grace and her misfortune, he would expel her and curse her. She resolved therefore to fly for ever. Sustained in her rapid flight by that nervous strength which never fails a woman on supreme occasions, she had cleared with inconceivable speed the distance tbat separated the Chateau de Choisy from that of Nodesmes. She again entered the pavilion, then the park, and glided furtively into the little cottage which her father occupied at a few hundred paces from the domestic offices. She entered for the last time her maiden chamber, she opened the two folding doors of her large wardrobe, hastily envoloped in a handkerchief a few articles of wearing apparel that came first to band, she placed round her neck the gold cross left her by her mother, lastly she took a small purse containing the twenty sou pieces, quite new, which her father gave her on certain solemn occasions, as on New Year's- day, and her birth- day. This little stock amounted to the sum total of about eighteen francs! These hasty preliminaries concluded, she entered the chamber of her father, who having left the same even- ing for Granville, was not to return till late at night; she knelt before the old arm chair in which he was accus- tomed to sit, she dropped on the pillow of bis bed the kiss of an eternal adieu, and bathed in silent tears, bursting with stifled sobs, she issued from the house and the park, and fol- lowing the grand avenue throughout its length, she attained the road to Paris. For it was to Paris Pivoine resolved to go. And if our reader asks what was the object of the young girl in choosing this latter city for her place of refuge, we reply that she had none. What did she intend doing at Paris? She never gave it a thought. How did she think to live there? She knew not, nor did she trouble herself about it. But, determined as she was to fly for ever from her father and her country, there was in the magical word, Paris, some- thing that unconsciously attracted her. We may besides undertake to affirm, that although Pivoine was not innocent, the idea that a pretty girl could live iu Paris by ber beauty, had not for a moment presented itself to her imagination. We have not the slightest intention with of describing much detail the little incidents ofthe long journey of the poor child. She walked all day, resting on a bank by the roadside when fatigue compelled her to stop. She lived on little. Brown bread and clear water was all her nourishment. At night she stopped at some village alehouse, and occu- pied the humblest room. This frugal regimen explains how she contrived to pay all her expenses with the eighteen francs she had taken. Nevertheless, at the moment we find her attaining the barrier de Eoule, after more than fifteen days' march, her strength was exhausted like her money, and she had but a ten sous piece ( fivepenee) at the bottom of her poor little empty purse. A little encouraged by the certainty that she approached the end of her journey, Pivoine briskly passed the gate, flanked by its two heavy pavilions or toll- gates, ungracious and inelegant specimens of all the barriers of Paris. She went straight on, carrying, as we have said, her little bundle on her shoulder at the end of a stick. An excise clerk thought it suspicious that she should pass so quickly, and believed in the clandestine introduction of some contraband articles, and cried out— " Hoy! my girl! just step a little this way!" Pivoine, not supposing these words were addressed to her, continued her road without turning back. " Hoy!" repeated the clerk, " hoy! you little Normande!" Pivoine turned back and enquired—" Is it to me you speak, sir?" " Yes, my pretty girl, ' tis to you," replied the custom- house officer. " In what way can I serve yon, sir?" " What is this ?" and the officer touched with the point of his finger the modest baggage of the young girl. " ' Tis my bundle, sir." " I see that plainly, but what is there inside it?" " Two chemises, a frock, a petticoat, four handkerchiefs, and two pairs of stockings." " You say sO," replied the officer, suspicious from his trade, " but I must see." Pivoine untied the Indian handkerchief which enveloped her modest wardrobe, and the officer verified the exactitude of the declaration that had been made to him. " Are you come far like this, my pretty flower ?" he en- quired, after having politely tied up the little packet and replaced it at the end of Pivoine's stick. " Oh! faith, yes, sir." " And from whence then ?" " From Nodesmes, sir." " Nodesmes! don't know it ! where is that country?" " It is near Granville, sir, in Normandy." " And you have come all this way on foot?" " Faith! yes!" " And where are you- igoing?" " Here, sir, to Paris." " And you come here for the first time?" " Faith! yes." " But do you think you shall like it?" " Faith! I don't know." " Where do the persons to whom you are going reside?" " I am going to no one, sir." " At any rate you are recommended to some one?" " Faith! no." " But you have money, I hope?" " Ten sous, sir " " Ah! I comprehend!" said the officer, who was a young man. " you a- e come to seek your fortune at Paris? your eyes are good enough, my pretty girl, to meet it and attain it! well, good luck to you!" " Thank you, sir, said Pivoine." An old officer, with white hair and morose features, who had heard the conclusion of this conversation, then came forward, and said in a brutal tone— " She comes to seek a fortune at Paris! that is, to sell love and beg for gold! and you wish her good luck!) The chance she will have^ the fortune she will acquire, will be shame! misery! despair! and the hospital! God is just, and every beggar cannot steal the bread, which so many honest people want!" v The young clerk commenced laughing at this ferocious tirade, and Pivoine, terrified, quickened her pace. It was under the influence of this sinister prediction that she made her entrance into Paris. The young girl descended the Faubourg de Roule, its whole length, without experiencing any very grand asto- nishment. But when, after having followed, without knowing whi- ther she was going, the street ofthe faubourg Saint Honore, she suddenly debouched into the Rue Royale, having on her right the place de la Concorde, on her left the Madeleine, and before her the Rue Saint Honore ; when she saw through every part the sparkling of thousands of lights, for night had arrived, aud the gas was lighted; when she ob- served the interminable succession of carriages, which, rapidly dashing through every street, crossed and passed each other, carrying like two stars their red and blue lamps, and the incessant procession of comers and goers, and all this movement, all this fracas and all this tumult, she felt overcome with stupor and terror ; her head swam, she sud- denly turned to the right of the place Louis Quinze, which appeared to her less tumultuous and less illuminated, and which she traversed through its whole length. Arrived at the elevation of the bridge de la Concorde, she turned to the left and followed the almost deserted quay which runs through the garden of the Tuileries, and reached the Pont Royal. Then, from one turn to another, and always walking at hazard, she arrived at the place of the Quai aux Fleurs near the palace of Justice, and completely exhausted with fatigue, she sank rather than seated herself on the margin of the fountain which makes the ornament of this narrow pro- menade. The darkness and the solitude were almost complete under the leafless trees which vegetate rather than live amidst the flag stones of the flower market; on one side, the Palace of Justice elevated its sombre masses ; in front, the river rolled its black and rapid waves, reflecting like long trains of fire the lights of the quay de Gevres ; behind ascended magnifi- cent buildings on whose facades the windows of the Prado shed their meteoric fires, for it was a ball night. Seated, as' we have said, in the shade on the mar- gin of the fountain, Pivoine, for the first time since her departure, felt how complete was her isolation, how terrible was her position. But it was too late to draw back. What was done was 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE irrevocable, and the poor child found herself thrown for e'ver, without protection and without support, into the abyss of Paris. For a few moments a bitter despair seized upon her heart. She wrung her hands, wept, and cursed the day she was born. This crisis was short. In a young mind, in a nature almost virgin, confidence is lively, because the disillusions have not been frequent. Pi- voine wiped away her tears and said to herself; " God is merciful! he will have pity on me. He will stretch out his hand to me, and will sustain me." An hour however had elapsed, and the young girl was hungry. Whilst threading the streets, she had well remarked rich magazines filled with comestibles of every sort, and restau- rants inundated with light, sparkling with plate and crystals, but she comprehended that to purchase these savoury " fruits, the plump pat£ s with their gilt and chased crusts, those dainties of a hundred sorts, even the name of whieh she was ignorant of, or to seat Ijerself at these sumptuous tables, it required plenty of money. ' To be continued in our next.) PAUL ADVISES That little man, known by the name of H— d, working at the Emery mills, Weston- street, Southwark, to be a little more circumspect in his manners in future, and not to be seen so much up Staple- street, or he may get into trouble at a certain cost; beware, fori think Sukey is rather stouter than she was: you have many sins to answer for, you old sinner, Paul has got his eye on you. Mr. G— r, not a hundred miles from the King's Head, Leather- lane, not to be so conceited, as the whole, of Leather- lahe does . not belong to you, or show so many airs to your customers, they think very little of you. Mrs., Mac— s, not fifty miles from the corner of Brook's- market, T> orrington- street, not to be larking with the young men, who are lodgers in her house, not that we think there is any harm meant, but it shows a bad example to that young girl, Miss D— S, the father of whom we respect. W— mC—$ j, alias " The Love- stricken Hairdresser," of Bayswater, to trouble, his head with his own business, and let other people's alone, and not always to have so many girls in his back room. E— r, tho girl of the mangle, of Riley- street, Chelsea, to keep to one young man, as it don't look well for three or four to be coming round the house afteryou. Mr. C— P— of James- street, Buckingham- gate, to keep better hours, and not to be seen on the stairs so often with Miss S. B., or beware of the Consequences. J— s C— r, of Cottage- place, York- street, Walworth, to stay at home with his wife and child of a nigbt, and save up his money to pay that young woman what he borrowed. The young man at the egg- merchant's in Drury- lane, no to be seen so much in the gin- shops the first thing in the morning, and not to brag so much about his singing. Mr. W-—, ofNewTothill- street, Westminster, to pay more attention to his business, and not to be running after every girl he sees. The bloated, burly baker of Holloway, known by the cog- nomen of the " Rhinoceros," to be more circumspect in his language and deportment towards females; he may rest as- sured his over attention and flattering blarney is deemed as fulsome as his noisy vulgarity and fulminating outbreaks are insolent and uncalled for— both are disgusting. He must in the future avoid these extremes, or his rude conduct will subject him to farther exposure. Let him, at all events, keep quiet till after the dog- days. G. T— p, Royal Horse Guards, not to go after so many girls, and get everything from them he possibly can, and then leave them. Where did you get the money to go home, old boy? , Cripple Nosey, the milkman, near the turnpike, to clean his cans, and think less of his ugly sallow face; and not be seen blowing his hatchet nose and combing his greasy hair over his skyblue. Miss W— s, the cook of the Edgeware- road, not to be seen at the area, nor insult respectable persons passing. Mr. W— r, the cock laundress, not to trouble himself with other people's business of Praed- street, nor to be seen walk- ing with girls late at night. Mr. B— r, the grocer, of Praed- street, to give good weight, to mind is own business, and pay more attention to his new married wife. Miss G— ss, of Praed- street, not to fancy every young man in love with her, also to keep better hours. Kid- faced Jemmy, of Clapham square- walk, not to go about boasting that he has been a postman, for we know betier. How about the wrong pie, Jemmy ? H—•, alias Rock- my- Jock, to open a stall in the new park for his old woman to sell brandy- balls. Miles's Boy, not to go about Hackney making such an ass of himself, as to talk of putting down Paul Pry. We are not put- downable, spooney. B— r, of the Lea- bridge, to remove the quid from his jaws when he delivers letters at respectable people's houses. M— n, of Homerton- walk, not to smoke so much shag tobacco, and not to drink on the sly, and say he's a tee- totaler. Cocky D— o, to mind his own business, and not worry that harmless idiot, Miles's boy, quite so much, or he will drive him mad. J• S— t, to look more after his poor mother, and not wink his left peeper at the servant girls when delivering his letters. The picture dealer who wears a wig, living not a hundred miles from MeSd's- court, Wardour- street, to conduct himself properly when he goes out in that vehicle of his, and not to nod his head first one side the road, and then the other, especially when he has got the cracked- in- the- Qoop- auc- tioneer with him. B. L— y, not to be so much in George- street, after the walking lamp- post, but stick at home and stock his mother's bonnets for her, J- C— n, to mind what he is about with the new- laid eggs. A. H. L— e, the little man of the Eastern Branch of the London and Westminster Bank, not to brag so much of his musical taste, or flatter himself he plays the flute. To bear in mind that there are plenty of cheap baths and wash- houses established for the benefit of all classes. BROOKE'S MARKET.— T— S C— 11, the gouty butcher, to attend to his work, and not go after the girls so much, also not to swear before the customers' servants. Does he remem- ber washing his dress coat at the pump? Miss L—, the butcher's daughter, not to be so vain of her- self when she walks down Brooke- street, for Paul thinks it impossible that the whole of the street can belong to her.. She will have another poke if she don't mind her Ps and Qs. Old J— k S— s, to behave himself with a little more gen- tility before the females, or he will have their husbands at him. Sam S— y, alias " Fat Jaok of the Bone- house," not to dive so deep into the pewter pots at a certain public house in the back street, but to pay more attention to his wife and children. ESSEX.— B. W— n, of Leyton, not to allow her daughter Eden out quite so late of an evening. BERKSHIRE— M. B— k, aj the Bell and Dragon, Cook- ham, not to boast so much of her silk parasol, ajid keeping company with a tradesman. BIJIDPORT.— Mr. G— d, the Bristol swell, not to be so fast. How about the 2s. 6d. per week? Miss R— n, of Downe's- street, not to think so much of that little boy at the Ironmonger's shop. Miss H— e, of the same house, not to " run to the casement to look at the men." Mr. T— n, the draper, to get married] as soon as possible. Mr. W— r, not to cut such a swell on ten hob a week. Mr. F- t, of Union- street, not to grieve so much after that " nice young gal," who has lately left Biidport. Mr.. G— x, the schoolmaster, to join the tee- total society. The young lady with the fiery- pole in East- street, to be careful and wary of the young counter- jumpers, more especialy of W. J., the fast son of a tinman of the same street, whose organ of amativeness has been pronounced very powerful. BRIGHTON.— Mrs. A— e, of Hampton- place, to keep a still tongue in her head, and to pluck out the beam in her own eye, before she sees the mote that is in her neighbours'. The leather- seller's son of High- street, not to stay out late at night, nor be seen with loose characters. Mrs. H., the fruit- woman of Edward- street, not to use brass- candlesticks when she wishes to chastise her daughter, or perhaps, an unfortunate poke might be the means of finish- ing both. GLASGOW.— J— e M— k M— s, to let people know where he has gone to. BERWICK.— Mr. G—, to write no more plays, as he will get no profit from them. Mr. W—, not to stop out late at night, and to inquire into the amount it costs for wine and spirits on such occasions. We reckon it must be somewhat large. BERKSHIRE.— Old B— d, of Bisham Abbey Farm, not to try and get poor . men the sack, or their wages lowered, as we must remind you of your own poverty once, and can Only say— " May the man never grow fat Who carries two faces under one hat/' . E. F— r, the would- be painter of Bisham, when painting people's doors, to take care his colours are fast ones, and will not wash off. SURREY.— The exciseman of Kingston, not to trouble his head so much, with a certain family of the Market- place. A certain dealer in rugs near a locksmith's of Wandsworth, not to let his horse stand so long at a cottage near a church on a common, for fear it might run away. The parish not to fight so much about enclosures, Mr. C. F., the singing saddler of Fig's marsh, Mitcham, not to make his crib the half- way- house, and not have so many pots of beer when his wife goes out, and hide them when she returns. KENT.— The London- street TOm Thumb, Greenwich, to drop the acquaintance with his gutta percha ladies. Mr. M— n, of Marlborough- street, East Greenwich, to be- come a member of the anti- poking- your- nose- into- every body's- business society, for they want a few members to re- present East Greenwich. Our town and country friends to preserve their numbers in order to beeomc entitled to tho magnificent plate promised with our fifty- second number. The chairman of the C— e B— g Society, better known by the name of Teetotal Tommy, at Mr. M— n's iron warehouse, East Greenwich, to mind his own business, and not poke his nose into other people's affairs, when his papa's in the country. The Dartford Police, not to go to the festival and cadge a dinner as they did last year, without leave, as there will be a good look out for their next festival- day. W. M— n, draper, of Troy- town, Rochester, not to be so fast. Do vou know aught of 2s. 6d. per week, Master Billy? OXFORDSHIRE.— Mrs. B, of Henley- on- Thames, not to allow her husband to pick his nose in the presence of customers. SHEFFIELD— Little Charley, the swell of swells, to re- collect that all the sheets in Sheffield are not his property. BRISTOL.— W. M— d, the sinister cabinet- maker" of Moorfields, not to boast so much of earning 25s. per week, nor to sport that pipe so much, for fear the Pacha of Egypt should lay claims to it; also not to let that poor young woman be deluded, who lives in the buildings not far from his home. DORSETSHIRE. POOLE.— That booby, S— m, the draper's- boy, has not pro- fited by our last advice, but on the " anniversary Sunday" actually " handed round" the collection- plate in the chapel. Aldridge's office- boy, C— s, has reformed a trifle by our salutary poke, by kicking up a row with his mother, break- ing the plates, dishes, & c., and would not desist till she signed a declaration to the effect that he should noyer again have " soaks " for breakfast, but that she would allow him " adult's diet" at Is. per week extra. PAUL WISHES TO KNOW Why S— m 0— d, the little sanctified cheesemonger, of High- street, Camden- town, takes to wear gloves? Is it be- cause he considers himself big enough to walk out with the young lady that wears the pink bonnet ? How J. S— y allowed the snaggle- tooth printer to take the bar- maid of the " Waggoners " away? PROSTITUTION. THE following exhibits to the reader, a cold, deliberate plan of villany, cleverly concocted and pursued with great steadi- ness for sometime, by one of those monsters in human form, who, to ruin a woman, spare neither money, trouble, nor truth. There is something abominable in the mannerthat he seeks to compass the destruction of the weak, the confiding, tl. e unprotected. He takes advantage of that path open to in- dustrious, virtuous women, of applying for employment through the medium of the public journals, and this source he poisons at the spring: he returns her a disgusting reply, which leaves no doubt whatever upon the mind as to his in- tentions. He seeks to pollute with his own filth, the pure and innocent heart, who thinking that she might receive a benefit, has her feelings wrung thus brutally: and such a wretch as this is to be allowed to attack the decent properties of life with impunity! He can thus gravely attack the sense of modesty, the morals of a female, whose subsequent con- duct in this matter reflects the highest credit upon her. Who, in this case, can be safe? The reader's wife or daughtermay be openly solicited hy a ruffian in the public streets, and the law is powerless! Surely these vile, these unprincipled attacks made upon the morals of those who really are virtuous in a vicious day, deserve the severest punishment. Mr. Talbot, Secretary to the London Sooiety for the Pro- tection of Young Females, applied to Mr. Ingham, magis- trate, at the Lambeth Court, under the following circum- stances :— He received from Woolmer's Exeter and Plymouth Gazette office, a communication, stating that a respectable female had inserted the undernamed advertisement:— " To Milliners and Dress Makers.— A young person, aged 30, who is fully competent to undertake the management of a workroom, is desirous of meeting with an engagement as first hand dressmaker:— Address," & c. To which this answer was sent. » " Why seek a situation, when you might go into business for yourself? If you would like to live in South Wales, you may meet a friend, in a single gentleman just your own age, a Devonian, manly, good- tempered, and constant in his attach- ments. A note addressed to B. Edwards, Esq., New- inn, Westminster Bridge- road, London, will safely reach him." This reply, so ba § e and infamous, caused an inquiry, and, by means of a fictitious correspondence, the writer was dis- covered to he a Mr. Edward Bartlett, of 95, York- road, Lambeth. The object of Mr. Talbot's inquiry, was to know whether he could be brought before the magistrate and held to bail for future good behaviour; but as no criminal act, beyond the moral outrage, was proved, the magistrate could not interfere. There is but one thing to be done with this soulless indi- vidual, who is such a " manly " fellow, who is " constant in his attachments," and above" all, a qualification which ought to have had its full weight, but which every man coming from the same place, must consider as being an emphatic disgrace to a county— above all, who is a DEVONIAN ! Was it possible, however gross, licentious, or vile the pro- position— was it possible for a woman to resist this ? In fact it was proved so, and Mr. Edward Bartlett, of 95, York- road, Lambeth, in addition to making his full- blown vices publicly known, has discovered that to be a " manly Devonian " is not always a recommendation to the graces of theses. The law cannot reach him. We regret it. But the voice, the judg- ment of the public can, andit ought. No hand should be laid upon him ; but he ought to be avoided, to be treated with the contempt he deserves. : He would have cast One human soul a dishonoured1 wreck to rot upon some dunghill in the world— we say he would, at some time or other. Let the same, or some such fate tfeach him that deliberate Wickedness will work itsown chastisement. PAUL IN THE PLAYHOUSE. HAYMARKET. Marston's tragedy of Strathmore, so long expected, made its appearance on Wednesday last, with the most decided success. There is a remarkable principle elucidated during the whole progress of the tragedy, and that is the principle of self- denial— all his efforts are to counteract the working of circumstances that he cannot control; but that Mr. Kean was an efficient representative of such a man as Strathmore, we deny. There was much power and vigour of conception displayed here and there, but he was immeasurably behind the true and lofty dignity of the poet's creation. It is a great pity that Macready did not have the play. Mrs. Kean's Katherine was perfect, as she can be perfect at times. The other portions of the play were well filled. The return of Mr. Stuart to these boards was not the least noticeable event of the evening. PRINCESS'S. The German company, owing to some disagreement, have removed their location to the Princess's, and. on Friday night Don Juan was splendidly performed before a. crowded and admiring audience. Pischek and Karl Formes, were in decided earnest over what they did, both in singing and act- ing, and the most rapturous applause greeted their endea- vours to please. On Monday evening, as Caspar, in Der Friescliutz, Herr Formes exhibited the powers and capabili- ties of his gigantic voice to even more advantage. With regard to his acting, it may be looked upon as the most per- fectly finished thing of the day. He. has more care, polish, and ease, than Lablache; and the great'hnffo, when he would be comic, descends to tlie grotesque; Formes, on the contrary, has a meaning in his drollery, while flashes of power, and masterly exhibitions of talent and skill, prove him to be, not only ail acquisition to the musical world, but one of those likely to be more popular than any other singer we have ever had, not even excepting the human serpenticleide of the Italian Opera, Haymarket. ASTLEY'S. The recent events in India are being transformed into money at home. On Monday, a grand military spectacle, entitled,— Mooltan and Goojerat, or The' Conquest of the Sikhs, was produced with all the powerful auxiliaries of this fine establishment. Marie Maearte afterwards delighted the spectators with her skill and grace. The beautiful domestic drama of The Crock of Gold, concluded the amusements of the evening. MARYLEBONE. On Monday, Mr. Davenport selected the part of Benedict, in Much Ado About Nothing, on the occasion of his benefit, which we are very glad to see was remarkably well attended. We have before spoken of him in this character, and have only to add, that he played with his usual skill, spirit, and judgment. The Witch Wife, which has been successful, was repeated on Tuesday. QUEEN'S. One would scarcely think that there was dramatic meri enough iu Sterne's spasmodic writings, to supply a theatre so tremendously melo- dramatic as the Queen's: but the epi- sode of Poor Maria, in the sentimental journey, has been worked up in a very effective manner: the sympathies of the audience are roused up to the highest pitch by the acting of Miss Atkyns, as the Maid of Moulines; altogether it is a decided improvement upon Seven Dials, though the rabble of St. Giles's may not appreciate it. PICCADILLY SALOON. This infamous place still flourishes and battens amid the corrupted garbage in which it luxuriates. Still does it draw the source of its beastly existence, still supports its gamblers, its swindlers, its demireps, because there are still fools to be found willing enough to1 spend their money— to idle their time— to frequent this atrocious spot in despite of all the warnings that have from time to time been given them. A case is recorded in last week's paper, connected with the Piccadilly Saloon, which almost gives rise to the idea that some members of tbe police force are in collusion with them. We do not say so, bnt we cannot see why a man, taken up under the circumstances detailed, should have been so harshly treated by either the officer or tho magistrate. We must re- turn to this subject again. * 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE PAUL AMONGST THE PUBLICANS. " BUNGS, HATE AT TE ALL!'' THE SWAN & SUGAR LOAF, FETTER LANE, HOLBORN.— GEORGE LEE. It is always extremely satisfactory to ourselves to be con- scientiously able to write well of any place— that we can do so of the place in question affords us much pleasure. The Swan and Sugar Loaf is of very unpretending exterior, though possessing considerable accommodation within. The landlord is civil and obliging, the articles superior in quality a id moderate in price, and the attendants polite. The par- lour situate on the ground floor is neither commodious nor elegant, but it contains a first- rate bagatelle board, and is generally crowded by sharps of A 1 class. We must protest against the charge, 5d. per pot for porter, made in this room: we know of many very superior to it, both as regards comfort and company, where only 4d. is charged. The skittle- ground to the right of the parlour, is a tolerable one and pretty well frequented, but the great attraction of the place consists in the concerts held here, every Monday and Saturday. The Concert- room is lofty and capacious, neatly fitted up and well adapted for the purpose. Mrs. Harrison the pianist is not merely a very good player, but likewise sings remarkably well— Mr! Busby the conductor is a genuine vocalist, he chaunts capitally, and is really a first- rate fellow, bar his liking from drinking deep out of his friends' glasses— Mr. Whitney gratifies the company, by the way in which he gets through his sentimental songs— and Messrs. Wood and Col- lins are excellent in their comic vocalisation. The quick humour of tbe first- named gentleman is really fine, and affords a rich treat to the frequenters of this room. Miss Lee looks charming when singing " We maybe happy yet;" and taking them all in all, we have no fault to find with any of the professionals, ( by the bye, when did tavern singers first dignily themselves with this title?) The Concerts are invariably crammed, and the company quiet, respectable, and well- conducted— the liquors supplied will bear testing, although we cannot but think the charge of a id. for a pipe an imposition. Wo are the earnest and unflinching enemies of vice; but shall ever be foremost in promoting that- innocent amusement, whieh " gives delight but hurts not." We love to see the multitude enjoy themselves in harmless recreation, and are never so well pleased as when we are surrounded by virtue tand happiness. In conclusion, the entertainments at this house are rational, and therefore well worthy of support. THE EX- PIANIST OF THE " HOPE." There are persons continually crawling along this earth, who are determined to thrust themselves before the public, though they stink in the world's nostrils. Tbe ex- pianist of the " Hope Tavern," Blackmoor- street, is a creature of this class. Having some time since left his lucrative situation of instrument tormenter to this classic tap, he has been ruralizing somewhere near Furnival's- inn, from which locality he is in the habit of dating his splendid epistles. We recollect this individual some time since get- ting up a meeting at a low pot- house to put down our im- mortal selves, on which occasion he took the chair, and we believe a collection was made for the purpose. What has licen done with the funds so collected? Has it been re- funded to the brainless idiots who subscribed it, or has it found its way into the pocket of the very respectable chair- man ? We really thought this affair would have been liis last questionable act; but we find he has actually committed himself so far as to write a letter to a respectable news- ver. der, which almost amounts to a threat. It is such a delightful specimen of learning that we sub- join a specimen of the style:— " Furnivals Inn. " SIR,-— You will perseve from the papers that wot I told you a long wile bak as kum trew. and it has kum home to liall them their venders of paypers wot sels PAUL PRY. and you will find hit hout alwas i told you a little wile ago. i therefor bops for your own sake as well has for the hage in wich we liv you'll sel not no more of these here paypers. i remain, yours & c. JAMES VILLEY. [ If any of our readers can possibly translate the above, we will make them a present of our REFORMER OF THE AGE, from the commencement to its final close, which is not, ac- cording to present prospects, likely to be for some years to come.— Ed. P. P.] possible, those actions creditable to the police— those decisions which add to the dignity of the magistrate and his office. Here was a policeman, who appears to have acted with the greatest forbearance and good temper upon an occasion likely to irritate the best- natured man in the world, who is called by a drunken man— gentleman though he be— talking with two females in the street at two o'clock in the morning — I repeat, this inoffensive guardian of the peace is called opprobrious names and ferociously attacked. He is locked up, and in due and proper time comes before you. It is upon this point I would express my sentiments, it is the principle involved in your judgment that elicits my admiration. Two poor men had the same morning been sentenced to seven days' imprisonment for assaulting the police; tbis gentleman wlio has wealth, and could easily, afford to pay a fine, is sent to prison for seven days for striking an officer, and that " no distinction could be made." Now, sir, it is the carrying out of this principle, which destroys the hackneyed truism of " one law for the rich and one for the poor," that will redound to your credit as a magistrate and as a man. Toleration to wealthy ruffianism has been the practice far too long. For a sovereign, a man might buy immunity for any outrage he might choose to commit. This is a lesson that will have its due weight, it will bo effective in checking the volatility of gents who are " dis- guised in liquor," grow pot- valiant, and attack men who do not offend them. It is quite proper that tho policemen should be protected. It is quite right that any outrage of this kind committed upon them, should be visited with the severest penalties the law can inflict. By their office they are excluded from the possibility of being the aggressors; and a man may be suddenly struck, so as to be seriously injured for life, in a moment, because he is off his guard, because, in fact, he has no right to anticipate such an outrage and therefore is not prepared for it. But it is necessary, at the same time, that every complaint of the kind should be substantiated. There are men in the force who will not scrapie at any thing they say or do, and the fact of being an official laying a complaint, should not be entitled to implicit belief before the assertion of the accused. I do not think that a man giving evidence upon oath is more worthy of credence than he who simply denies the charge made against him, I repeat that it is proper the police should be protected, but care must be taken that in the execution of their duty they do not presume upon the protection they receive. I remain, Your obedient servant, PAUL PRY. THINGS TO MAKE US LAUGH IN POOLE. Little Hussy's blowing the railway whistle, to get a good pair of mustachios. Mr. B— s, the watchmaker, thinking his wife so hand- some. Miss B— n, High street, her affected walk. Mr. G. G— n, baker, High- street, and J— y L— r, horrible playing at the Independent chapel. Mrs. J— n, High- street, actually engaging 58 !!! servants in the last year. J— s H— y, having a sign over his window. L— y K— l's shocking " blue " nose. S— n H— t's Sunday toggery and walking- stick. Fat T— t, foreman of the " Herald," wearing a finger- ring. LETTER- BAG. GLASGOW BROTHELS. ( To the Editor of Paul Pry.) SIR,— According to promise, I write to you again concern- ng " Glasgow" and its inhabitants. And first I would premise, that as Rome could boast her pavements, or Car- thage its architecture, Glasgow can boast ( if boast it be) of her brothels, which are not only numerous, but many of them very handsome, both outside and inside. As a sample of this latter class may be mentioned Miss M— k's, Jamaica- street, ( or rather what was Miss M—- k's, as we believe she has retired, the devil knows where,) which occupies three flats of a handsome four- storied house, and at a first glance looks more like a private hotel. On entering it, everything is in keeping with its exterior appearance; the furniture is handsome, even elegant; the rooms are stylishly painted and papered, and some of them gilt in a handsome manner; and most of the walls are hung with pictures of rather a volup- tuous caste, but very congenial with the orgies which are carried on every evening in these apartments. But I need not give any description of these bestial revels, as we had a very graphic one in your vice- suppressing journal heretofore. In my next I shall probably treat on the saloons, but no more at present from Yours, & c. P. and W. POSITIVES AND COMPARATIVES. By G— E G— y. 1.— A poem written and sung to music is an " ode," but a sweet scent is an " odour." 2.— There is a kind of wood called " deal," but a trader is a " dealer." 3.— To jump is to " bop," but a basket for carrying seed is a " hopper." 4.— A female pig is a " sow," but any acid substance is " sour." 5.— A false step is a " slip," but a loose shoe for the bouse is a " slipper." 6.— A song is a " lay," but the sprig of a plant is a " layer." TO MR. BINGHAM. SIR,— I read the following in the daily papers:— " A Mr. Henry Hughes Aiknian, ' gentleman,' said to be a Colonel of Militia, was charged before you with wantonly assaulting a policeman by unprovokedly striking him on the lieud with a thick stick, knocking him down, & c." Now, Sir, as I am a friend to law and order,— as I have al . ays endeavoured to promote the growth of good among men— as I have censured the police, and police- magistrates, for many things for which they richly merited rebuke, so have on the contrary applauded and made known, as far as BOOKS RECEIVED. Seymour Sketches; with explanatory notes. By W. Farrcn, Comedian. The Road to Ruin. A Comic Drama, in one act. By Mr. Stammers, Future Lessee of Drury Lane Theatre. Palestine. Being the experience of a few days' stay in the Israelitish Country. By Mrs. Edwin Yarnold, assisted by one ofthe " peoplesh." The Whole Art of Elocution; or, How to Speak a Speech. By Mr. Braid, Actor. Swindling made Easy. Being a Short Account of a Trip to Bedford. Translated by S. A— s, author and actor. CORRESPONDENCE. Every letter for the future, containing advice, must be ac- companied by six postage stamps. J. MARTIN.— We cannot answer for this insertion unless ac- companied by the usual stamps. We are compelled| to adopt this course on account of the great number of letters re- ceived at our office, putting the writers to the expense of paying postage when there is scarcely a chance of their ever appearing in print. EMMA M.— We shall be most happy to receive your own experiences ere we insert the first, so that we may continne them from week to week. F. W. A. ( Bevan.)— Your lines are not quite up to the mark. W. P.— We would gladly oblige, but really the lines are so badly written that we could not possibly do so without fear of ollending our numerous readers. B. J.— Have the goodness to read our first notice. J. B. L. C. ( Poole)— Your trifles have not been forgotten. The printer mislaid them, which caused the delay. Wc are compelled to make the charge to save ourselves the time of opening thousands of letters that could never possibly be answered. TOM TRIM.— You say you have written to us five or six times, and that only three or four have ever appeared. We think you ought to consider yourself well served, as many have written to us who have never had the gratifica- tion of seeing their letters printed. We never bound our- selves to insert all that was sent us, and have stated so some eight or nine times. P AND W. ( Glasgow.)— In sending the notices of the saloons, have the goodness to give the names of some of the most conspicuous of the visitors, and their peculiarities. IVEAN.— We have destroyed your former communication on account of its having no real name or address. As you have since left your name and residence as a guarantee, at our office, have the goodness to send us the notice and it shall be attended to. %* Several parties who have written to us from the provinces touching their inability to procure our journal for love or money, are respectfully informed, that if they remit two postage stamps to our office, we will undertake to send the PAUL PRY to any part of the United Kingdom. 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 Winterhalter'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 ! ! ! TRY ERE YOU DESPAIR.- HOLLOWAY S PILLS . CUBE OF ASTHMA.— Extract of a letter fron Mr. Benjamin Mackie a respectable Quaker, dated Creenagh, near Loughall, Ireland rlated September 11th, 1848.— To Professor Holloway.— Respected Friend: Thy excellent Pills have effectually cured me of an Asthma which afflicted me for three years to such an extent, that I was obliged to walk my room at night for air, afraid of being suffocated if I went to bed by couj » h and phlegm. Besides taking the Pills, I rubbed plenty of thy Ointment into my chest night and morning. ( Signed) BENJAMIN MACKIE." 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 the 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'sPills, 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 thst Colonel Dear who is with his Regiment in India, the 21st Fusileers, cured himself of a very bad attack of Fever by these celebrated Pills. There is no doubt that any Fever, however malignant, may be cured by taking, night and morning, copious doses of this fine medicine. The patient should be induced to drink plentifully of warm linseed tea or barley water. COBE OF DBOPSY IN THE CHEST.— Extract of a letter from J. S. Munday Esq., dated ICennington, near Oxford, December 2nd, 1848. — To PBOFESSOB HOLLOWAY.— Sir,— My Shepherd for some time was afflicted with water on the chest, when I heard of it, I 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 has ever since been my most earnest endeavour to make known their excellent qualities. ( Signed) J. S. MUNDAT. THE EARL OF ALDBOBOUGH CUBED OF A LIVER AND STOMACH COM- PLAINT.— Extract of a letter from his lordship, dated Villa Messina, Leghorn, 21st February, 1845 — To PBOFESSOR HOLLOWAY.— Sir,— Various circumstances prevented the possibility of my thanking you before this time lor your politeness in sending me your Pills 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 I. iver and Stomach, which all the most eminent ofthe 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) ALDBOROUGH. CUBE OF A DEBILITATED CONSTITUTION. Mr. Mate, a Storekeeper of Gundagai, New South Wales, had been for some time in a most delicate state of health, his„ eonstitution was so debiliated that his death was Shortly looked upon by himself and friends as certain; but as a forlorn hope, he was induced to try Holloway's Pills, whieli had an immediate and surprising effect upon his system, and the result was to restore him in a few 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 aDpeared on the 2nd January, 1848. A few doses of the Pills will quieklv rally the energies of both body and mind, when other medicines have failed. These celebrated Pills are wonderfully efficacious in tlie following complaints. Ague Drospsy Inflammation Sore- throats Asthma Dysentery Janudice Stone and Gravel Bilious Com- Erysipelas Liver Complaints Secondary Symp- plaints Female Irreg- Lumbago ' toms Blotches on ularities Piles Tic- Douloureux the skin Fevers of all Rheumatism Tumors Bowel Com- kinds Retention of Ulcers plaints Fits Urine Veneral Affec- Coiics Gout Scrofula, orKing's tions Constipation Head- ache Evil Worms of all kinds of the Indigestion Debility Weakness from Bowels Consumption Scurvy whatever cause Sold at the Establishment of PBOFESSOR 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. IJd., 2s. od., 4s. fid., lis., 22s., 33s. each Box. There is a considerable savin;; by taking the larger sizes. N. B.— Directions for the guidance of Patients in every Disorder are affxed to each Box. EXTRAORDINARY SUCCESS OF THE NEW REMEDY. — UPWARDS OF 17,000 CURES WITHOUT A SINGLE FAILURE. T\ R. WALTER DE ROOS, 1, Ely- place, Holborn- hill, London U earnestly invites every one suffering from those dangerous dis eases arising from Solitary Habits, Excesses, and Infection in a their stages and varieties, which 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 of his important dis coveries, 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 ofthe 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 has already been manifested in upwards of 17,000 cases ; and as a stronger as- surance he undertakes to cure, without hindrance to business, the most inveterate case in comparatively few days, or RETURN the MOMEY. All those deemed INCURABLE are particularly invited. Country patients will be minute in the detail of their cases, as that will render a personal visit unnecessary.— Advice, with medicines, it. 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, HOLBORN- 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. Ail 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."— Daily Times. The following are our appointed Agents:—- London: W. COLE, Bedford- street, Oxford- street, Mile End.— Deptford: F. L. LYONS, 8, Broadway.— Greenwich : H. IIILL, ') Market- place.— Bristol: COOK, Sims- place.- Manchester: HYF WOOD, Oldham- street.— Leeds: A. MANN.— Glasgow: W. LOVF Nelson street.— Derby: BEOOKES, St. Alkmunds- chin- chyard.— Leicester: BILLSON, Bellgrave- gate.— Beverley : WARD, Butcher - row.— Banbury: BUNTON, Cherwell- street. - Sheffield : ROCERS Fruit- market.— Brighton: TOURLK, 57, Edward- street.— Newcastlel on- Tyne: 1> BANCE & Co., 8, Side.— Bradford, Yorkshire: W. COOKF Vicar- lane. Printed and Published by the Proprietor, G. JOHNSTONE, 12, Russell- court, Brydges- street, Strand.