NEW PAUL SERIES. PRY 9 " IT IS A VIRTUOUS ACTION TO EXPOSE VICIOUS MEN."— DRYDBN. No. 38.— NEW SERIES.] PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. IN order to illustrate the accompanying copy of Titian's VENDS AND AnoNis, which is one of the most splendid things in the National Gallery, we cannot do better than take from our own noble bard— our native Shakspcare— some of those splendid verses with which his Venus and Adonis abound. The first is beautifully pastoral:— Even as the sun, with purple coloured facc, Had ta'n his last leave of the weeping morn. Rose- cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase: Hunting he lov'd, but Love he laught to scorn. Sick- thoughted Venus makes amain unto him, And like a bold- fac'd Suter ' gins to Woo him. Vouchsafe, thou Wonder! to alight thy steed, And rein his proud Head to the Saddle Bow, If thou wilt deign this Favour, for thy Meed, A thousand liony Secrets slialt thou know. Here come and sit, where Serpent never hisses, And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses. The conflict grows more into an actual battle :— Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, And govern'd him in Strength, tho' not in Lust. So soon was she along, as ho was down, Each leaning on their Elbows and. flieir Hips. Now doth she stroke his Cheek, now doth he frown, And ' gins to chide, But soon she stops his Lips: And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken; If thou wilt Chide thy Lips shall never open. Sometimes she shakes her Head, and then his Hand; Now gazcth she on liim, now on the Ground, Sometimes her Arms infold him like a Band; She would, he will not in her arms be bound: And when from thence he struggles to be gone, She Locks her Lilly Fingers one in one. Fondling, saith she, since I have hem 3' d thee here, Within the Circuit of this Ivory Pale, I'll be the Park, and thou shalt be my Deer; ' Feed where thou wilt on M ountain or in Dale. Graze on my Lips, and if those Hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant Fountains lie. VENUS AND ADONIS. Within tins Limit is Belief enough. Sweet bottom Grass, and high delightful Main, Round rising Hillocks, Brakes obscure and rough, To shelter thee from Tempest and from Rain. Then be my Deer, since I am such a Park, No Dog shall rouze thee, tho' a thousand bark. Adonis is cold, however, and will not even love without grumbling— rather strange that— eh I reader? Now lot me say good Night, and so say you: If you will say so, you shall have a kiss. Good Night ( quoth she) and ere he says adieu, The Hony Fee of parting tendred is. Her Arms do lend his Neck a sweet Embrace, Incorporate then they seem, Facc grows to Face. Till breathless he dis- joined, and backward drew The Heavenly Moisture, that sweet Coral Mouth, Whose precious Taste her thirsty Lips well knew, Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on Drouth; He with her Plenty prest, she faint with Dearth, Their Lips together glew'd fall to the Earth. Now quick Desire hath caught her yielding Prey, And Gluttqn- like she feeds, yet never fillcth, Her Lips are Conquerors, his Lips obey, Paying what Ransom the Insulter willeth; Whose Vultur Thought doth pitch the Prize so high, That she will draw his Lips' rich Treasure dry. And having felt the Sweetness of the Spoil, With blind- fold Fury she begins to forragej Her Face doth reck and smoak, her Blood doth boil, And careless Lust stirs up a desperate Courage: Planting Oblivion, beating Reason back; Forgetting Shame's pure Blush, and Honour's Wrack. It is evident, however, that Venus is not to prevail over Adonis, for the last verse we extract runs thus:— But all in vain, good Queen, it will not be, She hath assaid, as much, as may bo proved, Her pleading hath deserved a greater Fee: She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd! Fie, fie, he says, you crush me, let me go, You have no Reason to with- held me so. PENCILLING^ ABOUT TOWN; OR, LEAVES FROM PAUL'S SKETCH- BOOK. No. 4. PAUL is not habitually an early riser— seldom quitting his bed before 9 o'clock in the morning. We do pity from our souls those poor unfortunate devils, whose business or pro- fession compels them to bo duly breakfasted and shaved by half- past eight of a morning. Wo can understand a man's rising at 4 or 5 o'clock very well, and think we could manage to do this ourselves, without very materially deranging our ideas of mere animal comfort; but at twenty minutes to eight ! oh dear, no ! we should never be able to do that, and the late honorable member for Oldham— and of Barn Elms, in the county of Surrey, might have lectured himself as well as his readers to sleep, in endeavouring to convincc us of a fact contrary ta the evidenco of our senses— no no— we arc not to be routed out of bed, at eight o'clock in the morning, quite so easily— just when a man of well regulated mind is enjoying his second snooze,— when Morpheus— ceasing to " lock " you in his arms as in a vice— merely lulls your re- pose with the faintest ruffle of his wing, ere he resigns his " empire of the soul"— who but a heathen could disturb a repose so calm— and we had almost said, so holy? At such a moment the smallest rose leaf, would scarce be ruffled by our breath, and yet that dear, considerate Mrs. P. contrives to quit our side, without ever disputing our repose— how the little woman does it is a mystery to us ! ! But the reader must not conclude from the above that Paul is a sluggard; ho is nothing of the sort— having— occa- sionally— been known to " rise with the lark," and has more than once, this summer, disturbed the whole household by his early movements; indeed it was only the other day that he was himself surprised at the alacrity with which he found him- self nailing up the gooseberry- trees in the garden, beforefive in the morning!! Healthful recreation! and how creative of ap- petite for breakfast ! delightful to our oar is the " breezy call of inccnse- breathing morn "— " And swallows twittering, from the straw- built shed." " Sweet is the breath of morn!" saith the Poet, " and sweet the earning on of gentle evening mild." He might have added how sweet itistogrowme's own peas— to inspector's ownmanure 196 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE, — to earth up one's own celery— and, in a word, to be one's own gardener!— we can plantbox, set shrift, or prune a currant- tree with any man— we can mow our own lawn, dung our own rhubarb, and thin out carrots, with a dexterity and an ad- dress that would surprise the most celebrated horticulturist in the kingdom;— in short, we are quite au fait touching the culture of most of the finer sort of esculents, from a " marrow" to a turnip. By the way, we are not a little proud of our vegetable- marrow show this season; and are more than repaid for our trouble, in training them to overhang the garden- wall, by witnessing the admiring gaze fixed on them by the buxom housemaid next door. She has rather a pretty smile, to our thinking, as, with merry eye, she watches us nail them tenderly up, and expose them in such a way that they may receive the full benefit of the morning sun;— we shall certainly request her acceptance of the first fine one that is ripe. But we do mortally hate that crabby old file, her master. The poor creature has made two or three at- tempts to " get into conversation" with Paul, but it's no go! ( If there is one thing Paul hates more than another, it is to be pestered by a prating puppy over a garden- wall.) We always turn a deaf ear to the wretched zany's observations on the weather, & c.; and, in order to cure him of this de- testable habit, and save ourselves all future annoyance, the very last time we were addressed by this insufferable " old bore," we made him no answer, but, setting our arms a- kimbo, we merely fixed a calm and steadfast gaze on his vacant countenance for the space of about a minute; when just as the astonished fool ( feeling, we suspect, a little flab- bergasted) was beginning to shrink in his breeches, and to quail under our steady gaze, we commenced incontinently to twitch our nose, anon to wink our eye, presently to thrust our tongue into our cheek— in a word, committing sundry the like absurdities, in order to induce— in owe friendly inter- locutor— the supposition that we were a " little cracked" in our upper story;— and so well did we act our part, that we understand the chattering oaf firmly believes, and has spread about a report in the neighbourhood, that Paul is a harmless lunatic 1! Very well, Mr. Yellow Nose! very good indeed! A " harmless lunatic," said you!— we like that amazingly. " Harmless," too; only think of that, fair reader. We only hope that the filthy old curmudgeon may never have reason to alter his adjective, " harmless!"— ah! well, if Paul don't " squeeze his lemon" for him before long, it's an odd thing to us— if we don't " scrape his ' tatur" before many days are over his head, never trust us. We know the old sinner is very jealous of our superior horticultural skill; and we often watch for hours the workings of his sallow snout, peering over the wall, and turning itself up in ill- concealed disdain at the skill which, in secret, its owner envies. He may turn up his nose as long as he likes— he will never be able to shew such produce as ours. He may stand staring till he is tired, we don't mind him in the least, but shall just go on looking for snails, and picking the slugs off our brocoli plants, and chucking them over the wall amongst the poor devil's strawberry- beds;— while we now and then give him such a look of resolute determination, that the poor creature is afraid to remonstrate, but sneaks off, mut- tering his discontent, into a shady corner of his garden, and only dares to give audible vent to his feelings after he has gained the friendly shelter of the privy,— in which cool retreat we will leave him for the present to indulge his " maiden meditation," until we have, with Betsy Jane's as- sistance, our garden engine in readiness. That good- natured girl is always ready to assist us in " our watering," and manages the machine so adroitly that we sometimes jocosely tell her that we are convinced she must have a father in the " Brigade," since she fingers a hose- pipe so well. And then Mr. Yellow Nose, if you choose to emerge from your privacy, and receive your first lesson in hydraulics, we shall feel quite happy to discharge our water, accidentally, in your hollow cheek; we shall, to a certainty, take most of the starch out of your cravat, and as we have you so nicely " within range," you may depend upon it, old fellow, we shall not let you go until wc have soaked your giblets thoroughly. How amusing to be sure to watch the half- drowned idiot turning his in- quiring gaze to heaven, as if he expected to find in the clouds a solution of the watery mistery, in the shape of some angry demon of the air, who had been suddenly moved with a de- sire to open his sluices on the shining pate of our esteemed friend, and rain down a middling torrent of brackish water and manna on his devoted head. The old blockhead does well not to come, prying and poking his nose over our wall in endeavouring to find out the sources of this sudden cata- ract; and wc hereby give him fair warning to take great care that no portion of his nasal promontory " juts over" into our premises: in the meantime, hoping the candid reader will not think us a bad or vindictive neighbour; we may here observe that wc pretend not to any great notion of the law, but are, nevertheless, sufficiently well versed in the jurisprudence of this realm, to know that we may legally treat in a very sum- mary way ( even to the lopping off of the same) any obtrusive branch, bough, stump, root, or shoot that may chance to over- hang our domain; so take timely warning, old chap, for, by the living Jingo, should we but perceive the faintest adum- bration of a snout beleaguering our wall, we shall, with finger and thumb ready smeared with bitumen and tar, achieve a most retentive possession of your canary- coloured proboscis ( which may well be mistaken for a withered gherkin) as the law and your ill fortune empower us to retain. Sweet sir, there are divers and sundry ways by which a man may lose his nose; in the first place, and accompanied with very great honour, a man may lose his nose in the service of his country, both by sea and land; secondly, and with only a trifling diminution of honour, he may lose it in some intestine broil, in a little affair of barricades, or, if you please, in a contest with some patriotic chartist on Mutton Hill; nor are these the only wars in which noses may be injured or lost; they may be lost ( at least we have hear 1 our grandmother say so) with very great honour indeed, in the wars of Venus, though how, or by what means, the good old lady did not say, and Paul did not like to ask her; however, pass we that by as a thing beyond our comprehension; again, a nose may be ab- scinded and lost by the mere swaying too and fro of an iron bar, as was proved the other day by the newspaper reports of some bungling fellow contriving to get his nose cut" clean off" at the fixingof the iron bridge over the Straits of Menai. Yes, sir, various are the ways by which noses may be lost; wo have recounted some of them, but there is yet another way by which a nose may be lost; yes, sir, there is! it may be lo t in the grip of a harmless lunatic!! Yes, sir, it may, and you stand a fair chance of realizing this fact in your own propria persona. We have heard tell of a certain Roman emperor who passed a good deal of spare time in cutting off his subjects noses with a razor, taking, by all accounts, con- siderable delight in the amusement, and who shall say that he was not justified in thus checking the proboscian obtrusive- ness of that particular description of nose, which in all ages of the world have been known as the " poking ?" With this high example before our eyes, we shall stand no longer on any ceremony, but proceed with our manipulating process at once; we only wish we had a razor in our pocket, wouldn't • we phlebotomise the old sinner! as it is,* twe have nothing but a strong finger and a willing thumb at his service— means, we fear, inadequate to the desired effect; but courage! prison walls have been " bored through" with a bare bodkin; drops of water will" wear away a stone," & c. & c.; and by a parity of reasoning, a thumb and finger will " screw off" a nose. " We give it to the winds—' tis gone." There sir! How do you feel now? we wanted 110 razor after all, our " lemon squeezer" did the business! But soft, we are a humane man after all, wc won't enact" tbe Emperor" this time, and on reflection, are very glad that we did not twist his olfactory " clean off;" we felt that wc relented a leetle while giving the final squeeze; at that moment a stray thought of the poor devil's wife and family crossed our mind, and the consequence is, that we have merely dislocated where we meant to annihilate; instead of snapping off that bowsprit of his, we have simply given it a lateral direction to leeward of his face. The poor demented creature, ill his fulure at- tempts to walk straight, and " follow his nose," will appear to himself to be perpetually " turning a corncr," or, as the bluejackets term it " weathering a point;" he certainly won't know himself when he looks in the glass to- morrow morning, and what a figure he'll cut before his assembled family at breakfast time! How the buxom housemaid will hold her stout sides and laugh at the idea of " master's nose all on one side," and hanging dow n his cheek like a ringlet, or the curl and the twist in the tail of the Irishman's pig. Bless me, how the time does fly to be sure, we quite in- tended visiting the City to day, instead of which, here we are " pencilling" at home, till near tea time; but really our fruit trees required pruning and nailing up, and we must be " up with the lark' to- morrow morning, when, dear reader, you shall again hear the tinkle of our hammer 011 the wall, and after breakfast, accompany us to the City, where we always find " a great pressure" of business waiting our at- tention. Allow us now to present you a nosegay picked by our own fingers from tho choicest of flower beds; first of all we pluck that queen of all flowers— the rose : there is not the smallest flower of the field that we do not passionately love, even to the simple daisy; but chiefly this, the fair, the blushing rose— fresh as the bloom on beauty's cheek, and quite as lovely! Here we have the " flaunting marigold" " that goes to bed with the sun, and with him rises weeping." Here again are violets dim— But sweeter than the lids of Juuo's eyes, or Cytherea's breath." and here the pale primrose, " That dies unmarried, ere it can bell; id bright Phoebus." But it's getting late, and in the " grey twilight," half hid among rose trees, let us watch the sunset. ' Tis true, we have no " Eastern pines" with proud tops gleaming with his part- ing ray; but then we have Primrose Hill on the left, fading slowly from the view in the coming twilight; while on the right, tower the two mighty pillar- like chimnies of tbe North Western Line of Railway, and they too are fast fading in the evening gloom; still the" last blush of light yet lingers on the lofty summits, as if to bestow a parting, on those towering columns, " Tlie last that parley with the setting sun." Hark, we heard a voice! afemale's! Paul! Faul!! re- echoes through the air, " come to supper, Paul!" ( what shrill voices those women have at meal times); we see Betsy Jane lookin for us, and can catch the pretty twinkle of her ancles among the flowers, while the more mature voice of Mrs. P. rather startles our ear. Well, we are a little tired, and after a well- spent day are decidedly " peckish;" it's true wc were not present at the shelling, but for all that, we know that there is ham and peas for supper, together with foaming floods and " sparkling rivers" of home brewed! RASP. Priory Villa, Regent's Park. MARONE; or, THE WINE OF LOVE. CHAPTEK X. ( Continued from our last.) " Are you entirely merciless then?" demanded Marone, still shrinking farther back from the evil- visaged man. " Well now, this is very fine, my dark beauty, do you imagine that I and Madame Mollesse— that good, kind creature, not to say that she is a little buxom, and loves a glass of wine—- do you imagine, I ask, that after all the labour we have gone through, after our affectionate anxiety in your behalf, that I really feel quite at home now that I have you?" " Accursed woman!" muttered Maronc, " accurscd man, they will pursue me even to my death- bed, if I do not re- taliate upon them." Then in a louder, firmer tone, she said, " what do you want?" " I have brought you an invitation Ma'amselle," and his hypocritical features wore a look so profoundly cunning and perplexing, that the poor girl knew not what to say. " The fact is," he added with mock suavity, " it is not so much an invitation, in the direct comprehension of such a circumstance, as it is one given under my suggestion, you comprehend?" Marone did not comprehend; she listened, she was silent, for an awful dread was creeping around her heart. " Now this invitation," continued Father Fineau, now taking a chair, and leisurely crossing his leg over his knee, " comes from some one you have so much reason to— know- to admire, for his liberality, his gaiety, in fact, for many of those amorous propensities, those simple, but relishing luxuries, common to great men; and which you understand the art of cultivating— I suppose that is what we must call it, of playing the Venus to, so well." Marone was indignant. Her dark eyes expressed it. Her lips worked, and her frame shook with the violence of her emotion. " Monster of a man, or rather man- devil that you are, do you not know that when your hideous presence first darkened the sunshine in my path of life, I was a young, guileless, pure and innocent—" " Very truly," responded the unmoved father, " you were an absolute benediction; bat what tho devil would you have? It is astonishing how soon a, ll that alters. We now say ten is the age of puberty with girls." Marone, at this audacionis and shameless speech, covered her face with her hands, an d groaned. Every portion of her face, neck, and ears were l ike crimson. " You have not yet asked me the name of the party who honoured you with this invitation," continued Father Fineau. Marone did not reply. " Egad!" laughed the man, " I must confess myself astonished at the way in which you came out. By- the- bye, you appeared to be looking at some one off the wings, on that night. May I venture to enquire who it was?" " Leave me— I implore you— I entreat you!" murmured the tortured woman, beginning to grow nervous and fright- ened; for the haze was deepening into the night, and the wind was heard without; and, in addition, it was absolutely horrible, and no less astonishing, how this man obtained entrance. " Leave you! before I hare completed my business?" laughed he. " Not exactly. No, no, my pretty one. Be- sides you do not appear to have been interested enough to ask the name of this nobleman who does you so great a condescension." I do not wish to know— I do not care to know," was the answer of the now almost infuriated girl, stamping her feet, and darting one of her most malignant glances at him, and looking as if she were about to rush upon liim with her dagger— the dagger was on the table, however, and not near her grasp; therefore the father was perhaps safe upon that score only. " It appeared as if Father Fineau took a diabolical plea- sure in annoying Marone, under the aspect of such blind candour, by conveying to her infamous images; names, the retrospect of which were full of horror; and of several times speaking of this person's name, but deferring to utter it until some peculiar moment for so doing came. " It is Lord Arlenden!" said he at last. Marone started, and looked still more livid and horror- stricken. " Not him— not him— not him," she repeated. " But, by the groves of Paphos, it is our Sardanapalus himself," reiterated the priest. " He has not been so well of late, but I thought a little sprightly conversation with you might freshen him up considerably; it would remind him of those Sybarite festivals which we have taken share ill at one time or other— those festivals, or rather " orgies"— that's the word— when the " Wine of Love" went round the board; where men and women sat, and were neither coy nor bash- ful: on the contrary, the burning glances of the latter did their usual wild work of mischief, and they became elevated — tipsy— that is to say, royally drunk." Wretch and brute!— and still greater, blacker— villain! leave me, or I'll awaken the house with my shrieks!" " Faith, I don't know about waking the house," returned father Fineau with a shrug, " for it sleeps soundly enough with the wind singing about it to- night; and as for the in- mates— who took your lodgings for you, child?" he added sarcastically. Marone started once more, and drew her hand across her forehead, in order to sweep off the heavy masses that seemed to weigh her down. Watched on all sides, entrapped, escapc how she would, struggle in every way to fly from the noxious atmosphere that followed her, the poor girl let her hands fall down hopelessly by her side, and with a look of black de- spair, gazed vacantly on the unmoved visage of the fearful man. " I repeat my question," said he, in a slow monotonous ar- ticulation ; " who took your lodgings for you ?" " I— I— do not know," and she shuddered the whole time. '• Some persons at— at the— theatre— from the theatre— my God!" and she cried, with a shriek," explain this to me!" and fell at his feet. " Why, this now is actually as good as a furious melo- drama, ha, ha! I like humility, it is my vocation." " Oh! will the day— my day, never comc to me?" murmured Marone, impatiently, and cried out, instantly " Florine! Florinc! I say;" but no one answered. All that was heard was the moaning of the wind, the beating of the rain, and the creak- ing of the cowls on the chimneys. " What does it signify who took my lodgings for me?" at last asked Marone, seeing that Father Fineau was still very composedly looking towards her, and as he seemed deter- mined to stop yet for some time, with a querrulous irritabi- lity she now spoke on. " Oh! my child, it signifies very much," replied Father Fineau, with much apparent sincerity. " Because, according to where one lodges, does one hold caste— that is to say, in the two senses— the first is the " moral," of which I doubt whether you or I are much acquainted with it— the next is the " physical," and about that we may both boast of some knowledge. Eh! Marone?" " Truly, I do not comprehend you," was her answer. " I desire you to leave me." " Oh thunder! do you know that you have not yet given me an answer relative to that gracious invitation of his lordship's?" " You have soiled and blackened my innocent childhood — you have darkened my days of girlhood which might have been— and were happy— but for you, who for the sake of lucrc would sell the mother from the babe, the young bride from the husband, the sister from the brother. Oh! man, you will have much, very much, to answer for." " Decidedly well declaimed," shouted the impure priest with a shameless laugh, " but in the name of all the devils^ why delay replying to me? Will you comc? " You know what my answer is." " I know what your petulant temper is, and zounds, it is not to be trusted to, at times you are so perverse, and anon so willing— as obstinate as a mule one moment, and the next complying as a Roman wench who is three removes from the bagnio. Will you come ?" " No!" " Think again!" " No— no, and a thousand times no!" shouted Maroue, each time more aroused. " You do not know what you will see." " At least— I know what I shall miss." " What, we bandy words, do we? why you brat," muttered the priest, " it would serve you right to have you sewn in a sack and carried there." A strange, gentle sigh, which was audible to both, rose and died in the chamber, and all was still again. So— so," murmured Father Fineau, " that's nothing new here." " New— here!" cchoed the girl, " what mean you? You have already asked me if I know where I am lodging— and who took them for me. I am ignorant of all— tell me then." " I will, but promise me your consent to go, first; it is of the utmost importance— besides, I will tell you who will be there—" " It is not of the slightest importance," returned Marone, hastily and haughtily, " I refuse to succumb to your infa- mous and horrible temptations, in the name of heaven, whom here I implore to look down with pity upon the miserable orphan," and with a gesture of ineffable grace, with au aspect of worship from which the leprosicd monk sank, like the fiend rebuked by an angel, he sat glaring upon her a moment with his malicious eyes, and, as usual, completed with a laugh. " What a prcttv dear it is; with its stage attitude and bounce, does ifHiMfeose we can't tell what it all means?" and he turned his rawwom her with a sneering expression. " Well," said he at last, rising, and speaking in a furious manner, " since you will not say yes willingly, by the head of my body you shall be there, though I drag you to the feast, and to settle your curiosity as to where you now so inno- cently reside, know that it is that splendid hotel of pleasure called ' The White House!' No sooner had lie concludcd speaking, than, with a look of triumph, he left the room. ( To be continued in our next.) "" An extraordinary instance of the power of sleep 011 the animal economy occurred a few days sincc. A dissipated man, who was a great sleeper, was thought by his family to be lying too long; and upon their going up to his room, they found nothing in the bed but hismghtcap. Fromccrtain cir- cumstances connected with physiology, a medical gentleman gave it as his opinion that he had slept himself out.— American. K PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. 3 PAUL ADVISES Mrs. A. H—, of South- street, Manchester- square, to give her husband his unmentionables instead of wearing them herself. Miss S. N— d, of Klngsland- road, not to stay at the street- door from eight till nine o'clock under pretence of cleaning the door- plate. The conductor of the Kingsland- road omnibus may be in love with lier for aught we know. W. B—, alias •' Sugar- leg," of Little Shirc- lane, not to boast that it is more than Paul's worth to insert his name in our columns. F. ])—, alias " Long- bristles," of the same place, not to meddle with other people's business, but to get his bristles cut somewhat shorter. Mr. M— e, porter, at an ink- maker's, in King- street, Clerkenwell, not to think so much of himself, as many better men than himself have to draw a truck. Mr. B—, butcher, of Clement's- passage, Clare- market, to attend to his own business and not interfere with other peo- ple's. Mrs. If— n, of Clarence- street, Rotherhitlie, to wash lier children's dirty chops a little oftener and keep her daughter from gossiping at the door. Mr. T. J— e, of Victoria- row, Stepney, not to chaff poor Mr. S—' about his legs. The Proprietor, of the puffing eating- house, in Bucklers- bury, to behave with civility to li s customers. The wife and daughter of the above, not to be so fond of being driven about in a wretched vehicle with a servant in sham livery. Mrs. S— h, pastry- cook, in the Poultry, to behave with civi- lity to her customers and never charge them Id. for the use of a cheese plate. J. T. P— t, of Stafford- row, l'imlico, to spend less time in the cultivation of his whiskers. The waiters, at the a- la- mode beef- house, Gracechurch- street, not to make a demand of a gratuity from the cus- tomers. We look upon all such as a degrading system of begging. Miss C. S— t, late of Dean- street, Soho, to stay at home and think less of A. A—, snip, not a hundred miles from tho Albany. Mr. J. B— n, butcher, of High- street, Camden- town, not to frequent a certain public- liousc, in College- street, as there is no chance of his becoming the landlord. J. o— k, alias " Bottle- nose," of the Richmond Company, to keep a civil tongue in his head and not fight every little boy he comes across. J. P— y, of the Hammersmith conveyance- company, not to play with the ape behind his omnibus. Mr. T. B— y, of the London and Westminster- bank, not to think quite so much of his singiug nor to think every female is in love with him. Mr. L. H— I, the ginger- headed boy, of Rotherhithc, not to sit sucking his thumb in his bed- room facing the Grand Sur- rey- canal. J— n J— d, of Pleasant- place, Bond- street, to look more after the little dressmaker at the bottom of the street, or else he will lose her. H— t G— d, of Laystall- street, not to talk to the police- man on duty, as we are positive if continued in it will end anything but satisfactorily. Miss C. L— s, of Nine- elms, Vauxhall, to attend more to her dress- making and less to the attentions of a certain doughey. J. K— s, of Larkhall- lane, not to tear his coat in company and then get females to stick pins in it afterwards. C. R— s, butcher, of Vauxhall, not to wink his eye at the girls, or his master may find him out. J. S— e, milkman, Larkhall- lane, not to look so wicked at the girls when he serves them with bis sky- blue. G. B— e, of Bond- street, Vauxhall, not to be quite so jealous of M. C— n, as we think it is quite absurd. The long- nose baker, of Panton- street, Ilaymarket, not to trouble his head with other people's business. II. c— k, of Broad- street, City, to be obliging and good tempered to his fellow- clerks. Dick, alias " the Shadow," of Ilolborn- hill, not to boast of his dancing, as Paul think's he's more fit to carry newspapers than attend dress balls. Mrs. C— k, of Chapel place, King's- head- yard, Lincoln's- inn- fields, not to accuse people of stealing without she has some proof. Such conduct is anything but becoming. Tbe bar- maids, at the Edinburgh Castle, Strand, not to make so free with the young gents in front of the bar, and to make a point of giving good measure. Corporal II— t, of the lltli Hussars, Kensington, to mind what lie is about or that tall young lady in muslin will play the fool with him. Keep your weatlier- eye open, old chap. Tlit fair- haired girl, at the dining- rooms, llolborn, to reckof, properly and never charge more than the fixed prices; PROVINCIAL. BERKSHIRE.— S. W— e, of Bedford- street, Readme, never to allow a policeman to see him home when in a state of Anti- Father- Mathewana. Mr. B— r, grocer, lIigh- strect, Egham, to give good weight, and be civil aud obliging to his poorer customers. Mr. M— r, of Staines, not to make such a dreadful noise when in chapel, and imagine he can sing. Mr. G— e, tailor, of Egham, not to keep more cats than he has mice for them to catch. Messrs. R. S— n, printer, and E. J— s, tailor, of Egham, not to strut about the street as if all the place belonged to them. SURREY.— Mrs. S— in, of Bridge- street, Kingston- on- Thames, to wear a bonnet, aud not to scandalize her neigh- bours. The cook, at a certain boarding- school, at Gig's- mill, to attend more to her own business, and less to that of her fellow- servants. Have you any hare- skins, Jenny? DORSETSHIRE.— The two young men at Mr. D—' s of Poole, not to be seen so much with the Misses II. How about the queer pork, Mary ? Judy F— 1, not to dine at the London tavern, Poole, on the Sunday, as we consider Mrs. G—' s pudding- shop quite good enough for him. Slouching J. S— n, to go home early of an evening, as it will add much to his health, & c. II. S— e, the watchmaker of Poole, not to boast so much of what he intends to do. How about the Bristol start, my little man? G. M— r, schoolmaster, of Bridport, not to think so much of himself, nor to fancy everybody beneath him, and not to flatter himselt that lie has won the affections of the butcher's daughter, who has already discarded five or six swains, and will not hesitate, in due time, to send poor George where the old mare went. Mr. C—, of Bridport, not to say, in public company, that he loves Miss II. S— n the best in the town. Vanity Dick, of Bridport, not to be so conceited because he has gained the good will of the young lady opposite with the celcstial nose. Stop, Dick, till your brother comes home from London, and then your coat may be turned inside out again. Mr. C. SI— r, the West- end swell of Bridport, not to stop out late at night with young ladies from Birmingham, or you may depend upon it your father will fetch you home with a cane. The Little General, of West- street, Bridport, not to run out of his shop into a certain house in Barrack - street, smok- ing long pipes in the parlour, as nobody wishes to see him there. Mr. G— d, the cheap office agent, at the bottom of East- street, not to boast so much of his paltry income. Do you recollect wearing the guard without a watch? Remember, that pride without profit puts us in mind of a pudding with- out fat. BRISTOL— J. R— s, the conceited slave- driver, and J. B— n, the lithographic printer, to remember that pride goeth before a fall. How about the girl and tho queer tanner, Master Jim ? EDGEWARE.— Paddy M— y, of Edgeware, not to ima- gine himself handsome. There are monkeys in the zoologi- cal Gardens quite as good- looking; at least, so the girls of Edgeware say. SHEFFIELD.— When Alex's angel goes to the shop to see him again, not to open so many newspapers on the floor, & c. Little C— s, bill- sticker, not to follow his business so late on a Sunday morning, or he'll have another lecture from the reverend gent, Little II— y, who wears a blue coat, not to fancy all the girls in Sheffield have fallen in love with him, because he's raised a new pair of " kickseys," and gets his hair twisted. J. M— n, upholsterer, not to boast so much of never ap- pearing in Paul Pry, as Pual has heard a sly " nut" cracked at his expense, though by no means disrespectfully. ' SHIELDS.— Miss A— n, residing with her aunt in the market- place, not to be so proud, or the tinker will not have her. G. G— r, jun., the butcher, of the market- place, not to be so fond of the old women who come to his stall. II. II—, not to cut such a swell in Westor with Miss L. Messrs. P. and C. not to be so confoundedly conceited. Miss C—, of Green- terrace, not to allow so many tailors' boys to run after her. NORTH SHIELDS.— R. F— r, the little tailor, not to kick so many gentlemen's heels out, but to stick to one girl, or lie may rue the consequences. 1'— e, the printer of Tyne- street, not to think he cuts a swell, on a Sunday, with liis bright- buttoned waistcoat. PAUL WISHES TO KNOW Whether there is any correspondence still carried on be- tween the snob B— t and Miss R— 1, of Poole, and whether he is in the habit of cadging the cold " scran"? We have heard that the other night as he was running away with his booty, he fell down, and somebody fell upon him with liob- : nailed shoes, and left the impression of them in his face. What E. H. E— t, lawyer's clerk, Arcade, Newcastle- upon- Tyne, does on the Leazes with that little girl in black? Why the Misses A— s, of Parkstone, come into Poole every night? Is it because they wish for a young man to walk home with them? Whether certain ladies, carrying on the business of milli- ners in Earl- street, Finsbury, obtain their living by the busi- ness? Whether C. C. W— n, bookseller, of High- street, Egham, intends replacing the posts he borrowed, as he must recol- lect they do not belong to him? Whether C— s, the butchcr- boy, of Cannon- street, fancies lie can run and fight, since the old man beat him the 100 yards? Whether Mrs. H— r, pork butcher, of Cannon- street, has learnt to be civil to her customers? Whether H— n, the undertaker, of Cannon- street, has ever been locked up, and whether the little barber ever bailed him out? Whether H— e, of Cannon- street, allows his wife to pitch into him when he comes home tipsy? ( BY ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.) IMPORTANT NEWS. MARRIAGE OF LOLA MONTEZ ( COUNTESS OF LANSFELDT.) This extraordinary person, whose connection with late events in Bavaria will be in tho recollection of our readers, was married on Thursday to George Trafford Ilcald, Esq., ( of the 2nd Lite Guards). The ceremony took place first at the French Catholic chapel, and subsequently at St. George's, Hanover- square. Mr. Heald is a very young man, having not long since attained his majority. His income is stated to be about £ 14,000 per annum. Thus our last fond hopes are flighted in the bud. THE SONG OF OLD DRURY. BY H. II. W. I'm told that the " Good Time" is near, is near, That it's coming wi h Stammers, no fear, no fear, That he'll give to Drnry a bit of good cheer; But will Stammers do it?— I fear, I fear. For all the best talent he's making a search; He means to ' lick' every one off o' their perch, He's to fill up my pit, and each box in each tier, But can Stammers do it ? I fear, I fear. He's to fill both my gals, and the whole of my slips, His people, I hear, are to put the eclipse On all foreign talent, Mam'selle and Mynheer; If they can, then good luck to you, Stammers, my dear. An out and out ballet he means to have then, And the Caryphtes say lie's the sweetest of men. With the rint many others have been in the rear, Will Stammers pay his'n? I fear, I fear. Don't stick at it, Stammers, don't let the thing flag, Come out like a trump, if you lese every ' mag', Don't mind the expenses, and I can guess what Will become of the whole of the rhino you've got. My forebodings, I hope, will then be revers'd, If you do the trick, you will then be the first That's made a ' go' of it for many a year, But I cannot help saying— I fear, I fear. It grieves me to think I'm obliged to be still, Not even the Germans my corpus could fill, I'm quite melancholy, I am, blow me tight! Having none but the firemen with me all night, If Sttunmers's stamina is strong enough, For three or four months I shall live pretty chuff, But not any longer, I'll bet ten'. to one, Yet never say die, Mr. Stammers, my son, THE FRAIL SISTERHOOD. riVOINE, CHAP. IN. THE FIRST NIGHT. ( Continuation.) " And you arc not wrong perhaps; for, in fact, alone with you, at two o'clock in the morning, who could answer for himself? But be not alarmed; I will avoid the danger." " How so?" " I will go out." " You?" " Yes." " Where, then?" " To the opera ball, to be sure! I was sauntering there when I encountered you— I return there. I will endeavour to fancy, on arriving there, that I have taken the longest way— it will bo difficult; but what would you? I must!" " Ah! Sir, how kind you are!" " You are not going to thank me now, that would be droll! well, I'm off! so go to bed, Pivoine, and sleep, you will have plenty of time; I shall not return until ten this " morning after breakfast!" Whilst speaking, Virgil again exchanged his morning gown for his sailor's jacket; he wrapped himself in his cloak, lighted his cigar, and added, approaching the young girl. " Decidedly, all well considered, what I am now doing is something worthy of the ancients, and Scipio, so renowned for his fabulous chastity, would be but a small hero compared to me. Award me generously then, the recompense that is due to me, by giving me with a good grace— " What, Sir?" " A kiss, just one little kiss." Pivoine, blushing like the flower whose name she bore ( Peony) abandoned her cheek to the lips of the student, who could not easily withdraw them. This done, Virgil half opened the door, the key of which he threw into the lap of the young girl saying— " Lock yourself in, and open to no one." He then left, and said from the exterior— " Good night, my love! sleep well, and dream of me!" " Good night, Sir," replied Pivoinc, who, whilst pushing the bolts, heard the sound of the stndeut's steps grow weaker and lose itself in the spiral staircase. The pretty Normande then reseated herself, lier mind more calm, though agitated by gloomy presentiments. Arrived iu the great city scarcely a few hours, she had already had a terrible struggle to sustain; what then, my God, did the future reserve for her? Despite the double security which a complete solitude and a well closed door ought to inspire in her, she dared not undress and go to bed; on the contrary, she adjusted as well as she could, the broken laces of her corset; she fastened her robe, and taking a counterpane in which she enveloped herself ( for the fire had gone out, and the atmosphere was become freezing, she reclined in the fauteuil, rested her weary legs on a chair, and fell almost immediately into a sleep, profound and heavy, though peopled with sinister visions. It was broad daylight, when the sound of violent and repeated blows suddenly awoke her: at the same time she heard Virgil's voice exclaiming:— " Sacredieu! will you open to me? stir your stumps, or I'll demolish the barrack." She ran to the door. To understand the following scene, it is necessary to mention in a few words, how Virgil had employed the re- mainder of his night. In the first place, aud whilst quitting the furnished hotel of the Rue de la Ilarpc, he had entered on a long running soliloquy as to the manner of considering the part he had just played respecting Pivoine, a monologue which might be summed up by these questions, clearly advanced— Am I a virtuous mortal? Am I a flat? Interrogations to which he replied, one moment— " Yes, i am a virtuous mortal, for I have known how to command my passions, and I have respected innocence!" At another— " I have in my chamber, and in my bed, tlic prettiest girl in all crcat^ on, and, instead of taking advantage of this gracious situation, I allowed myself to be frightened by two or three sham tears, I abandon to the damsel the exclusive enjoyment of my domicile, and I show myself the door! On my word of honor, this is simplicity with a vengeance, and positively I am a flat!" Thus floating between two solutions diametrically opposed, Virgil reached Lepelletier- street, and the triumphs, so flattering to his pride, which he obtained in imagination, in the most outrageous quadrilles and fascinating polkas, for the moment entirely absorbed him. Towards six o'clock in the morning, a breakfast at Vachettes was arranged by our student, conjointly with a dozen others, a moiety consisting of a few fast ladies of his acquaintance. There, Virgil, excited by numerous libations, narrated his adventure to the noisy and joyous convives. Scarcely had he concluded, than loud peals of laughter rose from every point of the table, and were followed by an ironical cheer that made the frail partitions of the room shake. Then a deluge of witty epigrams began to shower on the student. Men and women, it was who could let fly the most pointed jest, the most cutting allusion. Some compared him to the chaste Joseph with Potiphar's wife. Others claimed for him the Montliyon prize, and the inser- tion in the Moniteur. A young lorettc called the waiter, and designating Virgil, said to him— " A crown of roses for Monsieur! come, quick! and serve it cold!" To be brief, the student, pierced through and through, ap- peared as if crushed beneath the storm of ridicule, when sud- denly he rose, took a bottle of Madeira, raised it to a level with his mouth, and swallowed the contents to the last drop; then, allowing the empty decanter to fall on the table, where it broke, by a gesture he imposed silence on the convives, exclaiming— " Not so loud, Messieurs, not so loud, for the game is not lost! it is eight o'clock by my watch, I quit you, I jump into a cabriolet, I hasten to my rooms, and as the clock strikes nine, I will re- appear in the midst of you, my brow crowned with laurels and myrtles, saying to you like Ca: sar, ' I came! I saw! I conquered!' " And Virgil, escaping amidst tho bravos that acknowledged his speech, reached the boulevard, jumped into a cab, and said to the driver " Rue de la Harpe, Geman Hotel. You shall have twenty francs, if we return in an hour to the Cafe Vachette," ( To be continued.) 4 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE, PAUL AMONGST THE PUBLICANS. " BONGS, HAVE AT TE ALL!" " THE DOCTOR JOHNSON'S HEAD." BOLT COURT, FLEET STREET. " What! off again?"—" Lord bless my heart, Mrs. P., what in the world is the use of going on in this way?— to be sure we're off again, We are compelled to go out in search of novelty, and as our country cousin is now paying us a visit we can't do better than embrace the present opportunity. Never you mind Mrs. P., my dear friend, she may delight in our society, but wc have a duty at stake, and of course we must perform it. Never in London before? Oh, then you have something to see that you never have seen before, and when you return to your unsophisticated home, many's the marvel you'll have to tell. There, don't keep shaking his hand in that freemason style— you'll see him again, never fear." Well, here we are in London streets! You may well say this is a place— nothing like it in the whole world. Talk of the wild beasts of Africa, they are nothing when compared with our wild animals of London. Here there's a method in madness, and so universal is the mania that you can scarcely go two paces but you meet some one infected more or less. We have a mania, and we hope one of the right sort— we wish to do justice to everybody. You may smile, and think it's all humbug— we like you the better for it, as it proves though having just left your verdant fields you are not so green as many folk would think you who caught a sight of your uncouth mode of wearing your white chapeau. There, that's the style wc wear hats in London, jauntily on one side. You'd now defy the most lynx- eyed sharper in this metropolis to fead you rightly. This is Fleet- street. But in heaven's name, don't keep looking back after every female you may happen to meet, i Yes, I dare say— the colour is magnificent— it may vie with ! the most melting poach in September; but my dear coz., it'? 1 not real— there's scarcely anything you may clap your eyes on in this city but has some deception hid beneath the most tempting exterior. Legs! Well, they are but legs after all; and though they appear so fine and symmetrical, one- half of them carry a poor emaciated diseased body, which in a few months they will have a difficulty in dragging to the workhouse door— that dernier ressort of the unfortunate— where they must breathe their last, unknowing and unknown. I tell you what it is: we'll go no further. This is Bolt- court, and up this avenue there's a long- celebrated place called " Tho Johnson's Head," We'll enter here, and see what's to bo seen, & e, & c. A spacious room truly, and every accommodation appa- rently provided. Well, what shall it be? Whiskey and water! No, my friend, as the cholera is very much about, we can't do better I think ( this is my advice, mind you) than have a " go" of brandy, and here's plenty of tho pure element to drown it in if you think proper. Well, what do you think of tho glee? Not much! Why the applause is tremendous. They don't understand glee singing? Very likely you have your glee club at home, and no doubt could execute much better in your village. Some- thing wanted? Of course there is— expression, that's it— they all sing like a boy saying his lesson— parrot- like. Mr. Penniket, comic singer. Wc heard him some years ago, aud think, if anything, he's much worse than he was then. He is noisy-— very— without the smallest particle of humour in him after Ross, Sharpe, Howell, Glindon, or H. Wood. Mr. Williams is a tolerable bass singer, and sang that last bacchanalian song uncommonly spirited. Who's that? Why, Master Fulcher. You don't like his style of singing? Nor more do we ourselves. He has 110 feeling, and to hear a sentimental ballad without that necessary expression is far worse than hearing our old tabby as it lies on tho hearthrug in front of the fire buzzing its evening song, or its sooty companion on the hob. The singing is not a whit better than that usually heard in the chcap concert- rooms with which this metropolis abounds. Hey, coz., though you are not very well pleased with the singing, you must confess the liquors are good. They arc excellent? I thought you'd give them credit for that. So now we'll make our exit and get home in good time. Who's that man at the door? Why he's the head waiter, dark man, with hair pretty well larded together. Yos, that's him, and now I'll pay. " For the waiter sir." Havn't you been paid for what we've had? What does it matter to me if you have to pay those other people? Havn't I paid your master for what I've had? and it's the duty of your master to pay you, and not for you to depend upon the eleemosynary charity of the customers. This is what I call decent beg- ging and it's a system that ought to be abolished. Come along, cousin. What, sir, do you insist upon detaining my friend because he don't choose to encourage beggars. No? I should think you had better not. My friend, tell your master from me, that if ho finds, ne cannot give the accom- modation at the prices fixed, to clap on an extra something so that people may know what they have to pay, without fear of being insulted because they believe the system of begging servants to be bad, and are determined not to en- courage it. Good night, friend. Come cousin, never mind their insulting remarks. Thought he was a gentleman? Why you could tell by the cut of his cloth that he belonged to the begging frater- nity. But here wc are, at home at last, and the next time I take you out, I trust you'll be better treated, and better pleased with our London fashions, for they are in general capital, but we do desire to have 1 what we order, and some politeness shown us. A little I more civility, and a great deal less pride on the proprietor's part, would cause the " Sussex Anns" to be as extensively j patronised as tho good quality of the articles supplied, and the comfort of the house, deserve. PAUL IN THE PLAYHOUSE. A GHOST STORY.— At the Ilaymarket Theatre on Thurs- day the play was Hamlet. The audience assembled to witness the tragedy in respectable numbers and due so- lemnity. The hour of seven arrived— and the curtain was ready to rise; but the Ghost, Mr. Hughes, was by no means like the curtain. The call- boy called— but the obstinate spirit refused to obey. No wonder; the boy was on tho stage, and the " poor Ghost" was solacing himself with the comforts of domestic peace. An apology was made by Laertes, and the audience were pacified with the assurance that so soon as the Ghost ( who was required) should make his appearance the play should proceed. The assembled public accordingly contemplated with great earnestness the size aud decorations of the theatre, and made valuable re- marks on the exquisite drop- scene by which Mr. Philips has adorned the stage. When they had looked at everything else, they began looking at one another, and then came loud calls for the play. At distant intervals two more apologies were made, and nearly one hour passed away. In the mean time the perturbation behind the scenes was equal, at least, to the impatience before. There is historical authority for playing Hamlet . with the part of Ilamlct omitted, but Hamlet without the Ghost was never heard of. Every man who has ever played a Ghost was sent for. Mr. Wallack arrived first, resolved to address himself boldly to the difficulty, and set about dressing himself in complete steel, with the full in- tent to read the part. Some one who was less courageous suggested that as the Ghost necessarily appears in shadow, " iu the dead waste and middle of the night," he could not see to read. So a candle was resolved upon, and the Ghost had by these means been duly laid— but for the messages to tho ghostly regions now beginning to produce their effects. Hansom cabs crowded to the stage door, each depositing its ghostly contents. There was a very deluge of Ghosts of all sizes— thick, fat, short, and tall, among whom was Mr. Stuart, and finally came the delinquent himself, Mr. Hughes, whose absence had caused this im- promptu entertainment. The tragedy was at last played with great applause, Mr. and Mrs. Kean and Miss L. Addison being called on to receive marks of hearty and well- merited approbation. But the wicked Ghost had gone to his place, and " would not come, though they did call for him;" ho had had enough of it, and retired to the" Shades." ,* Some person who has written to us without any signa- ture, is informed such letters cannot be published in our columns. If the young lady is really in want of a young gent, she must apply to another quarter. C. W. M. ( Wimborne).— By ordering them through our Poole agent, you could no doubt be favoured with as many copies as you wish to have. We shall be happy to receive any information from your locality. RASP.— We have an article in preparation touching the Rosherville Gardens and Baron Nathan. We thank you for your caution with regard to our political pilgrimage, and take the hints in that friendliness in which they are intended. JANE THOMPSON.— Yes, as often as you please. We are always happy to hear from the ladies. THINGS THAT MAKE US LAUGH IN POOLE. Mr. T— ns, Iligh- street, in want of a wife, not above six feet in height. Bill L— y, watchmaker, giving the St. James's ringers one gallon of beer between nine, when he was married. " THE SUSSEX ARMS HOTEL," BRIGHTON. EAST STREET, " Admiranda tibi levium spectacula rerum." Virgil G. 4, 3. " A mighty pomp composed of little things." Wc dislike vanity in all its phases, it is a vice productive of much crime and misery— things ought to be called by their proper names, a coal- slled is not a coal- mcrcliants, nor is a public- house an hotel. " The Sussex Arms Hotel" is nothing more than a large public- house, well furnished and fitted up, but the proprietor has thought fit to dignify his tavern by calling it an hotel, though none of the appliances usual to a place of that class are met with here. The land- lord has a nasty habit of drawing more expensive drinks than you order, for instance, stout for porter. The coffee- room is a good one, and very comfortable, but is totally cclipsed by the superior attractions of the billiard- room, where not a few tradesmen of the town and a fair sprink- ling of sharps are to be seen. We rather fancy the. sharks have lost their best prey since Mr. Tlmmwood sold his busi- ness and took an inn at Farningham. We would wish to know how much champagne he had to pay for through his foolish love for the exciting game of billiards. However, some men will neither take friendly advice, nor gain wisdom by experience. We have no fault to find with the liquors, ONE OF THE QUEEREST " STARTS " THAT HAS EVER COME UNDER OUR NOTICE. A certain gay gentleman, holding a situation in a house Of business, in which, for tho nice sum of £ 180 a year, lie actually slaughters himself, by working from about eleven till four, and after that can go and cut it— rather! Perhaps he is ravished with Jullien— mad about Cremornc— frantic for a drag ( the luckless one) down to Epsom. I'orhaps he pa - tronises the Cyder Cellars or the Cole- liolc ( very few have remarked tho appropriate relation there is at times between name and place); perhaps the Ilaymarket harpies adore him •— perhaps not. But the pith of this st upendous " lark" is this:— The other day, a gentleman a's above described— if it is a description— was up before the Commissioner of Bankruptcy, for owing £ 2,000, spending that out of £ 180 a year. The Commissioner looks over his nose and hums! —" £ 2,000!" he muttered, " well, you must pay £ 20 a year out of your salary!" Reader, how long do you suppose this lucky dog has allowed him to pay £ 2,000 in? Why— just One hundred years! CORRESPONDENCE. Every letter for the future, containing advice, must be ac companied by three postage stamps. ANTI- HUMBUG.— In sober seriousness, then, we undertake to reply to your first letter, and should have done so in the first instance; but that wc looked upon your letter as one not requiring serious consideration; but since you have spent three- pence in postage stamps, we have some idea that you are really in earnest. In the first place you blame us for becoming political, and denounce our professions in good set terms. You no doubt are blest with tho comforts of this life, and sit you down after your dinner, and enjoy yourself, careless of what becomes of your fellow creatures. Perhaps you are in a snug Government situation, and, on that account, take up the cudgels in behalf of your mas- ters. As for our part, we arc one of the toiling class, and have that love, we trust, for our brethren in slavery, that though we may he in a comfortable position, we cannot but feel, and feeling, cannot help expressing our senti- ments in regard to that class of oligarchs, who, apparently, make a point of keeping the only useful members of so- ciety in a low, degrading position, that they may be enabled to ride roughshod over the starving carcases. We con- sider it the duty of every living man to cry out aloud against all laws bearing upon the poorer classes to keep them in ignorance and slavery. With regard to the latter portion of your note, we consider it a great compliment that our letter to Lord John Manners should have been thought worthy of being mentioned with the name of JUNIUS. Punch is anybody's property. AMERICAN FRIEND.— We will pay attention to your note. Send us the advices on the same terms we offered in our last. J. B. L. C ( Poole).— If your letter has not been inserted, you may rest contented it has not reached our office, or every attention would have been paid to it. R. C.— Wc shall be most happy to recoivc anything touching the coffee- houses, & c., of Ilrighton. We thank you for your notice of this week. Do you find any difficulty in obtaining our journal in Brighton? RATTLER ( Heading).— Most happy to oblige you without the gratuity. RABBE ( Poole).—- We shall be glad to hear from you as often i as convenient, TRY ERE YOU DESPAIR.- HOLLOWAY S PILLS. CURE OF ASTHMA.— Extract of a letter fron Mr. Benjamin Mackie a respectable Quaker, dated Creenagh, near Loughall, Ireland dated September 11th, 1848.— To Professor Holloway. - Respected Friend: Thy excellent Tills have effectually cured me of an Asthma which afflicted me for three years to such an extent, that I was obliged to walk my room at night for air, afraid of being suffocated if I went to bed by cough and phlegm. Besides taking the Pills, 1 rubbed plenty of thy Ointment into my chest night and morning. ( Signed) BENJAMIN MACKIE. CURE OF TYPHUS FEVER, WHEN surroSED TO BE AT THE TOINT OF DEATH.— A respectable female in the neighbourhood of Loughall was attacked with Typhus Fever, and lay for live days without having tasted any description of food. She was given over by the Surgeon, and preparations were made for her demise. Mr. Benjamin Mackie, the Quaker, whose case is referred to above, heard of the circumstance, and knowing the immense benefit that he himself had derived from Holloway'sPills, recommended an immediate trial, and eight were given to her, and the same number were continued night and morning for three days, and in a very short time she was com- pletely cured. N. B.— From advice just received. it appears that Colonel Dear who is with his Regiment in India, the 21st Fusileers, cured himself of a very bad attack of Fever by these celebrated Tills. There is no doubt that any Fever, however malignant, may be cured by taking, night and morning, copious doses of this fine medicine. The patient should be induced to drink plentifully of warm linseed tea or barley water. CURE OF DROPSY IN THE CHEST.— Extract of a letter from J. S. Munday Esq., dated Kennington, near Oxford, December 2nd, 1818. — To PROFESSOR HOLLOWAY.— Sir,— My Shepherd for some time was afflicted with water on the chest, when I heard of it, I immediately advised him to try your Pills, which he did, and was perfectly cured, and is now as well as ever he was in his life. As I myself received so astonishing a cure last year from your Pills and Ointment, it has ever since been my most earnest endeavour to make known their excellent qualities. (" Signed) J. S. MUNDAY. THE EARL OF ALDBOROUGH CURED OF A LIVER AND STOMACH C031- PLAINT.— Extract of a letter from his lordship, dated Yilla Messina, Leghorn, 21st February, 1845.— To PROFESSOR HOLLO WAY.— Sir,— Various circumstances prevented the possibility of my thanking you before this time ior your politeness in sending me your Pills as you did. I now take this opportunity of sending you an order for the amount, and at the same time, to add that your Pills have eff ected a cure of a disorder in my Liver and Stomach, which all the most eminent of the Faculty at home, and all over the Continent, had not been able to effect; nay, not even the waters of Carlsbad and Ma- rienbad. I wish to have another box and a pot of the Ointment, in case any of my family should ever require either. Your most obliged and obedient servant. (" Signed) ALDBOROUGII. CURE OF A DEBILITATED CONSTITUTION. - Mr. Mate, a Storekeeper of Gundagai, New South Wales, had been for some time in a most delicate state of health, his constitution was so debiliated that his death was shortly looked upon by liimselt and friends as certain; but as a forlorn hope, he was induced to try Holloway's Pills, which had an immediate and surprising effect upon his system, and the result was to restore him in a tew weeks to perfect health and strength, to the surprise of all who knew him. He considered his case so extraordinary that he, in gratitude sent it for publication, to the Sydney Morning Herald, in which paper it appeared on the 2nd January, 1848. A few doses of the Pills will quickly rally the energies of both body and mind, when other medicines have failed. These celebrated Pills are wonderfully efficacious in the following complaints. Ague Drospsy Inflammation Sore- throats Asthma Dysentery Janudice Stone and Gravel Bilious Com- Erysipelas Liver Complaints Secondary Symp- plaints Female Irreg- Lumbago toms Blotches on , ularities Piles Tic- Douloureux the skin Fevers of all Rheumatism Tumors Bowel Com- kinds Retention of Ulcers plaints Fits Urine Vencral Affec- Colics Gout Scrofula, or King's tions Constipation 1 lead- ache Evil Worms of all kinds of the Indigestion Debility Weakness from Bowels Consumption Scurvy whatever cause Sold at the Establishment of PROFESSOR IIOLLOWAV, ' 214, Strand, ( near Temple Mar,) London, and by most all respectable Druggists, and Dealers ill Medicines throughout the civilized World, at the following prices:— Is. lid., 2s. 9d., 4s. 6d., lis., 22s., 33s. each Box. There is a considerable saving by taking the larger sizes. N. li.— Directions for the guidance of l'atients in every Disorder are affxed to each Box. EXTKAOrvDINARY SUCCESS OF THE NEW REMEDY. — UPWARDS OF 17,000 CURES WITHOUT A SINGLE FAILURE. I) R. WALTER DE ROOS, 1, Ely- place, Holborn- hffl, London 1/ earnestly invites every one suffering from those dangerous dls eases arising from Solitary Habits, Excesses, and Infection in a their stages and varieties, which from improper treatment so frequently end in Skin Ernptions, Gravel, Inflammation of vidneys. Pains in the Back and Loins, Stone in the Bladder, and itimately DEATH!— to avail themselves without delay of his imp n- tant. dis coveries, by which he is now enabled to treat with the utmost cer tainty of cure every stage and variety of this calamitous class of dis „ eases. It is a distressing fact that Secondary Symptoms, which is a species of lingering DEATH, are too frequently the result of the old method of treatment; but, thanks to science, he is now, after 22 years of study and experience, in possession of a remedy by which he guarantees a perfect and lasting cure. This fact has already been manifested in upwards of 17,000 cases ; and as a stronger as- surance he undertakes to cure, without hindrance to business, the most inveterate case in comparatively few days, or RETURN the MONEY. All those deemed INCURABLE are particularly invited. Country patients will be minute in the detail of their cases, as that will render a personal visit unnecessary. Females may, with the utmost safety, confide themselves to the care of Dr. DE ROOS, as the most inviolable secrecy and delicacy are observed, and as no two patients arc ever admitted at the same time, to the same room, or allowed to depart together, the posssibility of contact, or exposure, is entirely prevented. — Advice, with medicines, £ i. Patients corresponded with till cured. Hours, 10 till 1, and 4 till 8 ; Sundays, 10 till 1— Post Office Orders payable to Walter de Roos, M. D., 1, ELY- PLACE, IIOLBORN- HILL, LONDON. Read Dr. de Roos' Celebrated Work. Just published, 04th Thousand, 144 pages, Illustrated with numerous Coloured Engravings, in a sealed envelope, from the Author, in English or French, 2s., or free by post for 32 Stamps. THE MEDICAL ADVISER. An Essay on the Obligations of Marriage; the Treatment and Cure of all those Secret Disorders arising from early Excesses and Infections, with plain directions for the removal of every disqualification. " This work is indeed a boon to the public, as it lias the two- fold advantage of plainness and being written by a duly qualified man who evidently understands his subject."— Daily Times. The following are our appointed Agents:— London: W. COLE, Bedford- street, Oxford- street, Mile End.— Deptford: F. L. LYONS, 8, Broadway.— Greenwich : II. HILL, !>, Market- place. Bristol: COOK, Sims- place.— Manchester: HTE, WOOD, Oldham- street.— Leeds : A. MANN.— Glasgow: W. LOVE, Nelson- street.— Derby: BROOKES, St. AlkmundVchurchyard.— Leicester: BILLSON, Bellgrave- gate.— Beverley: AVARD, Butcher- row. - Banbury: BUNTON, Cherwell- street.— Sheffield: ROGERS, Fruit- market. Brighton: TOURLE, !> 7, Edward- street.— Newcastle- on- Tyne: FRANCE & Co., 8, Side. - Bradford, Yorkshire: W. COOKE, Vicar- lane. Printed and Published by the Proprietor, G. JOHNSTONE, 12, Russell- court, Brydges- street, Strand,