No. 39— NEW SERIES.] PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. NEW iSiw SERIES. PAUL M PRY I " IT IS A VIRTUOUS ACTION TO EXPOSE VICIOUS MEN."- DKTDHW. BY MRS. PKY. BI. ESS my heart, Mr. P., ( lo not drag a body through the mud in that dreadful manner. I dare say yof do wish to get home, and so do I; but Where's the necessity for leading one through puddles? You seem to take a delight in it— that you do. There you go again! Upon my word, I know I'm splashed all over, and 1 cant't hear pulling up my gown, for the fellows appear to have nothing to do but to quiz at the females' white stockings. There, Mr. P., look at that wretch, if he hasn't actually stuck his glass in his eye, and stands for all the world as if he doesn't carc a jot whether he gets wet through or not, staring at that young woman. — Enough to make him, is it ?— I dare say you're no better than you should be, or you'd never take the part of such a poor stupid; though I must confess it's anything but decent for a young girl like that to pull her clothes almost up to her knees. Well, for my part, I think he'd be much better at home with his wife, for 1 have not the slightest doubt but lie's a mairicd man; and married men, I have heard, are the worst, and I really do believe it.— You don't ?— I dare say not— of coursc you don't. This is u wet day, indeed; and, thanks to our patent rain defier, Mr. P., we shall reach home in a tolerably dry state, at least so far as the upper part of us is concerned. Butj Paul, dear Paul, for heaven's sake let us stand up for a while only, until this desperate shower has somewhat abated. — You're neither sugar nor salt, and won't melt away ? Well, who said you were? But then you'll please to remember, if I get my feet wet, more than they are at present, you'll have a doctor's bill to pay, as I am certain to catch cold.— Poor, delicate things t— We can't help being delicate— more's the pity we are so. If we were not, Mr. P., the wretches of men would not dare to impose upon us as much as they do. Can you inform me, Paul, why that white- headed gentle- man, almost bent double as he is, keeps following that young creature, with her petticoats drawn up far too high for my notions of decency? You don't say so? Why, the poor wretch has one foot in the grave already. Shame, shame on the white- haired dcbauchees, who, by the aid of their ill- gotten wealth— wrung, as it generally is, from the poor— lay traps to ensnare young females from the path of virtue. It's a rainy day, Paul, and all I wish for is, that it would pour iu torrents, and drown lain} so that the few years he would otherwiso live may bo cut off, and some few less crimes be added to his account. It's a great pity there's no law to punish these hoary- lieaded sinners; and if it were not that the law- makors are generally as bad themselves, we should precious soon have a change for the better. I tell you what it is, Mr. Paul, the best way to avoid the bold and insulting glances of the men who prowl about on a rainy day for the gratification of feeding a degrading appetite— I'd much rather get the tail of my best bran- new gown saturated with mud, than they should even catch a glimpse of my anklo. What's that? Who the deuce wants ? The time has been, Mr. P., when— but no matter. Here we are at our own door, right glad to find an asylum from the pelting, pitiless storm. THE FRAIL SISTERHOOD. PIVOINE. CHAP. X. THE E I B S T NIGHT. ( Continuation.) Tho horse started at a galop. But there was one thing which the student had not foreseen. This was, the effect which the biting atmosphere of the morning produced in ! him. The cabriolet had not travelled for three minutes, when Virgil already fancied he saw the houses on his pas- j sage dance a colossal reel. At the moment he aMghted at his door, he was so drunk that he could not stand. He : mounted the staircase, staggering, and still possessed with the fixed idea of possessing Pivoine, by fair means or foul. Arrived at his door, he knocked violently; the young girl j did not at first awake. He repeated it, with an oath; and it I was then we heard him exclaim, in bis elegant language;— | " Open! Sacredieu! or I'll demolish the barrack!" At the moment Virgil appeared before Pivoxne he wa3 frightful. His nose, of a fiery redness, prominently dis- played itself in his livid face, marbled here and there with purple spots; his eyes had a lecherous and bewildered ex- pression; his dress was hideously; disordered; and his legs trembled beneath him like reeds too feeble to support the weight of his body. The young girl scarcely recognized him. He endeavoured to assume a conquering air, and advanced with open arms, stammering out in an unintelligible manner, for his clammy tonguo stuck to the roof of his month ;— " ' Tis mo, lovely one—' tis me— the handsome Virgil! don't you think it genteel, to come like this— so early— to make love to my mate." He interrupted himself to lisp out a ballad that occurred to his mind, and which endeavoured to prove that making love was just as pleasing an entortainment by day as by night. He then attempted a pas de cancan, staggered, leant against a piece of furniture, again advanced towards Pivoine, and continued— " Come, my little Venus— come this way— and make haste — I have no time to waste— it won't do to play the prude like you did just now— in the name of a pipe— ah! no! no! Bah! — in place for the final galop— " Still, " Still, " At night— as well as day I I 1" Virgil almost touchod Pivoine: he lent forward to kiss her. The young girl, terrified, repulsed him with all her force. It did not require so much; the student lost his balance, attempted to save himself by the round table, which he drew with him in his fall, and rolled on the floor, where he struggled and cursed, and made useless efforts to rise. The poor girl, petrified with horror at this spectacle, so odius and so new to her, hastily seized the little bundle which she had thrown into a corner on her arrival, gained the door, which had remained half open, descended tho staircase and fled into the street, taking, without knowing it, the direction of tho place St, Michael. PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. 200 CHAP. XI. TO THE GOOD FAITH. Thc sky was clear and cloudless, the air cold and cutting, and thc frost had dried up tho mud, even in the dirty lanes of tho city. Pivoine, walking at hazard, reached the neighbourhood of the Hotel do Ville, advanced into the inextricable network of the adjoining narrow streets, and, comparing the lofty an d sombre houses before her with what she had been told of the marvels of Paris, she fancied herself the sport of some unlucky dream, and fresh tears bedewed he eyes at the re- splendant remembrances of the landscapes of her Normandy. * ******* At the end of two hours thus passed, the young girl felt that she was hungry. She had six sous remaining. She stopped, before a baker's shop and fumbled in her pocket. This pocket was empty. Pivoino then remembered that during the preceding night, she had placed her little fortune on thc student's chimney piece, and that it had not occurred to her to take it when she fled. " What am I to do? Beg? better to suffer! better to suffer!" she thought. At this moment she raised her eyes, and saw before her on the opposite side of the street, a large sign bearing these words in white letters on a black ground:— « TO THE GOOD EAITH. " PAMELA CARCAN, GENERAL DEALER; " Buys and sells garments of loth sexes, new and second hand; body and table linen, old carpets, hats, shoes, and every sort of wearing• apparel." On each side of the door hung, ostentatiously displayed, some sordid rags, worn- out frocks, ragged petticoats, unser- viceable pantaloons, & c. Thc store room, as well as could he judged from the exte- rior, consisted of a black and dusty hole, from which escaped scents, anything but odoriferous of the violet. Pivoine looked at the little bundle she held in her hand, and thought she might, by selling its contents, procure some money. It is true that afterwards she would only possess the clothes she had on her; but, when hunger speaks, every other consideration must he silent. She entered. As she crossed the threshold, a sort of growl was heard from behind an immense heap of rags, and a woman ap- peared, with harsh features, and her hand on her hips. The creaturc was short and stout; her bloated face exhi- bited the purple tints of the cabaret wine; her chin, dotted with little bunches of grey hair, descended on her flabby and monstrous bosom, which, deforming by its weight the corsage of a horrible robe, hung almost to her waist. The young girl stopped, almost dismayed at tho aspect of Pamela Carcan, for tho amiable portrait we have endea- voured to sketch, was that of the brokeress herself. " What do you want, girl ?" demanded the latter, in a voice husky with brandy. " My God— Madame—" timidly replied Pivoine, " I saw — I thought— I am come to propose to you"— " You have something to blcach ?" suddenly interrupted the brokeress. Pivoine mistook the meaning of those words, and replied: " No, Madame— I wish to tell you"— " Eh! by God, ' tis just tho same! Come, let's see the traps!" " You say, Madame?" " I say that you will show me the goods." " Here they are." And Pivoine, placSig on the counter her little bundle, undid the knobs of the handkerchief that contained them, and displayed its modest contents. The brokeress examined, with an air of sovereign con- tempt, the different portions of the packet, and said, making a significant gesture:— " Is this all?" " Yes, Madame." " A handsome cargo, my faith! What do you ask for this wardrobe?" • " What do you choose to give me, Madame?" " In the first place," resumed the dealer thus placed at her ease, " the whole lot is not worth picking up in the street. There isn't a hussey in all Paris would think it good enough to carry on her trade with— I offer you three francs." " Take them, Madame," murmured the young girl, who was now only in a hurry to hasten from this infectious den. Pamela, surprised to find accepted without dispute the wretched price she proposed, and which did not represent the tenth part of the real value of the articles, fixed on Pivoine a stupified regard, and with difficulty restrained a strong exclamation. Then, enchanted at the affair she had just concluded, she took from a shelf a large book, dirty, and much used, opened it, dipped in a cup filled with a sort of black mud, the stump of a pen, and pushed towards Pivoine the pen and the large book. " What must I do, Madame?" enquired the young girl astonished. " What a question! write your name and your address." " My address?" " The placo where you lodge, then." " But, Madame— I lodge nowhere." " Bah!" " I am just arrived in Paris, and I know no person." Had a thunderbolt fallen at Pivoine's feet, it would have plunged her into a more complete stupor, than didnot Jesuit of the simple words she had just pronounced. Pamela Cal- can, giving to the features of her countenance the expression of a fury, advanced towards her, her fist ex- tended, her eye on fire, and crying with all the strength of her lungs:— " Ah! you slut! ah, you thief! ah, you wh—! you have no domicile, and you come like a Saint Nitouche to try to sell your rags to honest people, to bring them into trouble. ' Tis not with Mother Carcan you can come such a dodge, you shall know that, my girl; I will get you scagged, and t'wont weigh an ounce! Come, come, on route, and to the Commissaries." " But, Madame"— stammered Pivoine, who began to weep " File in. front," croaked tho harridan, interrupting her, " and stow your chaff, or I'll find the way to make you." j In order to make our readers comprehend the motives of this incredible scene, it is right to let them into tho secrets of the antecedents of the honourable brokeress. Pamela Carcan, besides her profession of a general dealer, united to it, with thc greatest success, that of a purchaser or receiver of stolen goods. Indeed, this was the source of her greatest profits. Slie confined herself, however, to one speciality in this kind of operations, carefully avoiding all acquaintance with thieves of the most daring nature, and cultivating that class of rogues, who, rejecting, as too dangerous modes, burglary and housebreaking, practice escroquerie or swindling, and addict themselves, by means of false names and professional borrow ing, to the safer system of plundering, such as lace, silks, cloths, & c., from confiding and duped merchants. For these paregoric rascals, Pamela Carcan had always in reserve a heap of compliments, of attentions, and of five franc pieces. But, despite her skilful precautions, tho police had got scent of certain clandestine transactions, and a few days before thc period of which the facts we are narrating, took place, Pamela had been favoured with a seat, with a numerous company, on tho benches of the correctional police. Unfortunately, for want of evidence, the judges of the sixth chamber found themselves obliged to acquit tho accused of tho charge. The lesson, however, had been serviceable, and Pamela had sworn to be more wide- awake for the future. Thus she eagerly embraced the opportunity that presented itself of displaying her virtuous zeal and her unsullied honesty in tho eyes of M. the Commissaire of Police of her quarter, by de- monstrating to this magistrate that she preferred missing a good job, than to violate, even slightly, the regulations of thc police. Pivoine was about to become the innocent victim offered up as an holocaust to tho great renown of Madame Carcan. But, suiting the gesture to the words, and repeatingwitli a fresh burst of rage:— " File, and stow your chaff, or I strike! tho latter prepared to push into the street the weeping girl, when a new per- sonage entered the shop. CHAPTER XII. MONSIEUR AND MADAME CARCAN. The last comer, ( a singular phenomenon) presented a typo of a more repulsive ugliness, if possible, than that of the mistress of the den. He was a sort of dwarf, supporting on two short and crooked legs, a thick, square breast, surmounted with an enormous head. This head, which nature seemed to have destined to crown the shoulders of some Titan, borrowed its principal attractions, in the first place, from a false eye of enamel, always motion- less in its deep orbit; and next from a long and yellow tooth, which, half projecting from his mouth, raised the upper lip in the most hideous fashion. He might have been named Quasimodo, saving indeed the terrible poesy, shed by our great poet over the gnome of his Notre- Dame. This personage had on his head a large turban of white calicot, a white jacket, and a large apron half tuckcd up, com- pleted his costume. " Ah! you are come then, M. Carcan," said the old hag, on seeing him. " In person, dear mate," replied the dwarf, affecting a jovial manner of the oddest effect; " called as usual, you see, just to say good morning on passing, Pamelal" " You are come in the nick of time." " How fortunate!" " Take care of the cassine, whilst I get rid of this creaturc here." _ Pivoine redoubled her sobs. M. Carean fixed upon her his only eye, which immediately took fire. " Eh! eh! eh!" said he, " what has the girl done, then?" " That's no business of yours." " A thousand pardons, Madame Carcan, hut as I am your legal, I recognise in myself the right to question you, and you know how I make my rights respected, my dear friend." " Well then, this is it." And the brokeress, obeying the half threat of M. Carcan, recounted what we already know, a recital interrupted with many invectives against poor Pivoine, whom tho dwarf continued to regard with his fixed and fiery look. " Is that all?" he demanded, when she had finished. " ' Tis not enough, perhaps?" " Madame Carcan, this susceptibility docs you tho greatest honour, it gives me pleasure to declare it, but it grieves me sorely! there is not enough to whip a cat for." " Ah! you think so." " Yes, I think so, therefore pay the girl, who is genteel all over, and let her file." " That's your idea." " That's my idea." " Well, ' tis not mine, tlion." " So much the worse." " I was taking her to the Commissaire's, and I will take her there." " You thipk so?" " I'm sure of it, and not later than this moment. Come, march." " Madame Carcan! Madame Carcan! Have a care, 1 forbid you to budge." " You?" " Me." " You forbid me?" " Plainly." " A fig fpr your orders!" " Ah! a fig is it?" " Very well." " We shall see." And whilst speaking, the dwarf took a broom handle from tho corner of the shop, and twirled it rapidly, as if on the point of bringing it to alight on Madame's shoulders. No doubt, Pamela Carcan had more than once experience1! the good effects of this domestic instrument in the hands of her husband, for she instinctively contracted her shoulders, gave vent to a series of frightful oaths, and finished by exclaiming:— " Man monster! to think I must always do as he likes ah! brigand! I give in, but you shall dio by my hand alone.' " Most tender wife, I accept the prophecy— on condition of having my revenge. For the rest, now that you are become reasonable I'll surrender Vigourous." Vigourous was the broom handle, which M. Carcan replaced in its corner. The brokeress, swallowing with much difficulty her inward rage, opened a drawer, counted three francs in gros sous ( or penny pieces) and throwing to Pivoine this mass of coin said to her, and displaying her two fists:— " Get out, you wretch, and quickly! and mind I don'- catch you again." The young girl thought herself saved, and rushed into the street. " Good day, Pamela, good day," said the dwarf grinning " you are a most adorable spouse, and I am your humble servant with all my heart! on my word of honour! Give my respects to Vigourous." And, after sending his wife from the tips of his finger, derisive kiss, M. Carcan left in turn, and followed the pretty Normande. " Matched, are some pairs, In marriage affairs:" Says a song become proverbial. And whether true or paradoxical, the saying found a splendid confirmation in the union of the man and his wife, just introduced to our readers, Never, perhaps, had the official scarf of a mayor or his deputy consecrated the union of two moral and physical uglinesses so perfectly matched, and so worthy of each other, ( To be continued in our next.) MR, AND MRS. PRY'S VISIT TO HIGHBURY BARN. After the fatigues of the week, Paul thought himself en- titled to a little recreation; and, accordingly, last Sunday, walked his corpus, accompanied by Airs. Pry, to the above delightful retreat, where shopmen, apprentices, masters, journeymen, lawyers'- clerks, stay- makers, collar- stitchers, blond- runners, shoe- binders, dross- makers, and, in fact, almost every class of persons repair to spend what " tin " they can afford, and to sport their best " togs!" And don't they cut it fat? Paul was stunn'd! There was Sam T— r^ the book- binder, such a swell! with his Ureka shirt and Hydrotobolic tile. He really did look quite the cheescl How he does it we can't tell; but that's no affair of ours. Then there was Mr. F— by,— didn't he cut a shine with his pannus- corium boots, andj" fawney," and cigar- case fill'd with cheroots. How lie does it, on fifteen bob a week, Mr. P. can't tell, and her Paul can't do it in the same style, for double that amount. Then there was the greengrocer's son of Theobald's- road; he'd got a " gal" with him, whom he was treating to port wine negus, which caused Mrs. Pry to observe that " there must be a great profit attached to carrots, to say nothing about' taters.'" Then came thc two Miss Daisies, theblond- runners. atCopestake's, dressed up to tho " nines." Mrs. Pry said they looked verywcll; but that the eldest Miss Daisie had a small " tater " in the heel of one of her stockings. For my part, I confess, though I did examine that part of their person, / couldn't see any hole. Then there was Miss Sparks, the laundress, who has the honour of getting up Mr. and Mrs. Pry's linen— she ( fid look nice! If Mrs. P. had not been with me, I think I should have " bucked up " to her. Paul felt very sorry for an old acquaintance, viz.:— Harry B— r, of the East- end, who styles himself a dancing master. On the Friday previous, he had bought ( down the Lane) a " better as new " coat, and a pair of second- hand crab . shells. We were admiring the cut, and asking the price, when our mischievous nephew parted the skirts and displayed to our view a large patch in the hinder part of his kicksies. Poor B— r, looked as if he would have sunk into his second- hand canoes. Verily, this Highbury Barn does make a vast difference in the gait of some people. One of Mr. Smout's men ( of Gray's- inn- lane, butcher) was among the throng; lie thought himself somebody, and yet he didn't seem quite at oase, and Mrs. Pry said, " she thought his ' smalls' were too long in the eruteli." Now look at Jim Lyons, watch jobber, with his dear little wife, in the best of spirits, and smoking his long clay. Bravo, James! you do it up brown! Mrs. Pry was happy to see you enjoy yourselves and trusts you won't overrun the constable. Then you should see the waiters! my eyes! why they wear livery coats! and you have to remember them every time they serve you with a glass of grog. Mrs. P. and I, drank twelve goes, and dropped a penny each time to the gentlemen in livery. It hadn't used to be so when Paul was a young man; but wc were told it was the custom there, and as we like to be liberal when we do go out, we paid it; yet we could'nt help thinking it very strange, and that it was a very good dodge on the part of Mr. Hinton the proprietor. Waiters, too, used to be civil in Paul's young days, but now, d n it! at these places they put themselves on a footing with the customer, and if you dont remember them, they don't forget to " cheek " you. We were delighted with the superb display of pictures in the long rooms, and felt ourselves greatly refreshed by our rambles round the truly beautiful gardens. We have no doubt Mr. Hinton does his best to render his patrons com- fortable, but there are two very essential things that he must not lose sight of; viz. to discharge any waiter who has been abusive, because it is not convenient to the paj- ty he serves to remember him; and, what is quite as important, when folks order hot grog, to lot them have it hot, Mrs. Pry complained bittlorly of the latter neglect, she is such a woman for hot grog. We shall pay Highbury Barn another visit before the season closes, when we shall not forget to notice any improve- ment ; and may have occasion to reckon up a few other worthies who use this: place. The COFFEE- SHOPS of BRIGHTON. SEEING life has, for the last few years, been construed into visiting all the lowest scenes of debauchery that large towns invariably exhibit. We shall only glance, for the present, at some of the abominations with which Brighton abounds. Perhaps there are none so hurtful to the morals as the dens which exist in Duke- street, Princes- street, Edward- street, and other streets " there and thereabouts." We shall, on the present occasion, notice the one in Duke- street, warning the proprietor of the half- dressmaking, half- coffee establish- ment, in Princes- street, to beware. Tho place is even a nuisance to the Golden Cross, whose inhabitants, we think, are not over sensitive in their feelings. At the Coffee and Cigar Saloon, in Duke- street, assemble the worthless and depraved, and not seldom are to be seen young men who have characters to lose: did they remember the true maxim, " You may know men by the company thuy keep," they would not b » found in this sink of iniquity. At these rooms, singing ( accompanied by a piano) and recitations take place from a raised platform, some of which are positively shock- ing to decency. After which the begging commences, and a dirty hat goes round for the benefit of the vocalist. The articles sold here, as might he expected, are very indifferent; the prices not out of the way, threepence a cup being charged for coffee. The patrons are gents and fast men, who sport cut- awy coats and light vests; wear stunning satin cravats, adorned by rubies or carbuncle pins, or by stained glass ones that read tho part of rubies at short notice, aud hope for the usual indulgence. Old men, too, are here, grown hoary with sin and vice. We have actually seen a respectable tradesman ( barring his immorality, & c.), far advanced in years, toying with a couple of the most abandoned prosti- tutes ; while, at a table opposite, sat his son, doing the like. Shame on thee, thou old sinner: without you quickly re- form, we will give to an indignant public the history of thy disgraceful amours: thou art a dishonour to thy age— hast doubtless brought up thy child " in the way he should not go ;" in thine own vile opinion; ponder well that " Death destroys not the soul, but an ill life does." Public- houses are compelled to close at 12 o'clock, in Brighton. Why, then, are unlicensed coffee- shops allowed to keep open all night? They are thc rosort of thc worst of characters, and kipt by persons who have nothing to lose, either in purse or reputation. Tho sooner they are put down, or annihilated altogether, the better. Licensed victuallers, being under the surveillance of thc police, are generally tolerably conducted. Place coffee- shops under the same control, and the nuisance would be quickly abated, if not entirely abolished. STRANGE RESOLUTIONS. A friend of ours, who is intimate with Mr. Harris, informs ns that he ( Mr. H.) is resolved not to allow any children of his_ to study Lindley Murray. Mr. Fox Cooper is resolved not to engage a company, unless he can tip according to agreement!! « PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. 3 PAUL ADVISES The Misses B— e, of Church- street, Stoke Newington, not to imagine that every young man who may happen to look at them are desperately in love with them. M. M— y, at the butter- shop, in Tooley- street, not to meet the tailor in the Borough and say she has been to her sister'r. ;:., •-. '. ! Mr. G— m, not to be seen sneaking into a certain post- man's house, in Flush- row, Pimlico, at eleven o'clock at night. W. G— ff, jun, alias the " Amalgamated," and " Fop," of the County- court, Wandsworth, to keep himself more select, and not visit the pastry- cook's, nor walk with such conse- quence. Remember two years back, Willy. 0. R— s, of Warwick- street, Regent street, to conduct his professional business respectably, and be sure not to issue writs without previous notice. Mr. E. B— 1, shoemaker, of High- street, Kensington, to be less conceited, and chat less with the " gals." People should neverape the gentleman v^ Ito have neither manners normoney to maintain their false pcisition. That conceited, chattering old B— s, of Hack ney- road, not to visit old Brieky Rouse's Eagle Tavern quite so much. How about Mother Jones, ch? The swaddy- landlord, of the Sir Walter Scott, Hackney- fields, to trim his whiskers, and be more civil to his cus- tomers. The landlord, of the Cat and Mutton, to sell better Stuff, and he will get more custom. The two young ladies, at the baker's- shop, in Tufton- street, not to stare at all the young men who pass their win- dow, as if that were their employment. Tho pedagogue, at the Institution, Southwark- bridge- road, to pay more attention to his pupils, and not boast so much on board the Gravesend boats. " W. G—, of the Rising Sun, Mount Pleasant, not to spend the whole of his money on Sunday night, and then depend upon his father for grub the remainder of the week. Mrs. P— t, alias " Long Tongue," not forty miles from South Lambeth, New Road, to attend more to her soap- suds, and not be seen so often with her head out of the window sifting other people's business. M. A. H—, the housemaid, not far from Clapton- pond, to leave off wearing the yellow ribbon, ere she writes love let- ters to young men. The little carpenter, of Ttilse- hill, to wear a proper moustache and leave off chewing tobacco, and then he may get a young woman to walk out with; and likewise to learn good English ere he attemps to jabber bad French. The bar- maid, of the Hampshire Pig, Strand, to be civil to her master's customers, and always give good measure. Mr. J. G— n, of Exeter- street, Strand, to stop at home and attend to his mother's business, and not strut about March- mont- street, Burton- crescent, and at the same time turning his eye on a certain butclier's- shop. S. R— n, of Wych- street, Strand, not to brag so much about his bricklaying. T— r, of Russell- court, not to boast so much about his money, as Paul don't credit everything he says. Miss M. S—, at a certain printer's, in Bow- street, Covent- garden, to attend more to her good- tempered mistress and less to her curly- headed errand boy. W. D— k, late pot- boy, at the Garden- hotel, Co vent- garden, not to think so much of patent leather boots, but pay his debts before he thinks of cutting a swell. L. B—, of Eaton- square, to pay every attention to that short magpie that is the cause of so much confusion in the establish- ment. Miss M. N—, of the Walnut- tree, St. Alban's- street, Lambeth, to be more circumspect in her conduct. Mrs. C— l, publican, of Wild- street, Lincoln's- inn- ficlds, not to cast sheep's eyes at the butcher opposite. Mr. E— s, of Stanhope- street, not to be seen drinking in his shop with married women. Mr. M— r, the manager of Pym's Theatre, Gough- stre et to send to our office an order for two, for the next private performance, that Paul may pay h visit, and report progress. PROVINCIAL. KENT.— Miss C— r, of Deptford, to stay at home and not run after E. M— s, of Hamilton- street, and tell everybody he is dying in love with her. Miss IC— 1, of Stockwell- street, Grecnwicli, to conduct her- self with propriety and not be seen throwing letters out of the window, nor be seen so often with a Mr. L. H. M, the bricklayer's soifof Smith's- court, Seven Oaks, not to swell about the town with females of questionable character, but to; attend to the girl at Godden- green. T, H— s, Groom at the Seven Oaks, not to parade the town with a flower garden in his coat, and not to take another boy up for plucking a rose. Beware, Tom, for the future, or you may be served as you were at Twnbridge Wells. The Miss N— s, of the Broadway, Deptford, not to talk from the bed- room window to those two hoys jj— t and D, B- e. Miss G— r, of the Broadway, Deptford, not to go out to meet those two little boys R— t and P— e. Mr. S— m, of the Royal Kent Dispensary, Deptford, the next time he takes his young lady for a walk down Edward's Lane, if she be so unfortunate as to fall into a ditch to try and help her out, instead of standing and saying, " How could you be so stupid, my dear?" The landlord of the King's Arms, Greenwich, not to allow his barmaid to be impudent to his customers. On a visit to the above house the other evening we perceived in front of bar, dandy N— n, Jerry, fat Jerry, Stayless Dick, Salmon- faced. A— t, and P— k, with several nymphs from Gutta Pcrcha Row. R. L—, engineer of tho Kent Waterworks, Deptford, not to be seen out with an old Irish widow. It would not cor- respond with his former conduct when he gave up that re- spectable young woman of Dark- street, Greenwich, to please his relations, and not to insult people before paying his debts. R. F. M— 1, of Clarence- Street, Greenwich, not to be so conceited. T— s, the butcher, of Dartford, not talkLabout his neigh- hours. Mr. Bouncc, the foreman of tho boiler maker's, at the Foundry, Dartford, to pay his public- house score before he struts about. DORSETSHIRE.— W. B— d, of High- street, Poole, to pay more attention to home and not wander down the street to " have a peep in the draper's shop. That joiner fellow of PoOle, not to make so much noise at Church with his counter as he calls it. L. P— n, of Longflcet, Poole, not to be seen with J. K— p, the sportsman. - Mr. A. H— 1, to seek a more retired spot for his lovers' walks. Mr. H. B. C—, of Poole, not to visit the Slate Bagatelle- room so much. Tom R— 1, the next time he takes his girls on the water to take care where he anchors the boat, as Paul thinks the poor things get well wet, without having to walk in up to their knees. » The old maids of Bridport, to be very careful and leave off scandalizing the young folks of the town, or Paul will give them a poke in the ribs. The little barber, in E— street, Bridport, not to take down his pole on a Saturday night to make people believe he's religious. W. U— 1, at the drapers, not to lie stingy but to pay his share of tbe expenses when he goes to a pic- nic party. Miss J. S-- h, of Bridport, not to flirt with Mr. B—, the watchmaker. W. G— d, alias " Bonus," at II— t's, to shave off his staw- coloured whiskers' before he goes round the town, matching. The conceited fop, at the draper's, in E- vSt. reet, not to go over to Symondsbury so often, as Augusta will have nothing to say to him. MIDDLESEX.— G. N— y, of Harrow, not to serve in his father's shop with gold studs, California!! watch- chain, and an eye- glass as it does not become a young man in his station of life. The curly- headed draper, of Uxbridge, not to think quite so much of himself, as the ladies think but little of him. T. W— r, of High- street, Uxbridge, not to fancy every girl is in love with him, but to make it all right with Miss J— s as soon as possible. The red- haired draper's- assistant, of Uxbridge, not to pay so much iittention to his masters' sister, as she cares little about him. Mr. M— y, at the George Inn, to keep his youngest daughter at home and away from the ninth- part of a man. Mr. M— y,. of High- street, to stay at home and attend to domestic duties. S. T— e, of Ilamworth, not to bo seen talking to every young woman that passes the door of his lodgings; and to go to bed early on Saturday night, that he may be enabled to get up to dinner on Sunday. J. J— b, baker, and would- be gardener, of Hamworth, not to think more of himself than other people do. ' W. P—, the old milkman of Teddington, to make haste and deliver his milk, and by all manner of means never to chuck servant maids under the chin. A. D—, the shop- girl, of the little milliner's of Teddington, to give her mistress' customers a pleasant look and not fancy the postman, with his brass chain and nobby head of hair. SURREY Mr. W— e, tho little snob, . of Kingston, not to go sleep in church, on a Sunday, but look after his good lady. Miss S. B—, chamber- maid, at the Castle- inn, East Monl- sey, to pay more attention to her own business, and not be seen talking with the waterman's apprentice. BRIGHTON.— J. S—, of Wood- street, Brighton, not to slight the little servant of York- place, and to mind what he is about with the lady in the black cloak. Mr. G— t, of Castle- square, to be satisfied with the liberal profits allowed newsvenders by the journals, and not charge sixpence for the Chronicle and other London papers, and six- pence halfpenny for Sunday editions of the Sunday Times, fyc. Less avarice and more civility would increase your trade. BERKSHIRE.— R. W— t, the tce- totaler, of Horn- street, Reading, to stop at home and mind his own business and not trouble himself with other peoples'. NEWCASTLE- HPON- TYNE.— R. A. of the Leazes- lane, to pay more attention to his- poor father and mother, and spend less of his money at a crib in High Friars- street. George, brother of the above, to wear his trousers a little longer as we think it does not look well for a boy, nearly six feet high to wear his trousers half up his legs. J. R— e, of Stowell- strect, not to wear a brass watch- chain without a watch. J. B— r, of Newgate- street, to get his friend, Mr. Douglass, to teach him to sing tho " Bay of Biscay " a little better ere he attempt to sing it at the Phoenix Concert: we think he could better manage the Old Hundredth Psalm at tho Lec- ture Room in Nelson- street, best. II. B— s, alias Sandy, the wooden- legged spice- nut baker of Dean- street, not to get drunk, nor to boast of seducing a young woman in the High Bridge. How about the tea- cups ? J. A— n, another of the spicy tribe, not to poke his long hose into other people's affairs, and try to get into his master's favour, because its all no use. How about the battel? J. W— e, of Market- street, not to cut such a swell, but to pay for his last two hats. How about Miss W— p? We ex- pect to be invited to the wedding dinner. SOUTH- SHIELDS.— Miss D. N. R-, not to be seen walking with ( you know who), as he is in the habit of re- ceiving letters from R. T, residing in London. W. H— n, of King- street, not to be seen with the girls of Green street so much, for fear of the consequences. W. R— d, of King- street, not to talk so much of his new coat and vest. J. S— d, of Maket- place, to use a little Bear's grease to his head, as he looks so like a water- dog with it bare be hind. It would be advisable to begin next Sunday. W. II—, alias Billy from the West, not. to cut it so fat with the stripe- dovvn- the- side Trousers, for its only a piece of tape. ' R. D—, the draper, alias Shy lock, not to he seen t^ ith the silly cobbler. W. L—, alias the Darkey, not to wear a top coat in summer, for you don't look smart in it. Miss L., Fowler- street, not to encourage J. C. at her house, so late at night. II. A—, alias Dirty Clean, not to brag so much of his jumping and running, and to keep from the draper's servant. J. 0—, not to attempt to make himself sillier than he is; nor to take anybody off in King- street, my beauty. AY. M—, tailor, not to boast so much about lii's four and nine. You'd much better better pay the man the ninepence for cleaning it. M. V—, of King- street, not to imagine he has got married on the sly, as everybody is aware of it.- ESSEX.— G. A—, formerly a baker of Woodford, late a carpenter, at Cliingford, to return home to his smart little wife and two children, if she will allow him, and to cut the well known strolling player's daughter of Stratford. Mr. W. N—, hairdresser of Woodford, not to practice running ill the forest, but stay at home and rock the cradle. CORNWALL.— A landlady on the Truro- road, not to allow her customers to take liberties with her husband's private provcrty; and one near the Old Bridge, to leave off taking so much B. B. A certain lady to leave off practising the dupe on her husband, to pay more attention to her children and loss to the gents on the Truro- road. A gent at C— Town, to pay more attention to his hand- some wife, and less to the wife of a master of a vessel. The innkeeper of C— Town, to be careful, as Paul is on tho look- out for the bencfit. of society. SHEFFIELD.— The West- end barber's wife to keep her Hubby at home, and not allow him to go to Retford Little Charley, the heavy swell, not to be indignant when he appears in our pages, and to take up less of th causeway. GLASGOW.— Mr. II— n, of Ayr, to conclude his long and interesting courtship, and enter into the sober duties of the married, state. Paul will be most happy to announce the marriage. G. M— h, of M— s, alias Judge Macfarlane, not to boast of his writings in Paul Pry for every body knows- nothing of his has ever appeared in his columns. Don't run after your father's servants. PAUL IN THE PLAYHOUSE. VICTORIA. We dropped in here on Monday evening, and found the pieces to consist of the usual melo- dramatic caste, for which this place stands pre- eminent. The Vincentonian capers are in the ascendant, supported by the entire strength of tho talented company. The Warning of Fate, or the Lovers of Mossdalc, was the first part of the performance; and if we must judge of the acting by the applause bestowed upon M essrs. Johnson, Laws, Henderson, Eorrnan, Henry, and Misses Vincent and Burroughcliffe, then, indeed, we should say it was first- rate, " Conception is a blessing; but not as ye shall conceive." Mr. Cony, and his dog, Hector, wound up the performances; and wo came away with the impression that poor Hector played his part iu a manner that would do credit to some of the performers of this establishment to copy. The house was filled, of course; the company con- sisting of the very worst description with which the New- Cut abounds. SURREY. This beautiful theatre is nightly increasing in popularity; and with such operas as The Favourite, with Messrs. Travers, Weiss, Leffler, and Misses Romer and Poole, to sustain the principal characters, cannot fail to attract. The pleasing burletta of Midas, supported by Miss Poole, Mrs. Weiss, Mr. Horncastle, and Delavanti, is performed every evening, and is received with that applause these talented artistes so richly deserve. The management, in catering for the public, is liberal in the extreme, and fully merits that support which is nightly showered upon it. THINGS THAT MAKE US LAUGH IN POOLE. Billy B— d's swallow- tailed coat, and gooseberryfied chin. Misses H— r's sack- bag capes and monster bustles. Joe lv— t's donkey- cart halfpence. Charley L— y's sunburnt physog. Jeiemy H— y's Lilliputian sisters. Fop W— U's silver mounted cane. Miss G— y's cholera fright. Mr. W. P— rr's ah! ah! ah! ah! William A— y's tea saucer eyes and spectacles. W. II. B. C— m's public apology. Poopey T— r's pumpkin nose. Jim D— d, thinking himself everybody. Tailor S— e, going to see Prince Albert. Wadley P— e, High- street, turning a flour- dealer. E. T— n, High- street, being the smallest of the whole family, thirteen in number. Doctor L— y's shabby straw hat. Spectacle Jack A— y, lowering himself to carry a horse- collar up the High- street. Tailor S—' s plca^ ire goose being a good swimmer, Paul thinks it likely to carry off the prize. H—' s pill- pox, being built of light material, is, we believe, to come in second. Tom R—' s mash- tub, being so logey with grains, swipe?, & c„ Paul is very much afraid, will be left in the lurch. Twig Ben M—' s small zinc entrance plates. THINGS THAT MAKE US LAUGH IN BRIDPORT. The bookseller's wife and daughters, not ono hundred yards from the post- office. How is Georgy and his corked moustache? The vagaries and freaks of poor, pitiful, It. T— r, the warehouseman, near the 1' ackhorseInn. Notice to Musicians of Bridport, of whatever Bank, Talent, or Station!— from the player on the Jew's harp and hurdy- gurdy, to the professors of " counterpoint and harmony." Also to wandering professors of French, & c, board and lodging gratis! Apply at Mr. C— k's, druggist, or rather Mrs. C. and " dear Eliza."— N. B- No tales told if the " Pro- fessors" be not " possessors," as Mrs. C. wishes to be thought a patroniuer of 1 alent. THE SHARPER. When the Sharper has bolted, and left not a name Nor address that is likely to find him; How little he thinks if his tailor may blame, That he left such a long bill behind him. On board the sv ift steamer he paces the deck, And his slops grows perceptibly bolder; No longer he dreads every moment a cheek, From that horror— a tap of the shoulder. No! away with such thoughts, his cheroot he may light, With a blithe heart he leans o'er the gunnel. And he carelessly puffs ( to each lady's delight), All his smoke and his cares ' baft the funnel. TO THE COSTERMONGER OF CLARE MARKET. Mr. K— r, Mr. K— r, how clover you are, At least in your own estimation, Is it really a fact that your pimple is crack'd, Or have we had false information? Continue your chaffing, keep old women laughing, If that will procure you a penny; The adage not new, is proved in you, That one gallows fool creates many. I'm told if you fail, in selling fish stale, For linens and ribbons you'll barter; 0, dear! what a farce, don't be such an ass, You nincompoop, what are you arter? Now let us advise you, not to tell lies, you Silly old buffer, it's naughty, Of one who, we think, is now on the brink Of ten or twelve years over forty. 4 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. 4 PAUL AMONGST THE PUBLICANS. " BUNGS, HAVE AT YE ALL." " THE EARL OF EFFINGHAM;" WHITECHAPEL- ROAD. Called upon, as wo have been, by a great number of our subscribers, to pay a visit to the above place of amusement ( ?), wc buttoned up our pockets, and made for the far cast one evening last week; and though we experienced great diffi- culty in pushing our way through Whitechapel- market, with the expectation of receiving a bonncter from some of the " sporting" butchers, we reached our destination without losing a copper,— yet, by- the- bye, we felt a tug or two at our coat tails, but having nothing in the pockets, no, not even a " wipe," we found our way to tho " Effingham" without any serious mishap. After paying our fee, we thrust our corpus into the body of the saloon— this is a spacious place, which, with the gal- lery, would hold about 600 or 700 people. We really thought, in passing through tho immense crowds of gentlemen living on their means, we had escaped the whole of the danger usually met with in a journey to the east; but were convinced, on seeing the company, we had jumped from the frying- pan into the fire,— the audience consisting of that class of nymphs of the pave, who, in their vocation, usually prefer being uncovered, with a nice " Belcher" or " Bird's- eye" fogle, ornamenting their somo- what questionably- fattened shoulders. Being in, what could wo do but remain?— so we sat our- selves by ourselves, for the place was by no means crowded, and called for a pipe of the " delicious weed," seeing that to bo the tip- top cut, and a glass of cold without, fully de- termined, as we had come to Rome, to do exactly as Rome did. Mr. II. C. W. West, son, we believe, of W. West, the low comedian. It does not follow always, that a talented sire must, of necessity, have a talented progeny. Here, at least, is one exception, for we could not on the evening of our visit, discover the smallest spark of talent, in his attempts to amuse the audience. If grimacing, bawling, and throwing oneself into extravagant attitudes, be a criterion whereof we should judge, then, indeed, did this comic singer display a great amount of talent. lie is styled in the bills, a portion of one, by the way, was presented to us by a nondescript animal at the door, as one of the most talented comic singers of the day. The next in rotation is a Mr. Herbert, also one of the best. Of this person we can speak moro praisingly; his " Little Cripple" was uncommonly well managed. He has one great fault, however, and that is, he always appears anxious to finish his song; for when he once begins, he hardly stops to take breath until he has finished— otherwise his singing is by no means bad. Mr. H. Cooper, is also one of the best, and stands on a par with the first- named gentle- man. A Mr. Carter, the doer of the sentimental, has about three notes in his voice, so you may pretty easily guess what kind of murder is done sentimentally every evening. Here we have the modern Malibran, the East- end Jenny Lind, and a variety of other names of equal celebrity. But the visitor may sit all night ere he or she have the good fortune of hearing a decent song sang, as regards the sing- ing part of the business. The names in the bill comprise Mrs. Labern, Miss Seymour, and a variety of others too numerous to mention; the two ladies mentioned, we are led to believe, seldom or ever appear at this place— for the " pro- fessional," we had the misfortune to hear, positively made us quite unwell. We must not omit to mention that the singers(?) do get applause, and somewhat of the most vociferous kind, as the whole of the waiters stamp and shgut in a by no means quiet manner. Here they sell, in tho midst of tho performances, " hot pies," " fresh ham sandwiches," " cherries," & c., & c., of which you arc informed by a sort of hop, skip, and a jump voice, belonging to a peculiarly round- headed " subject," which, at the comic humour of the establishment strives, though inef- fectually, to raise a smile on its dumpling physog. Ere closing our remarks, we must complain of the weak- ness of the liquors served, and which, to our taste, appeared rather of questionable quality. Most landlords who have concert rooms, seem to adopt the plan of selling the worst kind of liquors, & c., in their rooms, which, to our thinking, must, in the long run, be the less profitable to them, inas- much as tho frequenters are satisfied with a very little of it, whereas, if they were at all drinkable, they would indulge, in nine cases out of ten, in larger libations. After sitting for near an hour, wc made a rush at the door, entered a bus, and arrived safe and sound at our villa, deter- mined, in our mind, not to be seen in the " Effingham Saloon" again, for some time to come. LETTER- BAG. ( To Paul Pry, Esq.) Ayr, 19th July, 1849. LEAR UNCLE,— In my last, I promised to give you- some account of the doings at Ayr. It is a very nice town, and there are some very pretty girls in it. The greatest character in it is a retired officer, who is at once a most agreeable com- panion, and voluptuous old sinner. He resides in the country, but drives in every day ( wet or dry), and frequently visits tho " back of the isle," as it is called, a collection of old- fashioned wooden bouses, which are tenanted by the " demireps" and frail ones of the town. With one of the ministers there resides a little nigger wench, very ill- favoured, but who, to compensate for the want of personal charms, has £ 30,000. It was very nearly secured by the coachman, with whom she eloped not long ago. But they were nabbed before they had time to commit matrimony, or anything else. There is a short, thick- set, vulgar man, called H— n, who may be seen any day of the week walking with a young lady on the sands. It has been thus every day for the last seven years. Her brother should ask if his intentions are honour- able. If you should fancy to come and see Ayr yourself, you'll find excellent accommodation with your old friend Brydges, late of the London, Maxwell- street, who has taken the King's Arms here, and, as usual, docs his best to please his customers. I will now conclude, and finish the Ayr news another time. So remain, dear Uncle, your affectionate Nephew, ADAM TRY THE YOUNGER. the whole course of my life, I ever met a blacker case' Under pretence of visiting and affording relief to the parent you pursued your victim; and, after praying to your Maker for the sick mother, you deliberately seduced the daughter. Shame! shame upon you! Such men as you, bring discredit upon the religion of which they ought to be the ornaments; in fact, such men as you are a disgrace to society, and should be hooted and scouted out of it. For you to have married the poor girl, would have been beneath the dignity of the cloth; to have made an honest woman of her, would, in your estimation no doubt, have disgraced you in the eyes of your family. But to make her your mistress— your wanton— you rake all the powers of heaven and hell together to accomplish your fiendish pur- pose; and having obtained all you wish, and almost killed the poor girl, by administering drugs to hide your shameful conduct, you cast her off to the wide world, careless what becomes of her, and begin your evil practices again on another victim. You, Sir, believe in a Supreme Being— at least, you have been for some time past preaching that belief— and most of your hearers have thought you a very pious man: you have worn the mask of hypocricy uncommonly well, and deceived the eyes of man; but there are eyes that never sleep; and the just retribution of an all- seeing God will sooner or later overtake you. What matters it to you— the paltry sum of gold? you could, without doubt, treble the amount and feel no inconvenience; and while you have gold wherewith to pay, you^ can go on in your evil course, regardless of the con- sequences. Though you may retain your gown; though you may mount the pulpit; though you may place your hand upon the sacred word ; though you may minister the sacrament and fulfil the duties of your office to perfection,— in every face into which you may gaze you shall see the smile of scorn and derision, the mocking curling of the lip, and the unques- tioned reply to all you preach:— that your life is one living lie. Hoping you will turn from the error of your ways. I remain, & c. PAUL PRY. ( To the Rev. Mr. HOOKS, of Exeter.) SIR,— Independent of the- fine imposed upon you for the seduction of your servant- girl, Maria Brooks, I feel it in- cumbent upon myself, as the CENSOR OF THE AGE, to address a few words to you. You, of course, as a minister of religion, must have been aware— all the time you were laying snares for the destruc- tion of that young woman's peace of mind— of the enormity pf the act you were striving to commit. I do not think, in PETTI- COATATION. TO T. W—, ESQ. Berwick, Saturday. MY DEAR SIR, In your amusing billet of last evening, you frequently used the word— petti- coatation. I have stolen a few hours from my morning slumbers; have, in fact, slipt or slept away from the petticoat, not slept under it, above, or below it; but, in plain English, left my bed to enquire into the history of your word— petti- eoatation. The subject has in- terested mankind from nearly the beginning of the world. That it could not have been " vernacular" in Eve's time, though our common mother lived to a good old age, is, I think, in accordance with the opinions of Dr. Hooker ( Bishop of Exeter in the time of Charles the Second),- past contradiction from various reasons. The great Chinese historian and philosopher cannot fix a date when they were first introduced, though he devoted many years of laborious research for that object, and was assisted by the most learned men of his age. Herodotus, residing in a different part of the globe, and who may justly bo termed the father of historians, has devoted three chapters in his admirable work to the subject; but the reader is left quite in the dark ( I do not say improperly). The subject has engaged the attention of the moderns to a great extent; though, I believe, Ovid is the best writer on the introduction of petticoats. Bishop Glass did, certainly, write his well known " Treatise on Female Garments" ( Dodsley, 1742), in which petticoats form the chief subject. In his preface, lie informs the reader that, although he has introduced a good deal of extraneous matter into his work, it was all written on the petticoat. A fierce controversy en- sued. The Hon. William Grant was tho first to take the field. In a thin octavo ( published Jan. 1743), he gives his opinions to the world; he says, that the less that part of female attire is touchod, meddled with, handled, spoken about, or made the subject of a learned treatise by so emi- nent a divine as Bishop Glass, the better; and concludes by advising that every petticoat in England should be turned aside. This gave great offence to the fair sex at that time, when embroidered skirts with hoops were much in vogue. A lady has an awful repugnance to part with her finery. They, therefore, resisted with all their might, this innovation of their rights; and a capitulation was agreed upon. The terms were these,— the ladies insisted on the propriety of wearing petticoats, but they had no objection to throw them aside for a time, and as occasion served. But in pursuing the petticoat, I have lost sight of the quotation; you may think it a very natural circumstance. To come then to the point; and that will lead us to the end. From what I have learnt in my various readings, I find that the word— petti- coatation— was first coined by Charles II., about twenty years before the restoration, and when about eighteen years of age. It fell into disuse in James II.' s time, but under George I., and particularly while the fourth George ' sat upon the throne, it was considered a household word. It is now, ( though it never will become obsolete), a little old- fashioned; and it is expected that in Webster's new Dictionary, it will occupy a place. Truly yours, R. G. CORRESPONDENCE. %* Every letter for the future, containing advice, must be ac- companied by three postage stamps.— All letters for insertion in the current number must reach our office five days prior to the publication of our journal, or they cannot be inserted. %* In consequence of the severe indisposition of the talented author of " MARONE : OR THE WINE OF LOVE," the con- tinuation of that exciting tale is unavoidably postponed until our next. G. A. ( Bridport).— Most happy to hear from you. DIDO ( Seven Oaks).— Do you find any difficulty in obtain- ing our journal in your locality ? J. R. W. ( Brixton).— If you sent, we make no doubt it would have reached us, and would unquestionably have been inserted. THE BLACK- HAIRED YOUTH.— We thank you for the interest you take in our prosperity. We make no doubt if five or six were to request the bookseller to get it for them, he would comply. AI. FREDUS.— We should rather think we are, my bo}'. J. B. ( Holloway).— It has been inserted. It came too late for our current number, but was published on the week fol- lowing. Every letter wishing for insertion in the current number, ought to reach our office by the Friday previous to the day of publication, RATTLER ( Beading).— Most happy to hear from you as promised. WAY ( Newcastle).— Thank you for your communications. We would much rather have them funny than severe. SNOB ( Newcastle).— Happy to hear from you as often as convenient. Send us a few laughable things. J. ALEX. ( Sheffield).— Don't send us any more of your bilious letters, or our son Tom shall pay a visit to Sheffield, and give you a sound thrashing. Can you fight? ADAM PRY, THE YOUNGER ( Glasgow).— Your letter reached us too late for insertion in our current number. Send always by Friday at the latest, as we publish every Wednes- day morning, and are compelled to go to machine early on Monday, in order to get a sufficient supply for the London publishers. G. R. ( Berwick).— Is thanked for his communication. Most happy to hear from you again. ANTI- HUMBUG.— You may tell your tale to the marines, it won't do for PAUL. AS to the virtue of the aristocracy of England, you certainly must be a madman to take their part on that score. We consider if a person is placed in a position by education and wealth, and then commits him- self, he's doubly culpable; but as you slave so hard, twelve hours out of the twenty- four, it's no use our directing your attention to the public journals for specimens of the " noble and virtuous aristocracy." And how you obtained suffi- • cient time to find out their superlative conduct puzzles our poor brain. Wo rather think you're a regular humbug, and in the habit of defending a class of whom you know nothing. ANNA.—" Letters on Convent Discipline" will be continued in an early number. BENEDICT ( North Shields).— Most decidedly. Your letter came too late for insertion. XINES TO MY BOOT. Boot! thou art silent nowl Thy nails which on the pavement rang In thy young days with echoing clang, No longer make a row; Thy beauties sunk unto decay, The nails and heels have worn away. Boot! thou art silent now! Boot! thou hast lost thy sole! Thy trusty welts no longer meet; I feel the wet against my feet— Sad witness of a hole: No more thou'lt press the rushes plat, Or sweep the cords which form the mat.' Boot! thou has lost thy sole! YOU MAY BE CURED YET. HOLLOWAY'S OINTMENT. CURE OF RHEUMATISM AND RHEUMATIC GOUT.— Extract of a Letter from Mr. Thomas Brunton, Landlord of the Waterloo Tavern. Coatham, Yorkshire, late oftheLife Guards, dated September28tli, 1848. To PROFESSOR HOLLOWAY.— SIR,— For a long time I was a Martyr to Rheumatism and Rheumatic Gout, and for teu weeks previous to using your medicines, I was so bad as not to be able to walk. I had tried doctoring and medicines of every kind, but all to no avail, indeed I daily got worse, and felt that I must shortly die. From see- ing your remedies advertised in the paper I take in, I thought I would give them a trial. I did so. I rubbed the Ointment in as directed, and kept cabbage leaves to the part thickly spread with it, and took the Pills night andmorning. In three weeks I was enabled to walk about for an hour or two in the day with a stick, and in seven weeks I could go any where without one. I am now, by the blessing of God anil your medicines, quite well, and have been attending to my business for more than seven months, without any symptoms of the return of my old complaint. Besides my case of Rheumatic Gout, I have lately had proof that your Pills and Ointment will heal any old woundorulccr as amarried woman, living near me, had had a bad leg for four years, which no one could cure, and I gave her some of your Pills and Ointment, which soundly healed it when nothing else would do it. For your information I had the honor to serve my country f or twenty- five years in the first regiment of Life Guards, ana was eighteen years a Corporal. I was two years in the Peninsula War, and was at the Battle ol" Waterloo. 1 was discharged with a pension on the 2nd September, 1833. The Commaiding Officer at the time, was Colonel Lygon, who isjnow a General. I belonged to the troop of Captain the Honourable Henry Baring. ( Signed) THOMAS BRUNTON. CURE OF A BAD LEO OF TWENTY ONE YEARS' STANDING.— EX tract of a Letter from Mr. Andrew Brack, Blacksmith, Eycmoutii near Berwick, dated the 10th of August , 1818. To PROFESSOR HOLLOWAY.— SIR,— With pleasure aud gratitude have to inform you that after suffering for twenty- one years with a bad leg, which yielded to no kind of treatment, although I consulted, at different times, every medical man of eminence in this part of the Country, but all to no purpose. I was frequently unable to work; aud the pain and agony I often endured no one can tell. My leg is now as sound as ever it was iu my life by means of your Pills and Ointment, which I purchased from Mr. I. Davidson, Druggist, Ber- wick- upon- Tweed, who knows my case well, and will, I am sure, be happy to certify with me, if necessary, as to thetruthof this wonder- ful cure. ( Signed) ANDREW BRACK. AMPUTATION . OF Two TOES PREVENTED.— Extract of a Letter from Mr. Oliver Smith Jenkins, dated Falkirk, August 13th, 1848. To PROFESSOR IIOLLOWAY.— SIR,— I was superintending about six months ago, the erection of one of our Railway Bridges, and by the fall of a large stone my right foot was seriously bruised, which ulti - mately got so bad, that I was advised to go to Edinburgh to consult some or tho eminent Surgeons, which I did, and was told that in order to save my foot, two of my toes must be taken off. In despair, I returned home to impart the melancholy news to my wife, intending to submit to the operation, it was then a thought struck me to try your valuable Ointment and Pills, which I did, and was by their means in three weeks enabled to resume my usual occupation, and at this time my toes are perfectly cured. ( Signed) OLIVER SMITH JENKINS. AN EXTRAORDINARY CURE OF A DESPERATE SKIN DISEASE.— On the 21st. July, the Editor of the " Mofussilite" Newspaper published in India, inserted the following Editorial article in his paper. " We know for a fact, that llolloway's Pills and Ointment act in a most wonderful manner upon the constitution, as an eccentric Coolie, called Eliza, employed in our Establishment, was affected with myriads of Ringworms, which defied all the Meerut Doctors, and promised to devour the poor man before he was underground; we tried " Holloway" upon him, and in a month he was perfectly re- stored to his former condition aud cleanliness ol' skin. The effect was miraculous." The Pills should be used conjointly with the Ointment in most of the following eases :— Bad Legs Chiego- foot Fistulas Sore Nipples Bad Breasts Chilblains Gout Sore throats Burns Chapped hands GlamlularSwel- Skin- diseases Bunions Corns ( Soft) lings Scurvy Bite of Mosche- Cancers Lumbago Sore- heads toesandSand- Contracted aud Piles Tumours flies Stiff- joints Rheumatism Ulcers Coco- Bay Elephantiasis Scalds Wounds— Yaws Sold by the Proprietor, 244, Strand, ( near Temple Bar,) London, and by all respectable Vendors of Patent Medicines throughout the civilized World, in Bots and Boxes, Is. 1 Jd., 2s. 9d., 4s. ( id., lis., 22s., and 33s. each. There is a very considerable saving by taking the larger sizes. N. B.— Directions for the guidance of Patients are affixed to each Pot and Box. The following are our appointed Agents:— London: W. COLE, Bedford- street, Oxford- street, Mile End.— Deptford: F. L. LYONS, 8, Broadway.— Greenwich : H. HILL, ! » , Market- place.— Bristol: COOK, Sims- place.— Manchester: HYE, WOOD, Oldham- street.— Leeds: A. MANN.— Glasgow: W. LOVE, Nelson- street.— Derby: BROOKES, St. Alkmund's- ohurchyard.— Leicester: BILLSON, Bellgrave- gate.— Beverley: WARD, Butcher- row.— Banbury: BUNTON, Clierwell- strcct.— Sheffield: ROGERS, Fruit- market.- Brighton: TOUELE, 57, Edward- street.— Newcastle- on- Tync: KRANCE & Co., 8, Siile.— Bradford, Yorkshire: W. COOKE, Vicar- lane. Printed and Published by the Proprietor, G, JOBJISTONE, 12, Kuseelf- court, Brydgea- strwt, Strand,