PAUL nrttttf PRY, " IT IS A VIRTUOUS ACTION TO EXPOSE VICIOUS MEN."— DRIDEN. No. 23. PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. THE MURDERER FOUND! CHAPTER II. MY BIRTH. WHEN the bloody deed was done, and the three murderers were met together in the chamber where the slaughter had bceti committed, they gazed a moment in a sort of embarrassed irresolu- tion at one another. The pause was broken by Bill Blood, who growled, " Wot! all dumb? this here vont do by no manner of means. Look at that ere carpet, mum,"— my mother did so, and a shudder passed over her frame—" and see whether you likes to leave such evidence; you must set to vork and mop it up— as for me, I must mizzle, ' cos I must prove a halibi if anythink goes wrong." " You are not going ?— you must not go yet!" cried Charles. " Wot for?" demanded the butcher, coldly. " What is to become of me?'' cried the pale and imbecile youth, wringing his hands. " It may, perhaps, be best that we do go, after all," he mutteringly added. " Charles !" exclaimed my tender- hearted mother, " you are not about to leave me here?" and going up to him, she continued in a whisper,|" remain here ; you have nothing to dread; get rid of this brutal wretch— give him some gold, and I will seek for more for you." It seemed as if in this appeal there was some deep intensity of tenderness, that was raised up within a heart which might be said to belong to a devil, rather than to a woman. She adored her paramour. It was a love which would have been sublime— which would have ennobled the man, weak and worthless as he was, had it only been free from the hideous taint of guilt which had overspread her like a leprosy. She feared, now that the desperate act was done, that she should be despised, and even hated ; that this very act, which left her free and wealthy, would be met with a shuddering aversion on the part of Charles. She was right. Already he loathed her. She had brought upon his head such a tremendous rosponsibilty that his limbs were paralyzed by unspoken terror. But the words of the butcher had certainly roused them up. My mother went to a sideboard, and poured out some potent pale brandy ; bade them drink, for all were horribly pale, though, perhaps, she herself was the firmest. The butcher drank with an oath, swearing that " she was a trump, and fit for any business in the heavy line." Charles drank his, as if it had been liquid fire; and, finally, my mother having requested Bill Blood to get a pail of water up, in order to wash away " the filthy witness" from the carpet, and as there was not a soul within the house save themselves, they moved about for the present with unre- strained quickness. In fine, the old man's grave in the garden was dug, and so art- fully covered over, that no human eye could have detected it, and the " chamber of horrors" was so cleansed and purified that the remembrance of what had been done, alone, seemed to re- mind them that they were murderers. My mother gave Charles a bag- full of gold ; and Charles gave the butcher twenty golden guineas, with which the wily but bold ruffian departed, attaining London with speed. Charles had also taken his departure, and my mother sat alone in the room, whence her hushand, about an hour before, had been carried forth, a man- gled corpse. There were two or three servants belonging to the house. Their absence, all at one time was not unusual, only that it was so late. Each had returned, each went about the ordinary duty of his or her place, and with a very demure air, having exceeded her time, about half an hour, my mother's maid came in .0 ask if her mistress wanted anything. " Bring in the supper upon a tray," was the answer. " Your mas- ter has gone out, and will perhaps be late, I shall sup and go to bed." " My goodness, ma'am!" ejaculated the girl, half- frightened: " you look so ill." " Yes, yes," was the hurried reply; " I am ill; I will go to bed; bring me some supper, and then leave me awhile;" and the girl, obedient to her orders, quitted the room, haunted with some indefi- nite terror that oppressed her. In a few moments, she returned with the tray, and a second time quitted the chamber, till she should be rung for. The unnatural excitement of the day, the tragical catastrophe, so truly terrible, the emotion of every kind consequent upon them, had evidently greatly affected my mother, who was in so critical a state, that one would have supposed her incapable of any exertion whatever. Be that as it may, when in the parlour, she was aware that the pangs of premature labour, in which I good reader, was concerned, yrere coming on, and something like a pang of unutterable terror gleamed up from the abysses of her soul, on reminding herself that on that night a strange cir- cumstance would happen, there would be two events to mark it for ever in her memory at least— one soul extinguished in blood, and the child of the murdered man born two hours afterwards! He, reader, on that night was brought forth into the world. There were the doctor'and the nurse, and the servants and friends and relations came when summoned. There was that peculiar, silent bustle, that whispered conference, that busy air of agitation and importance which characterise these momentous occasions. There were many inquiries made regarding the old usurer, which no one could answer save by conjectures. There was much sur- prise, which grew up into anxiety ; but the business in hand was too important to be neglectcd. I have since learned that my mother appalled the nurses and those nearest to her, not by any word or sound, but by her white, bloodless, grinning features. She appeared to behold some horrible object before her, which she neither shrank from nor sought to avoid. My father's unaccountable disappearance caused much noise at the time, but all gradually fell into silence. Advertisements were printed for the missing man, but none answered. No one had seen him ; all was wrapped in mystery; much was suspected, and my mother was included among the number at first; but at last that died away. They searched among his papers, and found hta will. To my mother's dismay, the old man had settled upon me the bulk of an enormous fortune, to be kept under the guardianship of two wise, well- to- do City merchants, till I was of age ; leaving her a small annuity, sufficient for her to live upon. I was provided for like a prince— she, like a pauper. This retribution was dreadful ; for, would not her paramour de- sert her now ? The thought was hell to her. Even while she looked down upon the child that smiled at her breast, drawing the m; lk of the murderess, she felt a sentiment of hatred stealing across her heart against it, because she beheld in the infantine face, the lineaments of him she had sent out of the world. She was to me, therefore, a mother as terrible as a tigress. CHAPTER III. AQUA T0FANA. SOME two or three months elapsed since my birth, and, in spite of all, I was a thriving child; when, in my little cradle one evening, the nurse being out of the room, Charles and my mother held a tete- A- U4e together, but of no very amicable sort. He was more than half drunk, and was drinking then. His appearance had undergone a total change; for the haggard cheeks, the hollow eyes, the bloated and pulpy mass that fell over his jaws, betokened some terrible internal suffering, and this had j) een aggravated in the way usual to such men as himself, namely, by copious and continual drunkenness. And yet he never dared to allow himself to be totally overcome with liquor, lest he should blab; lest he should place around his own neck the fatal noose. So that, while he was never sober, he was never completely drunk. His mood had grown savage and bitter; the glittering prize for which he had played his- bloody game had vanished ; and my mother was powerless to aid him. While she had neither terror or remorse, she felt all the horrible tortures of a worse pain. His love for her had changed into loathing. He abused, re- proached, jtndeven struck her. Still, like a fawning spaniel, she clung to him. It was her only hope, that of once again gaining his affection ; and, though the task appeared hopeless, yet she clung to that hope as the drowning wretch clings to life while buffeting with the waves, that seem ready to swallow him up. " Give me some money, curse you!" he growled out, as he dashed his emptied glass on the table; " do you think I spilled the old man's blood to drag away my life at your feet? You promised me some; keep your word." " I cannot, Charles," she replied in agony; " how cap you be so cruel?'' " Cruel, be d— d!" was his abrupt exclamation. " Money, money— gold! or I shall be obliged to cut your throat, or mine." " Wait yet a little," said my mother, glancing upon me, sleep- ing not far from her; " let us think it over." " Oh, yes; think! Well, do think it over, and be quick, too," retorted the half- maddened man. " That wretch I hired to fulfil your pleasure, madam— your will"— " Do not say so, Charles, I implore you," was the beseeching entreaty. " Was it not your's also ? Nay, was it not yourself that first"— " You lie!'' he interrupted. " It was you who would have me do it. It was to please your sensuality, your lust." " And I have given this man all," muttered the murderess, in a voice of such feeling, as made her sincere in the belief that she was a wronged, an insulted woman. " What's that you say?" demanded the drunkard. " Nothing," was the reply. " Ah! Well, then, perhaps, you will let me say out my say ; and it is this. I engaged a wretch to aid us in this accursed business; and now he hangs about my neck like a millstone, eurse him. Would he were in the depths of the sea !" he added, vindictively. " He drags every farthing out of me. He makes me cheat and swindle; and insists upon forgery, now, to pay him for silence; do you hear that, madam— for silence?" My mother turned paler; she was most dreadfully alarmed, but only for him. " Ah!'' he added, replenishing his glass, " it will at least be a satisfaction for me that I shall not swing alone; no, no— not alone — that is some satisfaction." " Charles," said my mother, in a tone so soft, musical, and ten- der, that the man was startled by it, and lifted up his head in sur- prise, " Charles, have you ceased to love me?" The question came with such peculiar force that it staggered him. He saw for an instant, and an instant only, into what a great gulph she had rashly leaped for him. He remembered the sums of money she had bestowed upon him, in order that they might be madly squandered in riot and debauchery, and he replied in a rough em barrassed manner, " Why— hem— yes, d— n it, I do— but I want r 2 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. money. I am penniless, I am in that butcher's power— nay, he swears that he will apply to you." " To me ?" said my mother, wiih a smile so cold and fierce that the blood of, the man ran oold fur a fwoment. " No, no," he hastily said, " no more blood, I've had enough of it. Zounds! you would kill all out of your way." " All for you," she answered, and tliep past another look upon me, though I still slept calmly on. His eyes followed her's, and he comprehended what she meant. He gulped down lj| g glass, moved uneasily in . his fehfiir, when my mother added— £ pl? . ; fcf « ' " This man shall* see me; yes, and I will satisfy him; I will reward him so richly that he will not want more." Charles uttered a frightful oath, and grasped my mother by the shoulder till she winced. " I thought it, d— n you; you can find money when you want. And you, prate to me about love.— love! I hate you ; pay me for my services— and—" " I will." The answer was so quiet, so cold, so deliberate, and off- handed, that the next glass was swallowed, as if in pledge of harmony. He did not think of her bitter words, and only that if he wanted money he must play the bully with her. [ To be continued.] DISSIPATION! OH, COURTIERS AND COURTESANS; A TALE OF FASHIONABLE LIFE. F— P— KS, VIC- A VAULT AND BILLIARD ROOM, FA— GT, SHEFFIELD. ONE evening, while taking a quiet ramble through the town, re- marking every thing, yet molesting nothing, poking our nose into every hole and ccrner where evil could lurk ( and small must be the particle which our Argus eyes cannot detect), finding out everybody's business, yet keeping our own a profound mystery, " pooncing " ( as the natives say) with our all- powerful umbrella every one who swerved from the path of rectitude— tired with our walk, but more from the jostling which our august person received in the High- street, we were looking around us for a place to rest our weary limbs, when we heard the tinkling of a musical instrument, and always being a lover of music, we were quite delighted to find that we could get both rest and amusement at once— and that, in a respectable- looking house too. So accordingly " we dropped in," and found— what, gentle reader? a form ran along the front of the counter, whereon were seated about thirty persons; the greater part of them, from their dress and manners, could easily be known as women of the town; the rest con- sisted of blacklegs, ruined gamblers, and singers. As soon as we had recovered from our astonishment, we made a rush past them, though not before wc observed one of the bullies kissing his paramour in a corner, and another with his arm round the neck of a young woman who was holding a glass to his lips, ( which he scorned to have had too often before;) another young woman sat smoking her pipe with one of her legs over the knee of a young man who sat next to her. At length we . found ourself seated in the parlour, where we- thought we should be free from in- trusion. But in this we were quite mistaken, for the room was quickly filled by the same class as those that frequented the bar. The women ordered gin- and- water for themselves and partners. As soon as this began to operate they called for pipes and tobacco, and soon were enveloped in clouds of smoke. Now commenced their obscene revelry. The women laughed— reader, they laughed — those poor fallen creatures of sin, of shame, were merry— and burst forth in snatches of songs learned in the happy morning of their life, when encircled by their loving friends. More than once we saw a cloud steal over tlie painted face, and the lip which a mo- ment before mocked its Maker's holy name, now trembled with an emotion which could spring alone from heaven : again their trem- bling hand clutched the glass aud drained it at a draught.' This roused again her boist'rous gleo, And drove the angel from her soul, Who, in sweet tones of harmony, Had bid the past like sunshine roll Athwart the darkness of her mind '.— AHMSTONG. Qur quarters soon became too hot for us, so we beat a retreat: but before wo left, wo took a peep into the billiard room: there were but few present; and those that wfere, their conversation and mar ners proved they were not gentlemen ; it was equally - as plain that they were not workmen. Then, what could they be? Men who live upon their wits- and other people's follies. Such is this public " clap- trap." And now, gentle reader, if you be. jj!> » *> f that sex whom QU » Maker lias appointed to be a comforter to'us in our passage through life, preserve thy chastity above your l^ ftifor when once you have fallen from the golden throne of virtue you- become debased in your own eyes— and when once you think meanjy of yourself, ypu soon must hurry on to destruction. ScoiiPlAN. GREENWICH FAIE. * . .. -.--<> EASTER Monday is always a groat day at Greenwich ; and not- withstanding the unpromising state of the weather, the fair possessed its usual attractions. Undaunted by the watery clouds which floated in tho air, and the cold chilling wind . which blew upon the river, thousands of pur pleasure- seeking citizens might be seen, hour after hour, hastening to the scone which the E. ister holidays have from time immemorial made their peculiar home, and where they have been observed more joyou. ly than anywhere else. The steam boats in quick succession discharged cargo after cargo of human beings, collected from tlic different piers, and wharfs be- tween Westminster and London- bridge. The railway and omnibuses also brought their contingents, and from an early hour in the afternoon every corner of Greenwich and the Park, as far as Blacklieath, were crowded with visitors. The stalls and booths were filled; each showman had his group of admiring spectators. From the open doors and windows of the beershops a dense cloud of smoke cscaped, dimly revealing faces and figures of happy revellers carousing within. Then theve wore girls and their sweethearts whirled round at a frightful velocity in the circular swings, or playing at " kiss in the ring" iu the Park. Somo in- vested the hoardings of a week in onp large purchase of gin- gerbread nuts; others, more prudent, reserved a portion of their earnings for the indispensable " scraper," with which to startle the nerves and distract the cars of the opposite sex. Those who were " flush " of money bqught prodigious noses, with which they paraded the streets, or perhaps a trumpet. or. shrill whistle satisfied their ambition to be peculiar. On the faces of all resided an expression of thorough good- humour and gaiety, upon which the gloom of the weather and the soft slushy state of the ground appeared to have no effect, la one street the principal attraction was a number of disabled seamen, who, seated ou the damp earth, exhibited their amputated limbs with astonishing cheerfulness, being consoled, no doubt, in the midst of their misfor- tunes by the coppers which the sympathisers showered on them as they passed. Among the visitors in the Park were aj arty of Egyptians, whoso flowing white trowscrs and - rod fez caps produced a strong impression. Some of them had so far sur- mounted their reluctance at seeing women unveiled as to arm themselves with tremendous scrapers, and these tlic- y used with surprising constancy and dexterity. Out as far as Blackhaath tho long stream of holiday amusement extended; for there were to he seen youths practising archery with considerably less expertness than William Tell, girls riding desperately on donkeys that wouldn't go, and crazy old Rosinantes galloping away from their lawful owners, bestridden by gentlemen as precarious in their seats as the poor beasts were upon their legs. As evening closed in the Park waS deserted, and the booths and dancing- rooms became the great centres of attraction. Richardson's still retains its pre- eminence among the dramatic exhibitions of Greenwich- fair, and is well worth a visit. The whole performance does not occupy more time than half an hour, and embraces a melodrama, a comic song, and a pan tomime. The melodrama is very amusing, the deepest parts of it being generally enlivened by a flourish of penny trumpets, whistles & c., from some noisy gentlemen among the audience. As for the dancing, which generally closcs the festivities of an Easter holiday, it will best be seen at the Crown and Anchor booth of Mr. Alger, which is brilliantly lighted up, and was last night filled to over- flowing. Then there was Serjeant TADPOLE, mighty mind! Of law and lyrics equally combined. The forum heard him thundering through tho day— At night the audience yawned o'er some dull play The learned Theban's leisure had brought forth, Of more than legal tedium, rant, aud froth. TADPOLE, though no great genius at " the Bar," Vain, like a peacock, as most " counsel" are, Wore his black gown and venerable wig, Thinking he looked most formidably big. His speeches were a compound, much admired, Of flowery phrases by his muse (!) inspired, And lines from SHAKSFERE neck and heels lugged in— The gold that glittered ' mid the Serjeant's tin— And worn- out jokes long laid upon the shelf, Jokes at which no one laughed except himself. Each play othis— alas! they little sold—• Was " classic "— and most classically cold. The name " Athenian " might be seen in it, But there was nothing of the Attic wit. Each pompous line most regularly sweet, Enjoyed the proper complement of feet, As though some careful carpenter, no fool, And not Apollo, had employed his rule. Nor did great TADPOLE limit and confine Ilis mighty genius to the drama's line. Sonnets he wrote, though heaven above us knows Who ever waded through such stuff as those ! Nay, one fine day, determined to reveal Still greater wonders in his scribbling zeal, lie - made a " tour," then wrote a liist'ry keen Of all he, TADPOLE, had both heard and seen— The hour each night lie put his night- cap on— The hour each morn lie saw the rising sun— The thoughts that burned within his poet breast— How Mrs. TADPOLE— and the fish— were dressed ; The mole- hills mounted with advent'rous force, And into mountains magnified, of course ; The foreign language in its puzzling tone, As little like real English— as liis own ; Tbe vales, the lakes, the little fishes, too, The rocky pathway, where he cut his shoe; The clumsy diligence's creaking din— The washing- bills he settled at the inn— All Nature's beauties— earth and sea, and air— Nature and TADPOLE ! what au ill- matched pair ! Reflect* ® ,. dream, and meditative thought, Th' exjj^ ic curiosities he bought ; In short, as strange a medley as you'd meet Of tittle- tattle, nonsense, and conceit. TADPOLE'S supporters, those who raised the cry Of TADPOLE'S talents, were the lesser fry Of actors, authors, critics, " minnows" all, Who hailed in little TAD a " Triton" tall. In. their third- class and somewhat fusty club, Shese shining lights assembled used to dub Tlie legal bard a BYRON in his lays, And crown his forehead with a wreath of bays. TADPOLE, whose vanity was never tired Of hearing how his genius (?) was admired, Swallowed it all, anil on his little staga Strutted the would- be wonder of the age. Next, readers, your attention T must claim To my Lord LACKLAND'S interesting name ; A name in politics not quite unknown, Although it boasted little of renown. The Earl of LACKLAND, some ten years before, Had sailed from England for the Indian shore, Made by the Whigs who ruled us in that day, Governor- General of our Eastern sway ; That po$ t important then his Lordship' filled , And in it proved himself both strong and skilled ; So cried his toadies all with one accord— The world judged much more harshly of the Lord. His was an open policy of war, Careless of blood as Governors still are. He conquered provinces he could not keep Sent various Rajahs to their final sleep ; Spread sweet VICTORIA'S most benignant name Through lands laid waste with pillage and with fiattio ; Met with disasters carefully glossed o'er, And when victorious made the cannon roar. In short, through all his rule he never ceased, Good man, to play the devil in the East. Poor LACKLAND was no beauty ; ' tis confessed His face but little of the mind expressed. ' . His look was " solid," flatterers averred— If not an Earl's, p'raps " stolid" were the word. His stout and awkyvard figure, coarsely shaped, Which all the tailor's witchery escaped, Caused him, when first you saw him, to ttppoar More like an Essex grazier than a peer. " Shy and reserved" his Lordship was, they say, His conversation mostly " Yea" and " Nay ;" But when by chanco the oracle out spoke, " How dry he is," they cried ; " how good that joke !" And they were right, for all he said was full Of " dryness," if by dry you mean what's dull. My Lord, his homo and heart alike to glad, Besides his title and his. " dryness," had Two sisters— maiden ladies very nice— The Honourable Misses PARADISE ! Both had been with him iu his Indian state, Hoping, ' twas said, to find an Indian mate, Since London bea, ux had turned a callous oar For many a long and dreary spinster year. But yet the Indian climate with its heat, Though melting, brought no lover to their feet; No Eastern prince bowed wooing at their knees, With bronzed complexion and with bright rupees. The elder in the fine arts sought relief, Taking the pencil to forget her grief; And hopeless of some grand Calcutta match, Sketched all the princes whom she could not catch. Tlie other was a most vivacious dame, With auburn locks— the somewhat courteous name Politeness gives to tresses where you view The carrot's red predominating hue. This gentle lady's very lively tongue, From morn to night incessant phrases strung ; Her theme the fiddle- faddle of the to'. vn—• ALBERT'S last coat— VICTORIA'S latest gown. She'd not much intellect, and, save her head, You could not justly say she was deep read. The Earl of LACKLAND'S sisters werS, in short, Maids somewhat stale' for Corydons to court; Their forms and faces, to the critic's eye, Had, like their brother's wit, grown rather " dry," [ To be continued] PAUL ADVISES J. P— n, butcher, of Doclchead, Bermondsey, to mind his own business, and not interfere with other people. R— t O— y, of Gim- lane, Limehouse, a boy of sixteen, to keep better hours, aud not be so fond of styling himself a man. J. II— 11, alias Gooseberry, the ostler of Whitecross street, not to go pasting so many bills up at night. Miss M— y C— 1, the milkman's daughter ( who goes by the name of Cast- iron Jack), of Southgate road, Kingsland, not to run after every young man she meets, fancying they are in love with her. C— y B— n, the whitcheaded old sinner, in the vicinity of the Royal Oak, Walworth, to pay more attention to liis family and not get drunk every Sunday night, roaring like a bull. Old S— r, secretary of a club at the oak, Walworth, to keep himself sober, and not fancy, when drunk, he is a match for any one. Mr. P— I, linendraper, corner of Waterloo road, Lambeth, to be a little more friendly with his brother, D. P. Master H. C— e, the baker's son of Mile end road, to holdup his head when he goes out, and not seem as if he was looking for sovereigns on the pavement. S— 1 P— r, tailor, Francis street, Ncwington, to leave off paltry tricks to his opposite neighbour R. G— n, by threatening him to let his house for a beer- shop. How about the benefit clubs? Mr. C— h, of Litnelhouse, not to visit the Eagle in the Mile- end road, so much, and to leave off larking with the . girls on Stepney green, for Miss S— 11 is well- known. G— e L— 3, the wealthy butcher of Munster street, Regent's park, not to put the broker in poor people's houses, and to be very particular in his weight. W— m II— d, of Crisp street, Poplar, not to lay out so many pence in piclcwicks. We fancy the servant of the Grundy Arms Arms is ip love with you. Mr. C. P— r, of the Nag's Head, Leather laue, not to lay the flat- tering unction to his soul that he will ever make an actor. Your attempt to play Edmund Esdaile in the " Charcoal Burner," at the Gough street Theatre, was superbly ridiculous. Charley, my boy, take our advice— stick to your business. If you think you possess genius, use it in drawing together crowded houses at the Nag's Head, to see you perform your old character of Boniface. Mr. M. C— e, of Norfolk street, Strand, to give up his lazy mode of life, aud not compel his respectable mother any longer to turn her handsome dwelling into a common lodging- house, in order to support him in indolence and reckless extravagance. " A gent is not a gentleman, Mr, M—; and there can be no real indepen- dence or manly spirit in one who prefers to live on another, rather than by his own industry. M— n, the worthy politician, of a paper establishment in Wal- brook, City, to find a friend to provide him with the Times, in order to perform Suuday debates, as those on the M— 1 A— e S— y are getlSng so worn out, and he is quite at a loss for something fresh in their place. Mr. G—, of Drummond orescent, Euston square, not to water his sky- blue so much. Miss C— e G— e to clean the windows and look respectable. T. K— s, porter at a certain silversmith's, in Hosier lane, Smith- field, to shave his upper lip, and not stare modest girls out of countenance; also the old porter at the same place, not to think himself such a large man. D. T— 1, the tailor, of Queen street, Edgeware road, not to be seen so often hanging about a certain greengrocer's in the same neighbourhood, sucking the ends of his fingers. If he really loves the daughter, lot him honourably acquaint lier father upon the subject, and net content himself with doing the amiable at the kitchen window. Mr. H. H— 11, of Oakley street, Lambeth, the man in tho smock- frock, to keep better hours, aud to learn to kill pigs in a a more humane way; not to drown them in hot water. Put them to death by cutting their throats properly. G. B—, of Portpool lane, Leather lane, not to think so much of himself. Mr. L. II— 11 ( the carrotty- liaired young man from Rotherhithe street), not many miles from the King Mills, not to flirt so much about Albion street. The young ladies are very sick of him. G. M— r, a sailor on board the Commodore tug- boat, not to think so much of his hair, as it is well known it is false; and not to be seen so much with that young girl. Has he forgot the affair with the publican's daughter? II. P— m, of Albany road, and T. M— n, his friend, not to go near Miss B— s, of East street, Walworth ( the dyer's daughter), as her father is aware of their intentions. G. B— m[ alias the Dancing Jemmy, of Chandos house, East street, Walworth, when he next gives a ball, not to invite Miss B— y J— e D— s, and Miss L— into his private room, for the pur- pose of romping and rolling them on the bed; and not to allow Bill Bounce ( W. D— s), the boy in tho docks, at 18s. per week, to be so familiar with his sister. M— y B— d, of Jones's Coffee- house, Howland- street, not to think herself s< x fascinating, for the young men consider her of no account; nor try to make everybody believe she looks like a French waitress. We know she comes from the Emerald Isle. G— e B— y, the cobbling carpenter, of Blenheim street, Chelsea, to keep from Westminster, or lietsy will give him another sound beating, and tear his coat again. II— y W— d, greengrocer, of Farringdon Market, when he takes a certain young woman to the Victoria Theatre, not to talk about the market of the expense that she put him to. D. W— e, of„ Pimlieo, to look after his own wife a little more, and not be seen larking with Miss W— d over the garden boxes so much. We have not forgotten Miss T— r yet. C. W— y, the conductor of a Pimlico omnibus, to look after his business a little more, instead of gazing first at his watch and then at the girls, all through Westminster. Mr. J. J— d, who keeps a bird- shop in Newington road, near the Elephant and Castle, always to give good weight, and never to brag in company about his money. It is no credit to you to boast of the quantity of gin and beer you can drink. Mrs. R. S— s, the chemist's wife, of Spa fields, not to make her husband get up so often in the night; not to iie in bed when she ought to be up; nor compel R. S— s to make her toast buttered on both sides, while he eats bread once buttered. R. J— n, of Bishopsgate buildings, not to meddle so much with other people's business, but try aud get a home for that poor woman whom he has lately married. A— d A— s, the watchmaker's son of Great' Prescott street, Goodman's fields, not to think quite so much of himself; for if any young woman does profess a regard for him, it is meant for his long purse, and not for his ugly facc. 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. Mr. G. C— r, Blacksmith's arms, Rotherhithc, to remember and give liis wife a sovereign to buy herself a pair of breeches. It looks bad for her to wear her husband's. Mrs. F— d, of the Horns, cuckold's point, to mind her own business, and not chat so much to her customers, particularly to Old Tom, about getting married to tho servant maid. A— d P— e, the White- coated Dwarf, at the harness maker's, not to brag so much about his killing eyes, and to behave him- self, when with L— a B— k, of Manchester street, King's cross. Paul fancies he left his pocket book there. Take care he doesn't call for it at a time peculiarly unwelcome. \ y. T— n, of Newington, to think less of himself. How did you relish your trip to sea some time ago? You had better stick to your office stool, and save your money, than spend it in tobacco and going to the Grapes tavern ? How is your hright- eyed sister, eh ? E— d L— s, of Blue Anchor road, Bermopdsev, to stay at home and look after his little tobacco shop, not interfere with other people's business, and not to talk about his money so much. T y H g, living in or near Dockhead, not to frequent low free and ea6ies, nor masked balls, at the St. Helena gardens; nor be so fond of taking the" gals" to the alcoves there. Does he think his " governors" in the City would place so much confidence in him if they knew of his goings on ? W. G. F— n, late of Bermondsey square, to try and lose his propensity for drink ; also to beware of false friends, who " stick" to him like " bricks" while he " bleeds" freely, but deserting him when he ceases to do so. Young M— s, the sucking leather dresser of Grange walk, Ber- mondsey, not to be so confoundedly conceited as to imagine he is clever in everything. N_ d, of Oakley street, Lambeth, not to make himself a fool when he goes tn the W. L. and S. Institution, at Walworth. We suppose he thinks all his sayings are very witty ; but to some persons they are far from it, and very disagreeable. A certain young lady, in Union row, Walworth, not to be segn at casinos and balls when her pa' is out of town. We have seen you there once or twice, and think your dancing anything but delight- ful; besides your pa' would not like it if he Jcnew of it. You make a very thrifty housekeeper. ,' . W. L— e, of the New Kent road, and lus bright companion, T. iff— s, not to be seen at ten o'clock at night talking with the bad girls. It does not look well in either, particularly the former. Does he know what age he is 1 That little " flirt," named T— ly, of Albion street, Rotherhithe, not to be seen out at all hours of a night after young men. Wc think a girl of sixteen would be a deal better in bed. How about the sailor that was going to marry you as soon as he got made captain ?—( Query.) Mr. P— 1, of Cock lane, Smithfield, printer, not to fancy every young lady is in love with him. He had better send that woman home to her husband. Mrs. E— e, of Martha street, I- Iaggerstone, not to stand so much at her door, nor accuse her neighbours of those dirty ac- tions, at which they shudder. A slanderer is one of tho vilest characters in existence. Mrs. M— 1, of Norfolk street, Blackwall, to keep her two daughters in of a night, and not let them run about with the joiner- boy. J. N— n, alias Little Hercules, of the Independent Gas Works, Haggerstone, to attend to his calculations a little better, and not talk ahout punching the stokers' heads quite so much. Keep that pipe out of your mouth, and then there will not be so many mistakes. Mrs. P— s, not to be seen at chapel with the smith, her lodger, as it don't look well. Miss M. L— b, not to think so much of Mr. K— d, the tally- man, as he only make3 fun of her. Mr. A— k, the London road nurseryman, to attend to his own affairs, and not trouble about his neighbours'. H. I— n, vinegar maker, of Finsbury, to discontinue his visits to the I— n Arms ( not a hundred miles from Kingsland gate). J. G—, of Iloare's brewery, East Smithfield, not to bo seen so often at Paddy's Goose, in the Highway, with Betsy, as it may come to his wife's ears. L. J— n, of Chelsea market, to look more to his bad eggs and Irish pork. Joe, the waiter at Ball's Coffee house, Walworth road, not to be so sweet on the old servant now she has come back again. Miss Pratt, the washerwoman, of Scotland green, Tottenham, to think a little less of herself, and not be seen out so late at night. How about tho ex- policeman ? Conceited Tommy, the newly I • ' e beadle of Newington, to be more quiet at church ; not keep skimming the pew doors to, and shaking his cane at children, all done evidently to attract atten- tion, because, he is stuck up in buff an 1 gold, a suit belonging to the parish. You put us in mind of a dressed up frog; don't make such a fool of yourself, but resign, resign, resign ! you are not fit for it— beastly ! Mr. Y— e, Castle tavern, Alio street, Goodman's fields, not to he seen so often at a certain house in Philpot street, where a certain dark- eyed lady resides, called " the Youthful Bride;" but to stop at homo with his wife a little more. Miss H— h W— e, of Bromley hall, Middlesex, not to think that the potboy of the Cherry Tree is in love with her. She is very much mistaken. HORNSEY.— Mr. R. E— n, of C— r II— l^. not to swear and curse so much. An old man like him ought to attend to his soul better— unless the only gentleman in JIarnsey thinks otherwise. The Misses T— r, of Mount Pleasant, not to be so vain of them- • so niggard with their wine aud cake at their evenings at SILVERSMITHS. Mo— see, residing in Jewin crescent, Jewin street, Aldersgate street, not to show his ignorance in respectable tradesmen's shops. Does lie remember wanting to turn cabdriver? J. E— ds, residing not above fifty yards from tbe above, to stick more to the truth; people cannot swallow his bouncers. 1'— y, a polisher, at a manufactory in Harrison street, Gray's inn road, not to talk about bis earnings, as they are nothing to brag of. MIDDLESEX.. A. M— x, of Church street, Isleworth, not to be so often stand- ing at the door at night, talking to II. C— m. D. P— g, of Isleworth, not to be so often in the churchyard with Miss S— m. J. M— y K— d, of Isleworth, to leave off going round the old womens' washtubs, and turning the mangle. G. B— t, of Isleworth, not to come home drunk on a Saturday night. J. R— n, the snob's sons of Isleworth, not to be sJen sO often with H. C— s, the barber's son. Mr. W— d, clock maker, of Hounslow. to look after his daughter Mary, and not let her walk out with the soldiers. Ah, Polly 1 Paul sees you. Rory O'More, of Hampton Wick, beer- shop keeper, not to mix so much sugar and water with his beer, and to fill his pints and pots. T— m B— s, oarpenter, of Bushy Park, not to get the girls under Kingston bridge. Had lie not better attend to his wife and family, and not to goto Kingston on a Saturday? Miss C— k, dressmaker, of Hampton Wick, to attend to her business and her mother, instead of running after a young gardener at tho Stud. Mrs. P— g, of the King' Arms, Kew, to attend to her own affairs, and not join iu caaversattoa with svety. customer thu, t enters tlie parlour. Mrs. W— s, at the Red Lipn tap, Hampton, to keep her tongue in less motion, and not to tell people that she made sausages for Napoleon. It— t S— h, of Hampton, not to grin so much at tho servant of the Jolly Coopers, as it is no go. J— s S— h, the corn dealer's son of Hampton, to be a little more civil, and- not 60 bounceable in T— l's parlour, or he may have another poke from the Rose Villa gardener. Mr. C— k, when he gives another ball, to find J. S— h, T. E— e, and G. S., of Hampton, in dancing pumps. W— m P— k, cashier to a certain draper in Highgate, not a hundred miles from the post- office, to abstain from running after Miss H— t R— e, of the Five mile stone, or perchanec ho may get another blaels eye. home. Mrs. C — 4 not to wear blue boots on a wet Sunday ( though she may fancy slis has a pretty foot), and to walk better. . HOLLOWAY. T- W. G— G, jun., of G— H P— e, to attend to his father's bakehouse more, and not run after the maid servant at Alfred villa. Mrs. M—, of Wellington plupe, to set Jier cap at- tlio young man who is evidently smitten with her. Mr. W. W— t not to get behind kitchen doors. Mr. T. B— a, of the King's Head, to salute his customers when ho meets . them. t — '*""• KENT. DEPTFORD.— M— a T— g, of Church street, as she is gotting into years, to keep in- doors, making her slop shirts, instead of run- ing after T. S— r's coal truck opposite. The Misses G— e, of Deptford, to advertise in the Sunday Times for husbands. We advise them the next time they have a party, to invite ladies as well as gentlemen. D. S—, the pot- boy at the Feathers, not to think so much of himself, and not to visit Birdcage walk, Hackney road, when he comes up to London. W. S— i, the carpenter of Victory street, Now Town, not to think so much of his dancing abilities, as a man of five feet four inches high is unworthy of the ladies' notice. Mr. C. L— y, dancing master, of the Hall, Greenwich, to pay more attention to his new pupils, and to think a little more of his character, as well as to the loaves and fishes'. L— t P— h, Evelyn street, Lower road, not to go sponging upon poor washerwomen, and borrowing pence of his neighbours. J. S— d, the well- known half- witted teetotal printer, of London stree't, Greenwich, not to interfere with the'domestic affairs, snd not to discharge his poor servant- girls so often without warning or character, merely because he pleases. Docs he not remember the poor girl who stole the loaf? The blustering steward of the Evelyn estate, Lower road, not to ask so many silly questions when a petsoii comes to liirg a house, on the estate, and not to curse and swe'ar so much. Mr. S. C— t, the little baker, of High street, Deptford, not to fancy himself so much when he is among the fighting men of Greenwich. Miss S. A— n, of Garden row, Deptford, not to go about with the young sailor, but think a little more of the butcher at the cor- ner of Bridge street, Greenwich. Mrs. H— e, of Florence road, Deptford, not wish to be master over Mr. H. Mr. E— d K— g, of Broadway, Deptford, not to think himself everybody because he smokes cigars and sends comic valentines about the neighbourhood. Mrs. H— g, Lower road, Deptford, to bo more careful how she takes away a young girl's character. Recollect, you have daughters of your own. Mr. J— n Pratt, Griffin's street, High street, Deptford, to " speak of a man as he finds him." Mr. W. P—, of Orange court, not to be so fond of being at the butcher's shoj) on Saturday evenings, to see what people buy. Mrs. M—•, oflligffSCfeetJ Deptford, not to be above answering the door when her servant is out. M— n B— y, of New town, Deptford, not to say she is married to the Woolwich soldier. Mr. M— k, sen., grocer, New Cross, to shave tho long hair off his lower lip, as it makes him look like a goat. Mr. G. F—, at the Rookery, Downe, not to go shooting so much, but pay more attention to his mother's business. Mr. J. E— s, vicar of Downo, to attend to what he preaches a little more, and less to other people's business. Mr. J. C—, gardener at Downe house, not to think so much of his wife, but attend to his gardening a little more. GREENWICH.— Mrs. F. W., of the Victory pudding- house Trafalgar- road, to be a little more kind to her servants, and not be changing them so often. J. B— n, the tobacconist, of R— y terrace, to conduct himself better. J. M'G— y, of Burney street, to mind her own business. The mother of the above, not to accuse people of theft. How about the shift? Mrs. N— e, otherwise Black Sal, of East lane, to stay more at home and look after the rags and bones, instead of running after the men so much. Mr. II— g, tailor, of Church street, Greenwich, not to be so fast in ordering customers out of the White Horse beer shop ; and Mr. E. H— g, son of the above, to use the taproom, as his company is not wanted in the parlour. W. B— s, alias the White Hart Pet, of Lewisham, to be a little more careful with his snake- like tongue, as his tattling will do him no good. How about the young man, the salt beef, and tho fat that H. L. H. gave the dog, the other day? Mr. W— t, butcher, and clerk to Mr. S— d's chapel, Lewisham road, to find something else to do of a morning besides watching all the people that go into the Duke of York opposite ; and when certain butcher's men on Blackheath hill go there, not to run round directly and^ tell their masters: it is quite disagreeable. WOOLWICH.—- Mr. B— t, butcher, Saud street, to pay more at- tention to his affectionate wife, and less to his affected neice. Mrs. B— ge, late of Charlton terrace, now of Woodland cottage, not to be gadding with the young men every evening, or she may be sorry for it; likewise to remember her poor husband whg is at sea. Mr. J. H. G— s, of Albion road, not to boast so much of his goods, n^ r of his queer- looking wife. Miss D— s, at the Steam Packet, Woolwich, the fascinating barmaid, not to think so much of herself when she is talking to the boilermaker. Miss C. N., of tho clothes shop, not far from the post- office, Plumstead common, to pay more attention to the service at Trinity church, on Sunday evenings, instead of staring people out of countenance. J- F— d, and his valuable wife, of Samuel street, to drink and speak less at. other persons' expense. T— s A— s, of Sydenham, not to go after so many servant girls, especially the cooks. J— s C— i, of Sydenham, to look after a place, and not be skulking at home on his father's hands. The two Miss B— r's, of Bell green, Sydenham, not to interfere with other people's business, but to keep in doors and mind their work more. Miss 12— a L— n, of Bell green, Sydenham, not to have two young nien, one At Southend, and the other at Sydenham. J— s B— e, of Sydenham, not to look after Miss C— e li— r, jun. ; you are of no account there. GRAVESEND.— W. B—, of John street, not to be seen lurking about Mr. B—,' s, after Yellow Belly. She knows a trick or two. Mr. II—, of the Pilot Tavern, not to talk of others' failings. Miss B—, of Bentley street, not to take Miss F. with her to meet'her sweetheart. She may play the knavish part and steal her beau. Mrs. S— s, of East- terrace, to pay lior tailor's bill before she lets that little monkey learn dancing. How does Sammy get on with his French ? Mrs. N— h, of Richmond terrace, to look after her servant, or the one next door to her will make her as had as herself. Mr. T— s S— t, butcher, Munster, Isle of Sheppy, to mind his own business. How about card- playing at Eastchurch? Mr. A— m B— y, farmer, Eastchurch, Isle of Sheppy, not to bo caught with Mrs. T— g. How about your sonant? SURREY. Miss E— a 0— y, of the butcher's shop, Wandsworth road, to attend more to the business, and look less after the omnibus con- ductors. Poor old Bob, of Croydon common, not to say any more to the wolf, or he may get worried the next time. T. D— h, the carpenter, in Heathen street, Kingston, to be more circumspect for the future, and not suffer himself to be caught in people's water closets. G. W—, foreman at a cabinet maker's in High street, Croydon, had better stay at home and mind his handsome wife and child, instead of being at the barber's shop quite so much. Mr. J. C— n, the hair- dresser, of Kingston, not to be such a know- all. Mr. T— s S— y, of Kingston, not to he looking after all the women, both married and single. The landlord of the Coach and Horses, Kingston, not to covet another man's wife. The groom at Dr. B— « s, not to fancy liis terrier superior to any dog in Kingston. Mrs. S—, the pork- butcher's wife, of Church street, Kingston, not to drink so much. A. R—,' the dark- eyed servant at the Annerley tavern, Norwood, the next time she comes to London, not to get drunk, and to use better language than she uid, when at the Fox- under- tlie- Hill. Mr. J. B., foreman of the candle manufactory, Wandsworth road, to look more after his wife and children, and not be putting letters through the fence to single young ladies. Mr. W— e, the linen- draper, of Godalming, not to make himself so conspicuous about the petition for the watch. We think that the long gentleman ( the beak) is watch enough. The whiskered leather- dresser, of Godalming, not to keep his poor men out of work so much, or we shall say more upon his system. Mr. J— n R— y, tlie Mitcham sawyer, to pay more attention to his wife and less to Mrs. G— m about the green. Bonnet and fet- ters old boy ? The town clerk of Godalming not to sit in the front room so much with his housekeeper. Miss M. A. D— y, of Park road, Clapham, not to be so con- ceited. How about the bandy baker on Clapham common? Master W. D— y, of Park road, Clapham, not to be seen larking with the servant at Bedford lane quite so much. ESSEX. Mrs. B— it, the little butcher, opposite Stratford church, not to go to the King of Prussia so much. If he does, Miss E. C. will cut his company. The landlord of the King of Prussia, Stratford, to discontinue his unlawful serving on Sunday Mornings. Miss S— n II— n, Church street buildings, West Ham, not to run after the young men so much. She had better stay at honie and turn her mother's mangle. F. P— 11, at Hart's Woodford, when he walks out with that kitchen girl, not to talk such nonsense as " Carrots are very nice!" Mr. T— s B— s, of Hornchurch, not to trouble himself with with other people's affairs. By- the- bye, it does not look well to be seen sneaking about a certain house, at a late hour in the evening; recollect, you have a wife and family at home. Mr. J— n B— tt, of Horlicnurch, to be more obliging to his customers. W— m C— s, of the Marsh, Stratford, to pay a little more respect to his dress, as he has been seen in company with a respectable young man lately. Mr. E— d G— y, of Barking, not to think so much about that little widow Mrs. R— d, for she may go guttfng again next season with some bluejacket. Mr. J. C— r, of Canning town, Plaistow, to stay at home, not to into Hie country tantalising ( jflier young men's girls. Misses M. B— d, of tho Nag's head, Stratford, to be a little more more civil to her mother. BUCKS. Mr. H— 11, the well known black man, of Slough, to pay more attention to his wife, and less to a certain married woman of the same placo. . BATH. A certain stout young butcher ( without whiskers)," near Queen's square, not to stand talking to the cooks in that square so much, as it causes a great delay to business. BRISTOL. It. M— y, baker, Broad- weir, Bristol, not to buy cigars, anc! drink gin- and- water every night, knowing he has only 2s. per week; and likewise to leave off visiting the pretty barmaid of the Horse Shoe Talbot, for she has assured us she would rather have tho potboy than such a spendthrift. Mrs. L— e, and daughters, to lay their money out in soap and soda, and wash their dirty blinds and steps. That would be better than buying blue veils for their bonnets. Mr. D— e, of Castle hill street, not to be seen at a certain house J— n H— s, of teetotal notoriety, not to be such a ninny at their meetings. Mr. T— g, of Castle Mill street, not to send so often to a house in Broadmeed. Mr. W. H—, of Sims's alley, not to boast so much about his pony. Do the thing that is right; it will look better than boasting. Mr. C— k, pawnbroker of the City, to look after; his business a little more. What does he want with bull- dogs, lap- dogs, and the like? Read, read a little more, Mr. C. DEVONSHIRE. PLYMOUTH.— A certain young lady, living near the Royal Hotel, not to be seen promenading in the citadel so often, for the purpose of meeting a young officer belonging to one of the regiments quar- tered there. STONEHOUSE.— Miss M. T— n, of Union street, not to be seen walking so often at Devil's point, with a young gentleman of Durn- ford street, as Paul knows it would not he approved of by her parents if they knew it. DEVONPORT.— Mrs. B— d, wife of . a^ liipwright, not to sip so much of the juice of the grape when'gbing her rounds with her butter and eggs; nor visit, a certain gin- palace in Fore street so often. Paul has his eye on you, Mrs. B. WILTSHIRE. WEST LAVRINGTON, NEAR DEVIZES.— Our jolly good fellow ( success to him), Teddy the Tailor, the next Sunday he hands the Bible to the Methodist visitor J. II—, to read after dinner, at tho P— rfarm, that he would beg of the said J. H. to read throughout the four following chapters: Isaiah, c. 47, Lamentations of Jere- miah cc. I & 2 Hosea c. 2, as being remarkably suitable J. H. above all present. Mrs. B. L— s, the next time she travels to London to get a worth- less demirep out of a scrape, and present herself before a magistrate, not to tell only a part of the truth, thereby ^ committing an irie- parable injury upon a man behind his back. SUNDERLAND. A certain nobby gent, who frequents the Ship inn, not to blush so much when the landlady's daughter enters the apartment. For shame, Diok! something strange must have passed' between you and her. Certain dressers and tailors ( assistants of course), likewise cut- lers and printers, to decline the profession of Thespians, and stick to their trades. It is not to spout Shakspere that their wages are paid. Mr. J— n, of the Fleece inn, not to keep his house open till day light in the morning. M— rs not to fancy that Miss L— s think? much of him, or that the trinkets he gaye her were really gold, 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. PAUL WISHES TO KNOW. Why Mrs. F— h, of the Ship and Lion, Ropemaker's fields, Limehouse, persists in calling herself the " model landlady?" Is it because she cleans her pots with tho twenty guinea watch and chain that she wears at the private box of the Pavilion ? Why Mr. E— of a certain public house at Hendon, near the pump, is not more civil to his customers— and, not if any one asks for a pint of beer ( forgetting to bring their jugs) tell them he cannot serve unless they go back for them ? Why that dirty little W. N—, of Mumford's passage, Greenwich, gets so beastly drunk as to be led home ? If W— m B— n, the death hunter, of Church fields, Greenwich, was thoroughly cured of his bad legs before he was married to the washerwoman with the ready- made kids ? Why Miss M— y H— 1, of Fairy's cottage, Woodford, Essex, goes so regular all the way to Walthamstow church every Sunday evening? Is there a loadstone over there ? Why Mr. A— r R— y, of the Forest, ^ altharnstow, cannot bring his young lady into church instead of letting her go in by herself, and waiting till the people are gone by before he goes home with her ? Is he not good enough for her ? She don't get her blue satin bonnets with ninepence a day. If W— m W— n, of Weybridge, the man who carries letters, has had an interview with a ccrtain servant girl he talks so much about? We are very sorry he is [ not allowed to deliver her letters personally. Whether it would not te a great deal better for J— n L— e, the used- up baker, late of High street, Windsor, but now living on his brother- in- law, to pay his creditors than scandalise his bosom friends? J— n, mind the doctor don'tgive you 3. pill for YOUR PAINS. How it is, that the Eton Pet don't marry B— y C— n? The little dear loves you ( so she says) and you know it too, " Duckey." Why the landlord of the Southampton Arms beer shop, in the Waterloo road, does not mind his own business instead of other people's? and likewise, when ho was last at a sale, what he bought, and if he borrowed the money to pay for it ? Why E. C— n, a certain farmer not twenty miles from the May Pole, at Barking side, when he is on his horse, does not mind his own business, instead of trying to covet what he knows is not his own ? Whether Mrs. T— r's son, at Mr. R— t's, undertaker, Stratford, has married in his right name? we know all about the north- side of the business. It will be well for her to leave off talking about the young girls. Whether Miss S— t, of Three Colt street, Limehouse ( hair dresser), procured that polka jacket she wears at any of the saloons she may have figured at as an actress (?)— if so, why not put it away with the rest of her wardrobe? If Mr. N— n L— e is aware of the doings of the check- taker of the City of London Theatre, in demanding sixpence from every female entering the boxes with an infant, and putting the sixpence in his own pocket ? This is done only with those who go in with free admissions. MARYLEBONE. This pretty little theatre was crowded with a merry audience last night; and the manager provided an entirely clean bill for them, the whole of the entertainment being new. The perfor- mances began with a five- act play, entitled " the Heart's Trials." The piece was well put upon the stage, and well performed— the two principal characters, by Mr. Davenport and Mrs. Mowatt. It was stated that the author is Mr. H. Hughes of the Adelphi. His play was quite successful last night; but we have some doubt whether it has life and bustle enough to keep it permanently afloat. It was followed by " Guy Fawkes ; or, A Match for a King," a most amusing burlesque of the Gunpowder Plot, mixing up the things of that day and of this^ in the irresistibly comio fashion which has made this order of entertainment so acceptable at the great annual holidays. PAUL PRY'S LETTER BAG- RIGS OP THE RACE- COURSE. THE NOBBLERS! As every day now tends to increase the interest always felt upon the " Great event of the year," we mean " The Derby," it behoves P. ul, as the " Reformer of the Age," to say a few words upon the - rtofithe numerous frauds practised upon the public nv those • • 1 I'^-.' ly it! ioili a " hilling; or anything bearing the ' ' ' i ' i. i. i ji a 1 i vf i Hiond by such means, in a > having properly, by its interference, put down the bare- faced system Of wholesale swindling, by which hundreds of families were ruined, viz., the Sweep- clubs, the scoundrels who were connected with them, and who contrived, by means we chall ex- plain in a subsequent chapter, to obtain a very decent living, are put to their wit's end to discover some means of still carrying on their nefarious games. One of the most conspicuous at the present moment, is rendered so from the boldfaced manner in which some of the publicans where clubs for large prizes were held, now adver- vertise to give and take the odds on all racing events of any im- portance. These individuals, at least the majority of them, are supported by a race of half- and- half black- leg, broken- down skittle- sharps, and playmen, whose trade was ruined when Sir James Graham wisely interdicted gambling at the races. These fellows are known by the significant term of" Nobblers," and are always to be found lounging about the bar and parlours of houses " where the odds are taken," waiting for strangers, whom they rob, after a. fashion that the law cannot grapple with. Unfortunately, one of the latest improvements in science— an improvement which has been found highly beneficial to the commercial interest, has been brought, into requisition by these scamps. We allude to the electric- telegraph. It is, therefore, imperative that no person in town should be induced to bet upon a steeple- chase, or race, after, or, if possible, within an hour prior to the possibility of the affair coming off. The reason must be obvious; by the assistance of the telegraph, the result of a race at Coventry is known in London, Manchester, Brighton, Bristol, and all the great towns, in a very few minutes! and the Nobblers, who always muster in great force at the sporting- houses on these occasions, are ready to pounce upon a victim. We will, however, illustrate our observations by a cir- cumstance that occurred a few weeks since to the writer of this article, at a well- known sporting- house in Long Acre. The land- lord was at the bar, surrounded by two or three of the " Nobbling crow," all known to Paul, but who assumed to be strangers. One fellow, dressed like a tradesman, accosted us after the following fashion: — First Nobbier. Pray, sir, do you know what has won the race? Paul. No, I do not; I have come to ascertain myself. Second Nobbier ( assuming not to know what had won). I'll take two horses against any other two, for an edge; I stand well on so- and- so, and so- and- so, and so- and- so ( here he enumerated several favourite horses, but taking special care not to name the winner—- but finding we would not bet, he says), I'll give anybody three. First Nobbier. I will take you. ( Paul here, of course, declined; but a second person who entered, a stranger, was not so fortunate, falling into the snare; for, after some little conversation, thus pro- ceeded the)— Second ( to the Stranger). I will give you the same, sir! " Agreed," says the stranger. The Nobbier, having given the odds, secures to himselfthe first choice, and knowing the winner, of course he never omits making him one of them. In this man- ner did Paul witness the money drawn from the pocket of a decent- looking man, and staked in the hands of the landlord, one of the gang. This occurred at about half- past four on the day of the Coventry Steeple Chase. The winner was known in London by three o'clock. It will, therefore, be necessary for this re- spectable landlord to be a little cautious, or we shall feel it our duty to publish his name and the sign of his house in full. Before closing the present article, we will give to our readers a list whiah we shall, with the assistance of our correspondents, continue every week, under the title of " LEVANTERS IN LITTLE." J— s H. E— s, late of the Fox and Peacock, Gray's inn lane, has never paid the money for Surplice for last year's Derby. P— s, late of Stanton, Shoe lane, 51. last Leamington steeple chase. B— s, the barber, Brooks market, bets on last year's Derby. C— s C— r bets on the Derby, 1847, late of the Crown, Clerken- well green. G— e R— e, the cutter up, in Drury lane, 51. on the late Chel- ' tenham Steeple Chase. B— s, late of Fetter lane, bets on last year's Derby and Si. Leger. C— r, of Hand- in- hand, Holborn, bets on last year's St. Leger. B— r, at the White Swan, Skinner street, bets on the St. Leger. LOLA MONTES' LETTER. DEAR PAUL— Any one possessing a heart capable of the slightest feeling for suffering humanity, must be struck by the great gulf which separates poverty from wealth ; and, while apathy and indifference are the marked characteristics which distinguish the rich and the lordly from the poor and the lowly, there also springs up the seeds of worse things from this un- hallowed ground than ever erring human nature has sown. While wealth, then, draws its own impenetrable circle all the closer against the longing, hungering gaze of the poor, it also looks upon that class, not only as the hewers of wood and the drawers of water, but as the source that ministers to their will— as the agents of their infamous pleasures. The cold and irri- tating superciliousness with which the patrician— born from the dregs of some harlot's blood, in the reign of a monarch as base as detestable, looks upon his plebeian neighbour; even while seeing ( hat his thin and hungry cheeks attest his famishing condition, merely looks upon it as a fact in statistics, but as a thing that he has nothing whatever to do with, is as hateful as it is abhorrent and inhuman. " Whatever is, is right," he holds to be a true motto, so long as his disgraceful pension is con- tinued. What shall we say of a man who drains his miserable tenantry of their every shilling, and leaves their houses a collec- tion of hovels unfit for the beasts of the field? Or of the rich county squire, who dares to turn a farmer from possession be- cause the daughter is virtuous, and resists his insolent requests ? and yet disgraceful as all this is, I only observe around me, wherever I cast my eyes, that, instead of a boiling, bitter, yet suppressed, indignation, there is a slavish obsequiousness, a base and degrading servility, paid in England ( pre- eminently) to whom- soever has money. I observe, that a man who made an enormous sum by questionable means in railways, was adored as a god, and that his worshippers presented him with a testimonial! In heaven's name, for what ? The man has been guilty of some act that, done by one of the wretched proletaries of the city, would have brought him to the bar of a police- court; this man, on the contrary, covered with obloquy as he is, takes his place as a mem- ber of parliament! This detestable tyranny, that runs through the squanderers of wealth and operates against the producers, is a vast moral disease, which is ramified and bound up in the very existence of the wealthy. Such w the condition by which they live and enjoy life. In order to mark their sense of the infamy of poverty, and their idea of the execrable manner in which it should be treated, they enact laws that repel, that crush, that create and punish crime at the same Instant. OtmAkiing with thooo, I find, in many instances, the de- cisions of magistrates, who are lenient to wealthy criminals, and who, when a poor culprit comes before them, make it a rule not to spare his pocket, while treating him with the rudest insolence. I knew a man, moving in the highest circles, who told me, as a fine jest, that he had just lost at cards the produce of a distraint sale of one of his tenants. By accident, I met this poor family, who had been turned out of a home held for three generations, applying for admission at the workhouse- door! I myself relieved them, and prevented them, at least for the time, from undergoing that horrible degradation. Another, a worthless, heartless gambler, and spend- thrift, kept a danseuse, whom I knew when I was engaged at the opera, and who bore a character for profligacy> nd rapacity I have not known to be exceeded, having forced his bailiff to rack the tenants on his estates, for he had had a noble heritage left him, in one night spent, in absolute debauchery, with this woman, and some other companions, the whole sum, which brought misery and the direst poverty upon the poor wretches who had so helplessly lain at his mercy. If I were not fearful of taking up too much of your valuable space, I could record instances of such civil and legalised atroci- ties that would raise the indignation of every swart son of labour throughout England. Yours, ASTLEY'S. The departure of Franconi's troupe from Drury Lane has left Mr. Batty with " no rival near his throne;" and certainly his suc- cess in eliciting aud exhibiting the proofs of docility, gentleness, and rare intelligence iu the horse has been such that Astley's may, in its highly trained steeds, challenge a comparison with any other establishment whatsoever. The new Easter spectacle is entitled the " White Maiden of California; or, The Horse of the Ocean." The scenes in the circle are, however, the favourite and distin- guishing entertainment at Astley's, and these were all successful. We may especially notice a spirited and daring act of equitation by Mademoiselle Louise Tournaire on a bare- backed horse, and the flying horsemanship of Herr Renric. But the crowning perform- ance of the evening was that of the young Hernandez, the Sir Charles [ Coldstreams of our modern civilisation. The spectator may preserve his equanimity tolerably well, as we did, when he sees this American youth performing all kinds of impossible feats upon his horse, after jumping over any number of banners held close together that you may like to name, alighting upon the back of his flying steed in any position you please, from Ajax de- fying the lightning to the youth picking the thorn out of his foot of classical sculpture, and always descending in the exact pose he intends to hit, with a precision that Perrot might envy upon the boards, and that Professor Keller would think himself fortunate in obtaining after some minutes' manipulation with an ordinary artist ; all these things may be borne without any serious impeachment of the cherished English principle of nil admirari; but when after undertaking a series of jumps back- ward of absurd difficulty, our ycung hero stands upon one foot, and pointing the other skyward considerably above the level of bis head, whips and screams to his horse like mad, and when finally, as the acme of daring, the youngster puts one foot on the saddle and the other upon the horse's head, and whips and screams to the af- frighted animal ten times more and than ever, the audience appear to find no relief from their sensations except in screaming and hurraing at the top of their voices like people possessed ; and a man considers himself comparatively phlegmatic if he finds him- self committing no greater an extravagance than standing upon his seat and shouting himself hoarso and red in tbe face. We have left ourselves no room to speak of the melodrama of the " Dumb Driver," tbe clever pantomimic action of Mr. W. H. Harvey, as Michael, the Pokantes of Mr. Johnson ( in the first piece), who, if we mistake not, is equal to better and greater things, and the drolleries of the clowns, Messrs. Rochez and Adrian. Let it be understood that the Easter novelties at Astley's will form a favourite entertainment for young and old. CREMORNE GARDENS. A very numerous, collection of holiday people were assembled in the gardens of Crcrnorne to witness the ascent of the balloon, under the management of Lieutenant Gale. The ascent took place in the presence of several thousand persons at half- past six o'clock. The gallant aeronaut performed the feat of descending from the upper ear to one lowered beneath it by a rope ladder, and discharged fireworks, & c., amidst the cheers of the spectators. The balloon took a direction towards Wimbledon, but was so soon lost in the clouds that it was impossible to conjecture to what point it was making. A variety of amusements followed the a- cent, and the festivities of the evening, consisting of fireworks, illuminations, theatrical and other performances, lasted till a late hour. The band is very good, and the whole of the arrangements are well managed and carried out. CORRESPONDENCE. LOLA MONTES. THEATRICALS. HAYMARKET. The " Brigand," with James Wallack for the hero, commenced the performance at this theatre on Easter Monday, and was fol- lowed by a new burlesque, written by the Brothers Brough, enti- tled " The Sphinx," founded upon tbe story of the fabled monster, from whose ravages Bceotia was delivered by the wit of ( Epidus. The dialogue is uncommonly smart, with puns of no common brilliancy freely interspersed. In the course of the piece, several songs and duets, arranged to popular airs, including some of the " Nigger Melodies," were introduced, and encores were demanded from Miss P. Horton and Miss Reynolds; in fact the whole of the performers, both great and small, exerted themselves . to the utmost, and the piece was highly successful. The comic drama of the " Rough Diamond" introduced Mr. Buckstone and Mrs. Fitzwilliam to the audience. It is not necessary to inform our readers that these popular comedians were enthusiastically wel- comed to the scene of their former triumphs. LYCEUM. " The Seven Champions of Christendom" is the Easter novelty at this theatre, and, without the aid of the fair lessee, was brought to a successful termination. Miss Kathleen Fitzwilliam is a host in herself, and capable, in our opinion, of carrying almost any piece, however trashy, to a triumphant finale. She is a gem of the purest water. Mr. Charles Mathews played the character of Wag, and enlivens the scene by his voluble singing. The piece is put upon the stage as all the Lyceum pieces are, reflecting the greatest credit on the management. PRINCESS'S. The fairy extravaganza of " Noureddin; or, The Fair Persian," was ushered into existence on Easter Monday, and was highly successful. It is full of puns, ton mots, and jokes, and is from the pen of a Mr. H. S. Edwards. ADELPHI. As far as regarded this theatre last night, the critic's occupa- tion was gone; for the managers, satisfied, it may be, with the returns which their current pieces are bringing them, did not think it necessary to furnish any new entertainment for Easter. The appearance of the house— it was quite full— would seem to justify the policy of the management, by showing that the bill, though it promised no novelty, did not lack attraction. *„* No letters whatever, town or country, containing more than one advice, can possibly be attended to; and all parties sending letters, mau depend upon seeing them inprint in their regular turn. PHILOS.— We shall shortly give a sketch of the Garrick's Head, and a complete history of all connected with it. JUSTICE.— Paul certainly thinks the Judge presiding at Bush's trial, in his summing- up, was anything but impartial, or that the jury were at all de- cent, on retiring to consider their verdict, with a fellow- creature's life in their hands, to waste but seven minutes of their precious time in considera- tion. If they had no moral doubt of the man's guilt— had tliey seen with our eyes, they would perceive a great legal doubt, which we should unques- tionably have given in the prisoner's favour. It is more righteous that ninety- nine guilty men should escape, than one innocent man should suffer. QUERY ( Barking).— If you will have the goodness to read our first notice, you will perceive the cause. Prior to the present week, we referred to teu miles round London. ROSALIND.— Love is like a flower; it requires gentle treatment and great nourishing; it sheds a holy halo round its possessor, and to the uncontami- nated sense, imparts a god- like ecstacy. We would advise you to be chary, for we are sure the person cannot lovo you as he ought if he importunes you on that point. Fiend, indeed, must that man be, who, after having gained the affections of a too- conflding girl, could seduce and then cast her off" a prey to fortune. * » *•— We have to apologise to our friend PAIR PLAY, of Shadwell, for not attending to his letter in an earlier number; and at the same time we may also apologise to our numerous friends for the same offence. We plead guilty; but the fact is, we were compelled to leave town for a provincial tour to establish agencies, etc., and entrusted our editorial functions in the hands of another, who has not, we are sorry to say, carried oul our plans. We, however, have returned; and our indulgent friends sliall find we are determined to make up for lost time. CHER AME.— If we were to insert one- half of the complimentary letters sent us, we should require a sheet of paper twice the size of our double number, ar. d really, though we candidly confess we are not used to blush, yet their contents would bring the colour to our cheeks, which would take full a fortnight ere the blood returned to its wonted course again. So convinced are wo of the good we have done, and of the vast amount that yet remains to do, and which wo intend to accomplish, that the mere act itself is sufficient payment, without tho innumerable quantity of soapy- letters left at our office. Still, we thank you, and are proud to acknowledge you a SINCERE FRIEND. TIDBUNS.— We certainly cannot agree with you; eating is all very well in its place, but as for being the greatest happiness a man can enjoy, we cannot exactly fall into your views. From your letter we take you to be a glutton, whose god is his belly. You are worse than a pig, sir— a great deal worse. A man blessed with intellect to talk of eating incessantly for four hours is worse than any beast we can name. Send us no more letters — we are ashamed of you. SOPHIA.— Pork chops are very nice, but we would not recommend you to persist in eating them when you know they do you barm. For a delicate young lady pork chops are anything but wholesome if eaten just before going to bed. MARY.— Keep a secret?— we rather think we can. We have thousands. of them entrusted to our care every week, and we can safely and confidently say that not a single one has ever been divulged by us. We hold a secret as a sacred thing, not as our own, but merely placed in our keeping to work out a benefit for the entrustor, anrl then for ever to be buried in oblivion. We only wish our fair friends had the moral courage Paul has in keeping secrets— we should have less scandal flying about. T ERRIFIC RECORD. One Penny Weekly. INTERESTING READING FOR ALL.— ALL FACTS. Nos. 1 to 9 now ready, and may be had of any bookseller in the kingdom. This is the largest and best Publication of the kind ; contains Thirty- two closely printed columns, splendidly Illustrated. CAUTION.— This being larger than any publication of the sort, some few venders or publishers of small, paltry publications have answered it, " Not ouV' or » " Out of print." This is false; as every number is kept in print, being stereotyped. Published by W. Winn, 34, Holywell- street, Strand; and all Booksellers. Printed and published for the proprietors by G. EDWARDS, at the office, 12, Russell court, Brydges street, Strand, where all communications to the Editor are to be addressed.