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Paul Pry, The Reformer of the Age

01/01/1849

Printer / Publisher: G. Edwards 
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 25
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Paul Pry, The Reformer of the Age

Date of Article: 01/01/1849
Printer / Publisher: G. Edwards 
Address: 12, Russell court, Brydges street, Strand
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 25
No Pages: 4
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IT IS A VIRTUOUS ACTION TO EXPOSE VICIOUS MEN."— DRTOEN, [ PRICE ONE PENNY. TOM'S • ROOM, EAGLE TAVERN, CITY ROAD. rtiarkable as the projection ou the skull of a wild beast. Caution is large, Firmness great, and so on in proportion. It is asserted that in man, the abuse of these developements are checked by other organs which may modify them, or by highly cultivated moral faculties which may divert their evil ten- dency to good. Thus, had I been a soldier I should have made an undoubtedly brave, but a savage end ferocious one. There was some place, position, or office in the creation, in which, had'circumstancea placed me, I should have proved a useful member of society. Had my infancy been better tended, my childhood better trained, all the future might have been avoided. Understand me, reader, once more also, that I write no line in repentance, I am only philosophising, as I have clearly a right to do. Wherever there is a tendency in man to commit excesses of any kind upon the impulse of the animal passions, the more particu- larly if the brain be so formed that these shall ba the prominent and original causes, there will ever be found the auxiliary con- comitants of time and place; in a word, opportunity will never be wanting. Had I dwelt in a desert, or been solitary as Robin- son Crusoe, I should have strewn the ground with the carcasses of slain animals, their bleached bones would have indicated the master passion of my mind— to kill! In civilised society there are restraints which a man cannot well break through. These, however, I have pre<- eminently destroyed. The fear of the law, the dread of punishment never for an instant could swerve me from my purpose, for by an almost unexampled cunning and foresight, I had the dexterity to destroy circumstantial evidence— to elude the vigilance of the myrmidons of justice, to lauglf at threats, to be secure as I am at this present moment. There is also another important element of my being which I must relate. I refer to the influence which my mother's act must have had upon me at my birth. The thirst of vengeance, the passion of hatred, both had so ramified themselves throughout her being, that it was also infused into me. I had absorbed with her very milk all the wicked essence of her most wicked nature. She made me what I am, and every event of my future life was tinged with the same sanguine hue. Domitian is said to have amused himself with catching flies, and then deliberately pulling them to pieces, gloating over their little struggles, so full of anguish, enjoying with great glee their grotesque attempts to escape with their wings or their legs torn off. He must have been cast in much the same mould as myself. Cruelty in the older ages of the world must have been refined. He who first laughed at the victim as he bellowed in the brazen hull of Phalaris, has my envy. 1 should have enjoyed it with an intense relish. I envy the inventor of the guillotine his remark- able machine. As I was not born when the reign of Terror existed in Paris, so have I felt a corresponding grief that no such event has taken place here, or within the range of my whereabout. I am a great criminal, it is true ; but it is not the less true that a life of crime, pursued upon purely scientific principles, is full of interest of the intensest kind. It is also true, that when the lives of the most prominent individuals are contrasted, the pre- ponderance of public favour goes with the greatest commander or leader, military or naval. He who has slain a hecatomb of men is crowned with laurel— his name is suffused . with a halo of glory. The mean trickster is whipped in the bridewell. The man who kills one only is hung up like a dog, and infamy is attached to his name. So much for the extreme in anything. But I must keep to the subject of my chaptor. My theories are not drawn from the general tendencies of men, but front my own personal experience. It cannot bo doubted but that a pre- THIS is not the first time that our attention has been called to the proceedings at the notorious " Eagle," proceedings which arc not characterized either by a regard for modesty, decency, or sense. They are scarcely elegant enough for a Sybarite, and lack one lit tle clement of the Corinthian order— though it may exist, we have not found it ourselves. In an establishment so vast, however, it would be marvellous if any of the incentives to vice, debauchery, or gaming were wanting. The Corinthians, besidos having a superb disregard for sobrioty or chastity, were accus- tomed to gamble with a kind of rapacious prodigality. We repeat, we have not seen the whole of the Eagle— yet. The amusements are inexhaustible, such as they are. The amused are certainly a singular genus. Most of them have the air of starved lackeys, doing a bit of the desperate in their fallen fortunes ; and the ingenuity with which these enjoyments are, as as it were, wire- drawn, so as to last the evening and the night, till the gray dawn, when those who " won't go home till morning" may have the opportunity of keeping their word— we say this ingenuity is admirable. Well may your admirers say, Oh, Eagle 1 " Bravo, Rouse!" " Bravo, Campbell!" '' Bravo, Church!" but, in fine, and above all things else, " Bravo, Tom"— Tom tho bald— Tom the blasphemer— Tom the drivelling ribald— Tom, whose oaths disgrace his years, and make his age dishonourable— bravo altogether!— and we make no doubt but that every " gent" within a mile of the celebrated City- road, who frequents tiiis place, whether an Israelite with mosaics in a high state of preservation— a clerk or a shopman in an advanced state of civilisation— he with an im- perial, aud he with the tuft— joins in this acclamation. There is a room in this establishment of convenient size, acco- modating dimensions, and attractive appearance, and in great demand, where, after the theatrical portion of the " intellectual" amusements are over, the more favoured or the initiated can retire, and continue the orgie incipiently commenced in the earlier part of the evening. To describe the scenes that ensue here at times is a task beyond our power, and that power is acknow- ledged to be wonderful in its way. And even if we were to attempt it, so monstrous would the bare truth seem, that our vera- city, always unquestionable, might be doubted by those who ate unacquainted with such places. You behold that old man ad- vancing forward with some liquor, Heaven alone knows its com- posite parts, for we don't, to the riotous specimen of young England seated on the table. If that old fellow can by an acci- dent take an order, or fulfil it, receive payment, and forget the change, without double shotting his language with the most shocking oaths, it must be by an accident which destroys the usual laws of progression with him. He may omit his string of pro- fanity in a state of somnambulism, thongh it is to be doubted. He may be very mild, but even then it is utterly accidental. If any individual can remember an omission on his part— old Tom's— of this characteristic trait in hiB fine and original nature, viz., swearing with or without cause, in a way fit to raise the veneer from tho tables, let him make his depositions at our office, and he shall, if credibly sustained, receive five pounds reward from our own pri- vate purse! The finest and the ugliest women of the town congregate there. It is a mart of prostitution, where the courtezan waits for the assignation to be made, is this room ; we will not indicate its whereabout, for we wish our friends to remain, if possible, in ignorance of it. Here the rake upon a small scale can display with impunity, if he pleases, all the deficiencies of liis common sense; and here, also, ho can perfect his vieious lesson, if he ehooses to appeal to any one of the " ladies." They are not mealy- mouthed, bless you— quite the contrary; for if the young, fast fellows who are " seeing tho world" do but'", r< w them up " to the sticking pitch," they wilf stick at nothing in the way of their vocation. That fellow who wears his brains outside his head, while the cranium itself is stuffed with wool, is a type of the class who aggregate in this chamber of confusion. lie is twitching up the dress of Anne R—, whose leg is not a bit the finer by being ex- posed, and while perfectly acquainted with the alphabet of her trade, is in a state of seeming ignorance. She knows better than he what he is about. Behind him is one whocBn play billiards to a nicety, though what he does for a living is not very apparent. Oh ! my son, say I, Paul, beware of a billiard- sharp. The bully or the brothel- keeper is a human devil too black and dirty to be touched ; but you do now and then come in contact with yon sharper; beware of him, then, I beseech you. There are a great many things I would warn you against, but I forbear to particu- larize them, lest I should raiso within you an inclination to be disobedient at the outset. The time of closing up this room is one of the mysteries of Udolpho— no one knows it. There may be a lock and a key, but we will not swear that the room is ever, at any time, destitute of visitors. It is one of those benevolent contrivances of a benevo- lent man, who is unwilling that any one should be without a shelter if he can possibly pay for it. Such philanthropists are not rare in London. You are provided with choice company, or rather more various than choice. You are entreated to be happy, and Tom will swear for your amusement, or fetch you grog. This said room, we apprehend, cannot be under the same rules and classification as any of the others. Its counterpart may be found' however, in some remote corncrs of the Palais- Royal, or within a stone's throw of the Elysee Bourbon. THE MURDERER FOUND! CHAPTER IV. ORGANIZATION. THESE deeds, while they created a sensation, for a lime relieved my mother from any further fears or suspicions, for they had cleared away both the actors and the evidence of the crime. She mourned not for her lost lover, because he had himself trampled out the fire of ber affection, and after smouldering in its own ashes a brief time, entirely died away. Some time after she re- moved from the scene of the late tragedy, and with the concur- rence of my guardians, who cared little for her, but much for me, she took a retired cotjage in Essex, where for a time I grew and and throve, and she appeared to have found in this solitude that ease, peace, and comfort her ungovernable passions had deprived her of. An elderly woman had been engaged as my nurse, of whom I have nothing to say, but that she was one of those kind, good- tempered old creatures who delight in children, and who are never more pleased than when surrounded by them. My remain- ing venerated parent eared little or nothing for me. She suckled me, because it was a relief to her. No maternal tenderness, however, exhibited itself in her conduct towards her child, so that the old nurse, at times, was greatly scandalised. I have now an opportunity of speaking a little of that faculty which creates events and fulfils our destiny— I mean the mental organization of a man, derived principally, as far as I have read ( for I do not profess to be learned in these abstruse matters), from the shape and form of the brain. My cranium exhibits, therefore, an immense superiority iu that particular part where the convo- lutions or lobes indicate the existence of the animal passions. Thus the organ of dejtructivcness is exaggerated till it is as re 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. dilection for any particular line of life, a i , rofession, business, | or what not, is impressed the more vividly, b some connection near or remote; and the facts I have detailed, a< occurring before my birth, will furnish the pages of the philosopher, at some future day, with illustrations. While so much depends upon the physical structure of the brain, it may be assumed that the skull can be trained, and, so to speak, that the best faculties alone may be developed. This would be false reasoning. If the faculty of reverence be deficient, you cannot increase the momentum of tbe brain, though you may affect the suture of the skull. The Caribs from infancy depress the forehead, and, consequently, drive that portion of the brain, which should fill a lofty and broad forehead, to the back and anterior sides of the skull; but it is not proved that their animal passions are in greater proportion than those of many thati we are in daily contact with, and whose natures are mild and pacific. The only thing done in this case then, is, the limiting the power of the moral faculties, and restricting, in every sense of the term, their sphere of action. There is always'in man some kind of compensation, some necessity of advantage, between the mental and the animal passions; the former regulates the latter, for if such were not the case, 1 question, if among any ancient nation, whose depravity has become proverbial, any could be found to exceed in the lowest vices, the members of society in general, as it exists.* [ To be continued.] PAUL AMONG THE PUBLICANS- Bungs have at ye ail, OR, DISSIPATION! COURTIERS AND COURTESANS: A TALE OP FASHIONABLE LIFE. ( Continued from our last.) THE WOODMAN, WATERLOO TOWN ; MR. HAYWARD. WE are compelled in our wanderings about town to see strange sights, and to drop into places for the sole purpose of guarding the unwary from falling into pits dug for them, that make our very flesh creep upon our bones. Whilst in the neighbourhood of the Woodman the other evening, we heard the sounds of music ( qy.) issuing from the aforesaid hostelry, and feeling somewhat curious as to the nature of the amusements, we determined to onter. A ball, or rather a " hop," was being held here for the benefit of tbe worthy host, and to the apparent delight of the motley group. The fiddler was torturing an instrument in a woful manner, whilst two or three were dancing " reels" in the centre of the room. By and by a row commenced, when pots flew about, and beer ( the principal beverage drank) flowed in copious streams upon the floor. We saw several very young girls, apparently 14 or 15 years of age, romping with some very flash- looking young men, and thought within ourselves what a pity it is such places should be tolerated; for the destruction, the inevitable destruction of these young creatures, stared us in the face. Here, without the knowledge of their parents, they are in the habit of assembling, and nightly listening to conversation, that in the end cannot fail to corrupt their minds, and lead them, step by step, to ruin. We, from this time forth, declare war against such dens, and from east to west-, from porth to south, will un- kennel them, so that tbe authorities shall have no excuse for allowing such nuisances to exist. A license for music these worthies never think of obtaining, but in spite of law ( feeing, of course, the police, or inspector of the division to keep silent) they carry out their nefarious practices. To the publican who would be honest, and who takes out a license for music, these places are a dead robbery. We shall drop in again on a future evening, and if we find no alteration, we will publish the names of most of the frequenters. Take this hint as a warning; and, Mr. H., improve the tone of your commodities, and you will be enabled to compete with your neighbours, without resorting to twopenny " hops" to fill your till. THE AMIABLE TWIN BEADLES. CANTO THE FOURTH. THE ARGUMENT. fc? Fools described; their varieties— The Skipperini's Italian Blood— Bloom- field's Soul— Graham's Heart— Alfred looks forward to making Sir Julius doubly a Cuckold— The Late Marquis of H » ** » " d at Richmond— The Game of Battledore and Shuttlecock— The Dying Debauche's last Exploit— The Reverend Turbot Pond— His partiality for Foreign Fair Ones— The Skip jierini's Mother; Her skill in Cookery— And in Love Philtres— Lucy's Reverie — Lord Alfred Rodomont Walks in— Seduction— Lucy's Falf— Tlie Pleasures off" Revenge "— Fathead's Happy Unconsciousness. GOD knows, that in this comfortable world, Where I and you unconsciously were hurled, Because our fathers liked our mother's eyes Or coveted their acres for a prize, • Which blessed union sent us wretches hero, To curse, to sigh, to shed the bitter tear, With every chance— if parsons speak what's true—• Of being neatly d— d hereafter, too; God knows, I say, that in this world of ours, Fools may be found in every place— all hours. ' Tis true DIOGENES, in time of yore, Might need ( and in our times would need it more) A lantern's light to aid his hopeless plan Of finding here below an honest man; ' But had the hero of the Cynic school Searched at his leisure merely for ttfool, No light was wanted! In the human mass, You touch alternately a knave or— ass Yes, there are fools in plenty, and to spare. The dad who dreams of fondness from his heir; The wealthy Damon who expects to find A Pythias of disinterested mind; Old maids, whom snuffling missionaries fleece, To " propagate" abroad the " word of peace;" Young Epglanders, with curious coats ' and hats; Who'd beSl old England's wounds with— cricket bats, And feed the people, when they cry for bread, With " Sybil's " clap- traps and " Sidonia's " lead. Yes, there are fools, and fools in various ways; The pious fool, who after PUSEY prays, The Vulgar fool, who slaps you on the back, Tbe nervous fool, who trembling, fees a quack, The titled fool, in foppery and lace, The fashionable fool, with vain grimace, The scribbling fool who in an " Annual" writes, The critic fool, wild pointless jibes indites; The boy who thinks his mistress will be true, The lord who borrows money of a Jew; The dupe; who trusraTa lawyer's purchased zeal, The stupid Tory, who believes in PEEL. T. ftese are all fools, I'll own. it, if you will; But there is one who is a greater still— A bald old baronet, whose flickering fires Betray the efforts of his lewd desires-^- Wedded to youth and beauty by a chain Which ought to bind him, though it bind in vain, Who yet forsaking what he ought to watch, ( Lest Stronger hands the treasured rose should snatch), Keeps ah Italian dancer with his pelf, Keeps her, indeed, for others and— himself! A raw weeks back the whole of London was thrown into a state of dismay, by tho serious outbreak between the illustrious the Beadles of the Fields of Lincoln's Inn and the Market of Clare, which was only healed by the intervention of PAUL PKY, who is liappy in calling the attention of his numerous readers to ano ther incident in beadleism of quite a contrary nature. Not far dis- tant from Shepherd's Theatre of Varieties, are situated two ver- dant retreats, known as Nelson and West squares, which reckon among their inhabitants many of the hiyhli,- talentert ladies and gentlemen enjjfaged by the firms of Owbaldiston, Shepherd, and Batty, and to each square is attached due o those eminent func- tionaries termed beadles. Now, those beadles unlike their com- peers mentioned above, are uniied in friendship, and a few days since met to celebrate the birth- day anniversary of him of Nelson- square ; and a splendid day they made of it, the morning being ushered in by the ringing of bells and beating of door- mats, in both the squares; and at nine o'clock the beadle of West- square, attended by a full retinue of water- cress boys, reached the Lord Nelson, where he was quickly joined by him of Nelson, and a re- cherche breakfast was served up in the tap- room, consisting of coffee from the stall in tbe New Cut, saveloys from Stretton's, trotters, peas- pudding, faggots, fried fish, and other delicacies in season in tha,. fashionable quarter, which, as well as sundry half- pints of porter and pennyworths of gin, were done ample justice to. The procession now started to review the kitchen windows round the square, and after being received with open eyes by cooks, & c., started along the Blackfriars- road, honouring each public- house in . the';- route with a call, until they reached the City Arms Here they dined in sumptuous style, the principal dishes being Worrall's soup, Aldis's plumb- pudding, in penny slices, and baked potatoes, from the Waterloo- rood, with gin and beer ad libitum, made small for the occasion. The afternoon was , spent in a game of leap- frog, and tea- time found both the beadles— dead- drunk. Thus terminated this highly interesting festiyal, without casualty of any kind, except the locking up of one cadger for a month who actually had the audacity to beg of the beadle of Nelson- square, THE PHILANTHROPY OF THE DAY!—" Fourteen unfortu- nate prisoners were condemned to transportation at the last assizes.'' How shocking and cruel! Seeing this example of the philanthropic cant of our time in the newspaper, we sought a look at the convictions, and found there were only two for man- slaughter ; one for child murder, mitigated by the finding of the jury and sentence; five burglaries, in one of winch an old lady had been frightened to death ; two forgeries, one of which had defraudejl a widow and innocent family, and steeped them in years of misery, and the other had impoverished a number of respectable persons ; one attempt at assassination; and three highway robberies, with violence. Unfortunate transports! NOTE BY THE ANNOTATOR.— This chapter is more descriptive than in- structive, though it must be interesting to trace the opinions of such a man writing upon liis- own motives, endeavouring to discover, in something within, the reasons that led him to the perpetration of a series of atrocities, which are enough " to make the seated heart knock at the ribs," and the cheeks to turn pale with terror. It must be evident to the reader, that the preliminary chapters are dic- tated from hearsay. There is the evidence of something like art in this con- struction, though the main'facts be evidently true. By reference to the journals of about the same date, as other subsequent deeds are related, there is certainly correlative proofs that the man is not writing under the impulse of monomania, butobviously making a confession, which is natural enough. Great criminals have, in repeated instances, taken delight in relating their exploits of rapine or of murder, dwelling upon some of the most thrilling inci- dents, with a sentiment of horrible delight, and so far from glozing over any particular part, the meaning has been so bared that not tho slightest or the smallest particular has been lost sight of. The mother evidently had her secret and most violent passions developed to an exaggerated degree. She must have been like many before, or since, one of those splendid depravities upon whom we gaze, as upon some horribly hideous monster, whom we admire with a shudder, while shrinking from it with abhorrence. To a certain extent, his deduction on his own mental or- ganization is correct, and, according to the canons laid both by the physiog- nomists and the phrenologists; we must not, after all, laugh at the theories of the latter; there is too much truth in them for us to pass them lightly Oyer; but we must not go to the full extent of the more credulous, and conceive that ja badly organized brain is the ahsolute and final cause of crimes. There is the power of the will and the mind still more dominant, and to this we must defer. The next chapters plunge us at once into the autobiography of this singular character; and while their diction is sometimes stilted and exaggerated, it is also vivid and impressive. On the whole, a great moral lesson ( so we trust) may be taught. The SKIPPERINI, whose Italian blood Rushed in an ardent and impetuous flood, Was not a damsel likely to retain Her hot love for a solitary swain— For one, especially, around whose head Age had its venerable halo shed; Leaving as little warmth wi£ hin its veins As BLOOMFIELD'S soul, or GRAHAM'S heart contaius. Sir Julius, then, as pretty well was known, Owned more than one gay rival near his throne. The bright Signora was a worthy soul, And gladly took froui'effery luster toll j Thinking, perhaps—( these courtesans, at times, HaVe curious notions ' midst their darkest crimes)— That, like tbe MAGDALEN who entered Heaved, The more she " loved," the more she'd be " forgiven!" Of all the unacknowledged ones who kissed, ALFRED, of course, was foremost on the list. His lordship had, you know, a prior claim, In days of old, upon the wanton dame; Besides, he'd been the channel through which rolled Unto her purse the tide of FATHEAD'S gold; So, if not love, yet gratitude, at least, Would keep for him some portion of the feast. And though my lord had somewhat weary grown Of the Signora— when she was bis own— There was a kind of piquancy and zest In being thus perfidiously caressed— Defrauding poor Sir JULIUS of his dues, And looking forward, with extended views, To make him cuckold, doubly in his life— First with the mistres, secondly— the wife! Now, our Signora had a soul above The little things of simple earthly love; Her nature was religiously inclined-*!- She owned a certain piety of mind ; So, to atone for baronet and lord, She kept a reverend petto- be. adored ; Hoping, no doubt, his purity would throw Upon her foibles something of its snow; That, placed beneath tbe. oegis of the Church, She might, at last, leave Satan in the lurch. Her holy choice^ not holier than fond— Was called by men " the Reverend TUIIBOT POND." He was a worthy pillar of the creed, Sprung from a genuine spiritual breed; His sire ( now dead) by faith— or interest— won A bishopric, while this, liis lucky son, Owned a fair portion, though his life was loose, Of " loaves and fishes" for his ghostly use. When priests, forgetful of ( He heavenly path, And all the thunders of the dftj of wrath, By some sad hazard, happen to resign To sinful lust their energies divine, Those holy persons, it must be confessed, From Satan's dainties always choose the best; Err with far more discernment than the troop Of vulgar profligates to vice who stoop, And feel in sin a gusto more refined Than we poor godless. laymen ever find! The Reverend TUIUSOT, I : nusi own, in sooth, Had for the ladies quite a liquorish tooth; He loved to study, in its pure undress, His Maker's noblest work— their loveliness; And not contented with the English lair, He sought for dames more spicy, warm, and rare; Never so blest as when he ei a' . aed to win Some new and pretty bit o£ foreign sin. There must bo something that is wondrous sweet In foreign harlots— something quite a treat; Something that is most marvellously nice; Since peers and priests— those epicures in vice- When bent to gratify their lawless flatnes, Always prefer exotic beauty's claims To the less tempting, somewhat tasteless fare, Which English courtesans too often are. H****** d, you know, that lord of boundless wealth, And that leviathan of boundless— filth, At Richmond closed his crapulous career, With two French women, whom the dying peer Made, in a state of nature, stand and play AS battledore and shuttlecock, they say! Such was the scene on which his languid eyes Fixed, in their raptures— not upon the skies ; Such was the scene which rang his funeral knell, And sent one more aristocrat to h—! ( To be continued.) SOCIAL PESTS- No. I. t " Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts- Dash him to pieces''— SHAKSPERE. " GOD forbid !" we exclaimed, after perusing a letter sent to us, " God forbid that it should be true! God forbid that such a wretch should be allowed to live and blast the earth with his pre- sence ; that he should be enabled to pass through the streets un- known ; that the blighting curse of Cain should not be promi- nently fixed upon his forehead, so that honest men might avoid, and shun the plague- spot he hath for ever tainted by his presence." We have headed this article " Social Pests," and the subject we have chosen for our first, is one of the very worst description. But he is free— the law cannot touch him; which shows, more than anything else, the great necessity for a journal like PAUL PRY, of independent principles, and unimpeachable honesty. We were the first, and we are the last, of the many sheets which have lately issued from the press to expose vice; many of them having rose to- day, and set on the morrow for ever. It wrings our hearts as we glance over the contents of the paper now lying before us ; and, though we do not hold the poor unhappy wife guiltless— as to our thinking, when first solicited, by the wretch calling hims'elf her husband, to sell herself, she should have left him in disgust— still, she is entitled to our aid in exposing so heartless, so worthless a vagabond. The letter runs thus:— " Sir— I was married to a Wretch, for I cannot call him a man, at the age of seventeen years. Shortly after, he wished me to make a friend of some gentleman, which I refused in disgust, in consequence of which, he began to ill- use me. Things went on very miserable for some time. About six years ago, he brought home bis young master, a youth of about eighteen years of age. For three years he ljjade him a constant visitor at our house. During that time an attachment sprung up between us, which my husband was perfectly Aware of, and gave this young man every encouragement, which, to my sorrow, ended in my dishonour. When I. told my husband what had happened, he smiled at me, and told ms that it was just what he wanted, and he urged me to get money out of the young man, and said, he Should never want for work while I allowed his young master to visit me as often as he thought proper. For two years before I left my home, I was receiving money from this young man, which my husband knew of. The sums I received varied from 11. to 21. 10s. per week, which I expended in my home. The things I bought with that money he now wishes to claim, besides wishing me to support him by my dishonour, and threatens me if I do not give him money." " O, shame, where is thy blush ?" Is there a man bold enough to say such an one does not deserve exposure ? We think not. Wretch ! if you have no conscience left; if you ire bereft of every sense of shame, from the very corners of the earth shall you be hunted, and the finger of scorn be for ever pointed at you. The letter concludes with:— " This is the truth, as I hope for mercy hereafter. Had he acted as a man to me, I should now be a virtuous woman; instead of which, I am very miserable." Here is a man, who marries a mere girl, and, after being mar- ried but a short time, wishing her to sell her charms for Ills sup- port. Faugh! it makes our very blood run cold. We have his name, and the firm for whom he works ; as a proof of this, be is a French polisher, and his factory is near Moorfields. Let him mend his vile conduct, or we will so expose him to the world, that his name shall be as a mockery,— a jest, and he be held in loathing and contempt. EPITHALAMIC EPIGRAMS FOR SHEFFIELD. MR. EDWARD HARPER TO MRS. PITT. Harper has ta'en unto his arms, A wife both meet and fit; And may she find sweet music's charms Steal nightly o'er her— Pitt. MR. THOMAS MORGAN TO MISS WEI1STER. Brave Morgan stirs within his web, A lover's joy to find ; Proceed— and ere a week hath sped, You'll find it to your mind. JOHN SHIELD TO MISS SARAH BltOOKl'IELD. Shield him from harm, ye gods, whilst in the brook He struggles, madly for the distant shore ; Guard from the sacred stream each prying look, Nor interrupt them till their joy be o'er. MR. T. B. TURNELL TO MISS SARAH LEAFE. Turn ( vf) ell each leaf, and when you've read them throu gh, You've done a task all mortals wish to do. CASINOS. WE have received a notice from a correspondent about Casinos and their frequenters. We subjoin a few remarks from his well- written note, at the same time, assuring him that we have our eye upon all plaees of this description, which we intend to expose for the benefit of society at large. " The generality of persons attending such places are women of the lowest grade, who, however, manage to dress well, with a very fair sprinkling of pickpockets and swell- mobsmen, and occasionally a respectable man or so, who generally leaves about 10 o'clock. There are nicknames to every night in the week— Monday is termed the snob's night, Tuesday, the empty swell's night, Wed- nesday, the old un's night, Thursday, the middling's, Friday, the heavy swell's night, and Saturday, the chummies' night, when a rare sprinkling of shopmen and porters from Regent- street and the City assemble, who are supposed to spend more on that even- ing than any other class on the preceding evenings. The follow- ing are a list of the prices charged for refreshment and their actual value. Prices charged, s. d. Sherry cobbler 1 Bottle of champagne .. 10 Pint ditto 5 Bottlo of port 5 Pint ditto 2 Bottle sherry 0 Pint ditto 3 Ices I Sponge cake 0 Bisouit 0 Their profits, averaged on everything sold, would amount to above 90 per cent. Two bottles of wine are converted into three, whilst at the same time it is of very questionable quality. Cost price. 0 G 6 0 6 0 0 4 2 2 d. 2 0 0 6 9 6 9 8 0|. Oi 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. PAUL ADVISES Monsieur G— ti, tbe great French monopolist, of Coppice- row, Clerkenwell, to let the world know to which one of his numerous trades he really has a legitimate claim. In Clerkenwell he is an artificial flower- maker; in the same parish, a lithographic printer ; in the Westminster- road he holds two establishments for the sale or fancy articles ; at Tanner's- end, Edmonton, he has manufac- tories for making beads, coloured glass, & c.; in Holborn he makes and sells real Italian chocolate; in another place he is co- partner with a vanrproprietresa; and in every leading thoroughfare we find hiin roasting chcsnuts on an improved principal. . If not a hnngry monopolist, what is MonBieur G— ti, the . Frenchman ? Wc are bound to protect the industrious English artizan from these overreaching speculators, and shall at all times expose in- novation. Mr. A. P— n, the hair- dresser and bonnet- builder, of Eyre- street- hill, Leather- laiie, - to give- up that namby- pamby small- beer style of life which he has followed for the last few years. Come, come, Andrew, " assume a virtue, thougli you have it not." Allow the old woman to clean yoUf house and wash tttfe children; and, like a man, operate in your o# n business. Be up and stir- ring, you old whaoky. You formerly possessed impudence enough to attempt anything, and was laughed at accordingly. If there is one virtue predominating in Paul's composition more than another, it is that Of a retentive memory. You ( Andrew) are the only living and original three- handed actor— we defy the world to produce another 1 Never shall we forget that immortal attempt at the mysterious, when you tried to distort your unbean- ing phiz into a frown; and, after a most circuitous rush, begun thus, and of course there ended :— " With one hand I seized the ruffian by the throat; With this I tore the woman from His damn'd etnbraee— And with the other stabbed him to the heart." The applause was deafening, and you well deserved it. We in- tend shortly to give the real history and progress of various living actors who emerged originally from George Bissmine's shed in Eawstorne- court, and among a long list of conspicuous and shin- ing characters who now grace our metropolitan boards, will we baud down to posteuty, the name of A— wP— n, barber, trage- dian, singer, tumbler, and bonnet- builder. Miss K— e, of West— d street, Marylebone, to wash her mouth a little oftener, as the noxious odour arising from her breath must bo displeasing to any young man whom she may endeavour to cap- tivate. Also Miss E— a, of the same street, not to roll her eyes about so much, as if performing the Infernal Queen in some san- guinary- constructed melodrama. Paul has some hope of her, as she is young and thoughtless. S— 1 R— h, of the Middlesex Turnpike- roads, to enter his pony for the races, as Paul is given to understand that it is one of the best runners in Stratford or Whitcchapel. We are sorry that Samuel has lost confidence with the Whitchapel lady. E— d R— r, the man milliner, of Great Percy street, Bagnigge- wells road, not to be so much puffed up with pride and impudence. Although he does dive on the profits arising from the labour of a few young women, that is no rcaBon why he should took with con- tempt on people quite as good, if not better than himself. Does he remember the time he sold flowers for the firm near the Eagle Tavern ? Mrs. S— s, of the Polygon, Somers Town, to attend more to her own little cock- sparrow than that dark tobacconist recently of Charles street in the same neighbourhood. Mrs. C— t, of Robert's mews, HampBtead road, not to be so often in the Prince of Wales. It would be better to stop at home and attend her sick sister, Mrs. II— y. Mons. G— u, of the Hotel d'Europe, Leicester square, to attend more to his own business, and not run about with that old woman whom he calls his housekeeper. Mrs. L— s, the foreman at W— ns's, bookbinder, in Gravel lane, Southwark, not to be so overbearing to the workwomen; and not to be so fast in locking the door in the morning; consider that you are only a workwoman yourself. W. D— s, alias the snob of C— y's printing establishment, Bread- street hill, to pay those Jtrifles on a Saturday night, and not go hiding in the water closet, and telling the parties he will come to them. T. T— t, at the shoe Shop, Fore street, Limehouse, not to pre- tend to be so very modest. Does lie remember the game in tbe barge along with W. L— r ? Miss T— r, of Fore street, Limehouse, not to be peeping into other people's business. How long has your head been so high in the world? Mr. F. R. P— t, who uses a certain public- house in the neigh- bourhood of Queen street, Seven Dials, not to waste his time but to look after his own interest. Miss R— a P— s, daughter of the Jolly Sailor, Walwoirth common, not to be so fond of deceiving so many young men. ' Jfhe trap is laid— and if not careful, the rosy- faoed girl will become its victim. Old L— e, the beadle of St. George's Camberwell, to reform for the last time; if he does not, we must be under the painful necessity of informing the parson. G. H—, grocer, near the Kingsland gate, not to frequent the Rod Cow, Dalton, BO much. How about Polly ? That big boy, at L— n's, in Pont street, Chelsea, not to think so much ef himself; and also be satisfied with one wife; and not to fancy that all the girls are in love with him now. H— y It— e, of Union street, Borough road, not to be seen lurking about the dust- yard so much, watching the dust carts and raking the cinders over. Mr. W— r, of the Duke of Sussex, High street, Kensington, not to take so many sly drops of brandy in his wife's absence, or it may prove his ruin ; and not to think quite SD much of himself. It is but a few months since he stood at the side bar as a common turnpike man. Mr. R— d G— y L— s, of Holloway, to mind what he is about with the waitress at the Chancery lane coffee- house, or he will get into the wrong box. How about the wig? and how is Mrs. R. G. L? J. I- I— m, the young butcher, of Battersea fields, not to be seen with so many girls in his parlour, as we think it looks very bad. Mr.- C— s, alias Phelps, who murdered the Edward Howard, in " Self- Accusation," at the Gough street Theatre, not to fancy he will ever be able to act. A more decided break down there couldn't bo than your attempt. Mr. C— s had better look to the chandler's shop on Saffron hill. W— m G— y, of Gun lane, Limehouse, S— d's machine boy, not to get drunk on a Saturday night; likewise to take those bristles off his upper lip, and not look like a monkey. Does all Lime- house belong to him? Mr. K— y, the butcher of Old Fish street, City, to send larger remittances to the la, dy and two children at Stoke Newington, and not be seen so often taking his drops at the corner, and whisper- ing to Mrs. P— 1, the landlady, that he has plenty of money, and does not know who to leave it to, he being a bachelor. The dark little man, E— d C— e, of Crombie's place, Commercial road, to pay more attention to Miss B—, of Grange road, instead of being seen so much in the company of the dark- eyed Jewess, at the numerous threepenny dancing shops, cyder cellars, & c. Does he remember Susan G— y, and the half- crown a week, eh ! Mind how you conduct yourself, Neddy. Miss M— y A— n L— e, of Brighton street, Judd street, New road, not to look over tho way quite so much after Mr. M— n. F— k A— tt, Bride lanef Fleet street, to sew up the seat of his breeches; also not to. take the dirty oil off the cutting machine to put on his hair when he goes to meet J— e W— s; for the stench is so intolerable, that if he continues the use of it, she will have nothing moredo with him. Mrs. C. I— s, of Union place, Glasshouse yard, Goswell street, to drink less gin and use less scandal. Miss J— B— e, of Currier's- row, Blackfriars, not to run after that penny barber. He ought to be ashamed of himself to keep her until twelve o'clock at night at the street- door. W. H—, of Jubilee- place, Commercial- road, to attend more to his work than looking after the servant girls and singing room. Mr. C— s W— n, watchmaker and coal- merchant, corner of Great Northampton- street, St. John- street road, to do justice to his customers in the coal line, and look after his wife instead of that old creature in his first floor. Mr. A— k, of Gold square, Crutched Friars, carman, not to be such a slave- drivet to his men, and to pay them early of a Satur- day night. W— m P— e, at M'D— d's grocers, Kingsland- road, not to think so much of himself, nor fancy that every young lady falls in lovewith him. J— s G— s, of Canal- road, Kingsland road, not to go after so many young lkdles but io keep to one. How about the stones, Jeminy? The young men ^ t Mr. W—' s tea- shop, High street, Poplar, to attend more to their master's business and less to the young girl's. Keep the fig- box off the counter, or We shall let some- thing else out, my boys. • Mrs. P— n, owner of the Penny Gaff, at Poplar, not to allow so many boys smoking short pipes. We shall pay you a visit soon, and give some account of the performances; so look out, old boy. R. C. S—- h and G— e P— e, of Golden terrace, Barnsbury road, Islington, and clerks in the bank, to pay their debts of honour ( or their bets), arid the latter not to borrow money. How about Esther, round in the Grove ? does J. P. still visit her— and does he pay her? II— y A— e, of Hatton garden, to attend more to his papa's wishes, than playing with the young girls so much, and getting them discharged. Look out, Henry, or you will be caught again. 0 OMNIBUS DRIVERS AND CONDUCTORS. Bill G— r, of Paddington, to boast less of the married women he is intimate with. Flash H— y B— e, driving the sham Wellington, not to brag so much about being ready to marry any woman for a new suit of clothes. Bill P— y, driver of a Paddington twopenny bus, to pay more attention to his home. • a, of Bayswater, not to dye his hair so jet black. The Mrs. B— cl, Dock Row, not to send her daughter Mary to wha is commonly called " my uncle's." It does not look well. DEPTPORD.— W— m G— e, of High Street, Deptford, not to wink liis eye at the girls so much; but to think more of his wife at New York. It. is disgraceful in a married man. Two young ladies, not five miles from the victualling office, to be careful after leaving All Saint's church on Sunday evenings. Paul has his eye upon you. Mr. E— a S— h, grocer, of High Street, Deptford, not to be con- tinually making after a widow named B— y, of Rotherhithe, thereby neglecting his family and poor old wife, who was the means of first starting him in business. •* H. F— e, of 68 Stowage, Deptford, not to be seen every night in the Broadway, waiting for the servant at the post- office to come out for the beer. Mr. G— e W— r, not to be seen at the Five Bells, sN'ew Cross, so often. GREENWICH.— J— e G— 1, the baptist minister, of Norfolk Place, East Greenwich, not to be seen tipsy in the Trafalgar Road. By- the- bye, old boy, if you laugh I will point. The head clerk of the victualling department, Deptford dock- yard, to be carefui how he makes assignations with a certain lady's maid at the Nunnery close by. Take Paul's advice— be careful, or else he will expose you about the letters that passed through his hands. The chaunters of St. Mary's church, not to make such an un- pleasant noise, as it is not considered very melodious. Mr. M. C—, clerk at Mr. P— s, the Beehivebrewery, not to think so much of himself. WOOLWICH.— Miss B— n, a certain young lady of High street, not many yards from the Cooper's Arms, not to be quite so affected, and not to think a husband is to be. ciught by a tightly- laced waist, or a padded bust, eyea if it is. a branch of her trade. Mr. S— 1, of C— 1, not to be quite so conceited in his shop, nor so hard upon his tenants. Does he forget when he was one himself? Miss C— e E— s, of a stamp- office in High street, not to think quite so much of J— h W— s, a near neighbour of her's. We think it would look much better of her to wait till he gives her some reason to think he is in lovewith her. Miss M. C— e, of Unity place, not to go running about the town at such late hours. Master J. M— d, of Warwick street, not to be such a Molly, and to mind his o> vn business. Mrs. C— ke, of St. Mary street, to do away with the parrot, and get a nest of starlings, as they will please her husband better. J. M— r, of Powis street, not to think the girl on Sandy hill is in love with him, nor boast so much about his doings with M. R— e, up Love lane, of a night. ESSEX. Miss L— d, of Rebecca place, Woodford, not to be seen at play so often with a certain young man, pulling down and disfiguring his raven locks, and saying she would put them in place again for" a kiss ; but to pay a proper respect to her widowed mother and home. His Woodford friends to be on their guard, as there is a jackall constantly prowling about seeking whorii he may devour, but under ; disguise, pretending to be their protector. We are aware this beast is the lions provider, but we are no lions, therefore we need not his assistance, but would much rather prefer his being confined M ^ lOTlltaJS llalC 80 J6t WaCk' The ih MLTc-^ X'gracefs daughter/ of Plaistow, not to be out naBilfp— e^ of Baysvrater! tXSSand not fancy himself 1 fh H' E" .<* How about the the best coachman on the road. donkey- cart. Miss S— li, the conceited shop- girl, at Mr. M—- s, Stratford, to think less of herself, end not fancy etery young man is in love with her. Miss G— r, of Ilford, not to think so much of herself, because she has had a blesssed baby. How about the toll- gate, my girl? Mrs. B— y, thexwould- be- tliought modest widow, daughter of R— d L— b, the small jeweller of Stratford, not to expect to get a MIDDLESEX. Q— d, of the Salutation, Hammersmith, to bo more just iu his dealings, and fill his measures; then he will have trade. C d, of George street, Hammersmith, not to beat his wife so much,- for the cry of murder quite disturbs the neighbours. Mr! E. B 11, of College Street, Homertou not to think so , geoond husband through boasting of her late one's respectability, much of himself; but when he goes down into the country again, Miss E_ a K_ n> the flash dress. makelvot Two Brewers row, to pay the many pounds he owes, t -, . Stratford, to be more civil to her neighbours, or we shall be obliged H- y T- d, of the Rose And, CroVn, Highgate^ not to make I to expose yom. disgraceful conduct It the turnpike. ~ " such a fool of himself on Sundays at church ; and not to think that the girl with the black velvet boiinet lined with pink is in love with him, for she thinks him a proud conceited puppy. G e S— h; alias Turpin, the flash baker, of Hammersmith, not to talk to the young women behind him, when he takes Miss E— h to Albion Hall. HAMPTON. \ y— m S— n, of Hampton Court, to attend more to his cooking, arid not to be seen so often at the mess- house door making pretty faces at all the girls who pass that way. \ V. L—, the butcher, to get married to Miss B—, the ladies maid, and not let the. Essex young man cut him out; for then all the folks would laugh at him. E. P—, coachman, to keep better hours, and not let his fellow servants go to a certain house so often for him. What would Miss p—( the dressmaker say, if she knew of liis doings, eh? E. B—, the baker's daughter, Hampton, to keep at home, and not run to the mess- house after E— d B—. HERTFORDSHIRE. G. F— d, alias - Glory, of Bushey, not to have so many fights EtboUt Miss E. M— d, of Little Bushey. We are afraid it will come to the knowledge of his grandmother. D. N— n, the milk boy, of Little Bushey, not to look after that dark- ej'ed young lady of Caldicot Hill so much when she visits her uncle, for we think it a very unequal match. He forgets he is not out of his teens. Mr. D. K— y, timber merchant, of Bushey, not to brag so much about the five hundred pounds that is in store for his daughter, for it is a query if a certain miller does not sink it. Miss S. S— s, not to think too much about a certain butcher of Bushey. He is only looking after the tin. KENT. Mrs. M— yn, of a certain building at Blackheath, not to allow her little chubby daughter to be walking about Maize Hill, and drinking at the George with that old sinner Mr. F— ws, who is fast verging upou ninety years. Mr. and Mrs. H— t, of the Royal Oak, Lee, not to be up so late of a night ; but to rise in the morning and attend to business, instead of allowing strangers behind their bar to serve the cus- tomers. Mr. T. M— s, the broker, of Chnrch Street, Lee, to leave og drinking so much, and to go home quiet and not break the furni- ture. J— n L— e, of Union Vale, Blackheath, not to pay so much at- tention to the females, as his gallantry is noticed by more than one. How about Miss S— w, of Blackheath Hill? She will break her heart if she knows it. Mr. J. S—, the butcher of West Wickham, not to stick up his shoulders, and think quite so much of himself, jwhen he is walking in High Street, Croydon. Mr. A— d C— k, tailor, of New Road, Chatham, to look a little more after the girl at the Medway Tavern, High Street, and not so much after his married landlady. GRAVESEND.— Mr. E— d M—, of Cottage Place, Gravesend, to look sharp and get married to Miss M—, of John Street. He may make a mess of it, as he has done many times before. Ned, my boy, you must not spend your money in lush, as you will have to pay 2s. Gd. per week very shortly. , J. M. B—, ofHarmer Street, professor of hair cutting, to stick more to his own trade, and let the toys alone. Mr. W— m T— s, of Northfleet, to marry M— y W— s, and not play the fool so much. How about losing your petticoat, old girl ? R— t C— n, Stratford, to stop more at home, and look more to his poor motherless children; not go swelling about with his penny pickwick, among the low girls of the town. The policeman, ( alias, the overgrown boy) of Ilford, not to think so much of the girl at the Lion of the above place. Mr. T— s S— d, the consequential fop of a bricklayer's son, of Wanstead, not to visit Stratford so much of an evening. R— t W— t, the curly- lieaded butcher- boy, of Wanstead, not to wear the curb chain to his watch. Miss W— e, milliner and straw bonnet maker, Bow, not to think so much of herself and dress. Mr. R— g, the Bus- conductor, of Wanstead, to be a little more livelier to his female passengers. Mrs. J— s, of Dyer's lane, Bromley, to pay more attention to her husband, Snd less to J— s P— s bedroom of a morning. A— s M—- g, of Dyer's lane, Bromley, when she goes to service, not to sham being deaf. M. A. B— k, of Chapel street, opposite King street, Stratford, not to dress so vulgar, and not to be so fond of showing that white shirt- front of, hers; as the young men frequently think her. to be one of the nymphs of the pave. We only give you a friendly hint, Polly. Mr. A— t B— in, of Bow, to beware, lest his father hears of his making dumplings for his dinner out of the flour used in the manufactory. Ben J— n, the: painter, of Bow, not to brag of his property so much. It only consists, of a few old houses behind his workshop, which are hardly w. orth having. SURREY. The Miss P— sy of Town's End, Kingston, not to run after so many- young men, nor fancy they are all in love with them. Miss W— s, Cricketer's Inn, Lower Mitcham, not to wear such an immense bustle as she did on the evening of the 2nd of March; is it because she likes the young men to take notice of her, as she is growing old rad ugly? Mr. H. P—, of the Red Lion, Richmond, not to wink his eye so much at the single young women, nor squeeze the married women's hands when he is giving them their change. The Miss M— s, of Red Lion street, Richmond-, not to patrole the street so much, talking to the young gents. It does not look well for respectable tradesmen's daughters. Miss E. fi— y, at Miss B— s, Long Ditton, not to think all Ditton are in love with her; and not to be seen in the green lanes with the carpenter at nine o'clock at night. We think she would be better at home doing her work. Mr. J. H— y, the bullying stage- coachman of Dorking, not to disgust his female passengers with his obscene and filthy lang- guage. Does lie remember the affair at Leatherhead? We allude to the horsewhipping. Mr. W. H— s, tailor, at Teddington, to look after his business, and not to strut about so much, thinking all the girls are in love with him. Miss S— y, who keeps the china- shop in High street, Dorking, not to go out so often with Mr. B— n in his gig. Why don't you get married ? W. G— ff, the under- clerk in the County Court, Wandsworth, not to swell so much up and down the town with a paper pro- truding from his pockets; and not to think so much of himself, because he has got a watch. He knows his father was a pig- killer. , J. D— t, of High street, Croydon, to ring some other bell ( e) ar three o'clock A. M. Surely Miss C— s can spare him ataiiqarliet hour than that. 2 PAUL PRY ; THE REFORMER OF THE AGE. Mr. M— n, the collector, of Farnham, not to flirt so much with tho girls in the town, but to think more of the pretty one in London. Mr. H. T— d, at an hotel in Farnham, t6 behave better to his housekeeper. The Misses M— y, of Richmond, not to laugh at certain young men in church of a Sunday evening. They are known, and arc bad ones. The cook at Colne Lodge, Twickenham, not to be seen out so very late at night with a parcel of illiterate boys. R. M— n, of Hampton, not to swagger with his gilt watch, but pay attention to the poor girl and child in the workhouse. L— r, the cobbler, on the common at Twickenham, not to be so filthy in his talk before company. M. li—, at the corn- dealer's, High street, Mortlake, not to let Mrs. B. go over to Richmond so much of a Sunday to the coal salesman's, to talk about other people's business. The magpies of Chertsey to take especial care of the sceptre of the king of Ashford, his majesty having pledged his royal word to spiflicate the whole of that feathered tribe. It is calumniating to assert that royalty remained longer than two hours in the ditch. The propagators of such unmitigating slander must hold themselves in readiness for an elevation by a touch on the pos- terior with the royal toe. Who is privileged to question his majesty's pleasure when he selects a ditch in preference to a TUB for a royal bath? A leuujeu beau ret our. H. S—, of Orchard street, not to mind what people say of him but to go on in a straightforward way, and we make no doubt his whitewash is somewhat more distant than his enemies suppose. SOUTHAMPTON. Mrs. P— s ( late Miss L— r), not to be so proud of her mar- riage ; also not to show her ring so much. Mr. D. F. M'C— y, not to make astronomical calculations before an audience again. F. B— 11, not to think he looks Byronical, or give himself such airs. Old Y— g, the chartist, not to play the tyrant in private life, and to leave off thrashing his wife. SUSSEX. BRIGHTON.— T— s C— s, keeper of the Duke street Hotel ( or rather hell), not to exhibit stinking meat in his window. The following Duke street swells to attend to our subsequent warning:— Mr. R— r, bookbinder ; S— t, wineseller; and P— k, wine- cooper. The handsome lady not to pay any more money until she is married: Paul wants to know if a pound of Shoreham butter is likely to save her ? G. G— y, a stonemason's boy, to say as little as possible. Canting H— le, the basket- maker, at the corner of Mid- street, to keep his little wife's tongue still. BERKSHIRE. J. N—, of Bray, to give up his business to his sou H. N—, or to be more obliging to his customers. Miss J. S— s, of Bray, to stay at home and look after her father's house a little more. A certain female, nurse girl in Peascod street, Windsor, of the name of E— h N— 11, not to be seen down in Eton after that ninth part of a man so often. A certain young man named Pe— an, as a hawking poulteror of Dorney, to be more careful, and pick more feathers from his geese before bringing them to Windsor, or he might have another fly away. The young men of Windsor and Etou, not to allow themselves to ba entrapped into the formation of a boat club, when they know that the purpose it is got up for only benefits the projectors of the scheme— the proprietors of the house it is held at. PAUL intends to be present on a meeting- night, to partake of a trifle of " kidment." W— m B— d, at Taplow house, Berks, to get a home for his wife, and live with her, not to have her running to the garden- house quite so much. S— n S— r, of the New Inn, Windsor, ex- kitcheumaid of the Orkney Arms, not to treat her fellow- servants the same as she used to do at the last place. R. L— 1, alias Ividney Dick, the journeyman butcher of Thames street, Windsor, not to spend so much of his time at the looking glass, twisting those obstinate bristles. We think it won't gain the young lady's affections in Peascod street. , W. C— r, alias Beaky, of James street, Windsor, not to be seen out so often with the young lady from Slough, How about the girl in Park street ? PORTSMOUTH. K— p, the shipwright, not to open his mouth so wide, when at- tempting"^ solo part at King street chapel. Mr. 0— d, the tailor, of Queen street, to leave off swearing, and to pay his journeymen their wages. Mr. L— e, foreman of the shipwrights, not to be seen walking about with certain working shipwrights' wives. Mr. F— n, the barber of Queen street, to take a few lessons in shaving. A— y L— w, of St. George's square, to discontinue his visits to a certain lady at Southsea, and not to make so free with servants. Doctor G— m, of King street, to take home that portion of D— y D—' s family which belong to him. THEATRICALS. ADELPHI. " Going to the Derby," was revived on Monday evening at this pretty little theatre, which kept the house in a continual roar of laughter from the rising of the curtain to its fall. We arc no great admirers of buffoonery, nor of actors taking liberty with their audiences, therefore, cannot say much for Mr. Wright's powers as an actor; he is unquestionably the first buffoon on the boards. Mr. Munyard, as Sam, was uncommonly good, whilst Mr. Frank Matthews and Miss Chaplin added greatly to the amusement by their excellent impersonations. PLYMOUTH. Mr. J. W— n ( opposite the post- office), draper, not to be so infatuated with his cats, gin drinking, and snuff taking, but to attend more to his business. John, be warned in time, » r the old man may cut you off with a shilling. Mr. F— k S— e, of Union- street ( opposite the branch Bank of England), not to assume the puppy so much in the street, and to look less at the girls. DEVONPOET.— The penny shaver, in Cumberland street, not to be so fond of running over to the Horse and Groom so much, and getting intoxicated. The pretty Jewesses, residing in St. Aubyn street, to attend more to their brother's business, and discontinue flirting with the gentlemen so much. , MARYLEBONE. Romeo and Juliet has been produced here, for the purpose of in- troducing Miss Fanny Vining and Mrs. Mowatt in the characters of the two youthful lovers. We do not like women in men's characters; they have not sufficient physique for the effect necessary to be produced; but as far as the playing of Miss Fanny Vining went, we must speak in terms of praise. Many portions of play showed she possessed talent of no mean order, and well merited the applause bestowed by a crowded house. Mrs. Mowatt's Juliet was respectable, and that was all. Mr. Davenport evi- dently does not understand Shakspere. He has a certain stiffness about his acting, when playing the legitimate, which he cannot throw off. His Mercutio was anything but the Mercutio of Shakspere. The remaining characters were all respectably filled, and came in for a fair share of the applause bestowed. GLASGOW. A certain clerk, at Messrs. G. and J. B— s, tho agents, in Bu- chanan street, to keep his eyes open, as the steamers are now beginning to move for the season. C. D. D— d and Co., the auctioneers, to keep their faith with the public. What was the reason the sale announced in Argylo street, to take place on the 19th insfcsnt, did not come off? Messrs. R— d and Co., of liuchwtan street, not to boast so loudly of their London and Parisian stock of paper hangings. Why not employ the tradesmen of their own town ? . W# a= SADLER'S WELLS. Shakspere's play of Julius Csesar has been performing at this house with great success. Phelps's Brutus is good ; it stands out, as it were, from the canvass, and is a picture of no mean beauty. G. Bennett's Cassius is played as he plays everything, capitally. H. Marston's Marc Antony is rather too prosy— heavy— very ; whilst Miss Cooper and Miss Huddart shone with no small degree of brilliancy in their respective characters. The piece is magnificently placed upon the stage, reflecting the greatest credit upon the liberal management. BUCKS. The sub- iuspeetor of the Great Western Railway polioe, at Sljjugb, not to hide behind the ticket- rack when a certain butcher comes on the platform. Mr. F. D—, of Slough, not to be seen in the parlour of the Red Lion with the servant girl. BRISTOL. Mr. W— m S— n, mason, of Narrow Wine street, not to keep such late hours, but to stop at home with his industrious wife and family, and not to be seen drinking in a certain public- house in Host street with Long Fat Emma, and not to beat his wife through her. SUNDERLAND. W— m C— k, joiner, Hope street, to pay more attention to making tables than going after that girl in Northumberland street. T. C— n, not to comb his hair so straight on Sunday morn- ings. T— s M— e, butcher, alias the Seven foot Monster, to marry ] j— h It— d, of Nicholson street. Why does he go whistling about tho back door every night, disturbing all the peaceful neighbours? Tom, my boy, you must drop those bad habits. That light- haired piece of presumption, residing in the High street., Sunderland,' named T— s E— t, renovator of old hats, when figuring so large at a certain house in William street, not to offer tho poor unfortunate girl a single glass of ale and one shilling. The two Misses E— t, at the Gardeners' Tavern, not to use so much white powder, nor look after the young gents as they walk past the house on Sundays. If they want husbands, they had better advertise in PAUL. J— n B— 1, not to keep company with that notorious lady- killer aud low fellow, Bob A— n, the journeyman draper. It is a pity that the last- mentioned individual has no more sense than to be seen so often at the C— k— A— s, the friend and quaker, to refrain from visiting the public- house in the back street. Take care you are not read out of the meeting for playing cards. The toyman's apprentice, not to ride a.. liack through the streets on a Sunday. Paul would like to know who suffers, the livery- man, or the boy's father? DERBY. Mr. H— s, foreman aud cutter- out at Mr. L—' s establishment, Derby, to mend his ways, and not be seen so much with the girls of the town, and not to ill- use his wife. Remember, sir, it is unmanly to strike a woman. Reform your conduct, or we will give you such a poke with our umbrella, that shall last you all the days of your life. YORKSHIRE. SHEFFIELD.— Mr. W—, of the Royal Casino, Westbeer street, not to think so much of himself. Does he know anything of pretty Sarah ? Mr. F— li, comic singer at the above place, to be more constant to the girl he has left behind him. Messrs. L— y and Sons, of High Street, not to grind down their poor work- people, and then term their establishment the " people's mart." E. M— n, of Old Haymarket, not to humbug the people of Shef- field with his patent concentrated Turkey coffee. J. T— r, of East Parade, not to forget his old friend, and to buy in a good bargain. Mr. W. H. C— p and R. D— n, of Whitby, to be civil to peo- ple who come to the bank. Mr. S— c, the baker, of Whitby, to go to a more suitable place than the yard iikChurcli Street, with Miss N— n. Mr. F. B— s, the tailor, of Whitby, to take unto himself a wife, aud give up the housekeeper. PAUL WISHES TO KNOW Whether it is true that G— e E— t, the nobby baker of Wal- worth Common, pays half- a- crown a week for a love- match, the usual sum demanded in such cases? Paul hopes he has bjen more discreet. Whether J— s C— r, the retired butcher, of Thames street, Windsor, intends doing anything; or whether he expects his wife to keep him always in idleness? How J— n S— t, the ex- publican, at present domiciling at the Adam and Eve, Windsor, contrives to subsist; and whether his wife does anything for him? When J— n W— n, the nobby bootmaker, of Bridge street, Sun- derland, intends marrying the gvrl :-. t Ayre's Quay ? If the carrier, not many miles from Chislehurst church, Kent, has got a wife who will never ask him for money, and is never out of temper? Whether the little tailor, of Chislehurst, is not afraid the frost will nip him, being out so late of a night with a certain party ? If L— tt, of Ilford, alias Spooney, intends to stop with that conceited little fly . r."" y w. if' <•" his. now he has come back; or whether he intends learingller for iho old man to support? How about the army, old fellow, eh ? Why W— m C— r, alias Billy Telltruth, keeps scandalising Mr. W— s, of the G. S. N. C. yard, Deptford, by saying in public houses that he could not do without his valuable assistance? Why Mr. A. S— n, of Busliey, Hertfordshire, is so backward in visiting the farmer of Little Bushey— and why he makes the young lady named A. F— r, blush so often when she frequents the but- cher's with her butter ? Let him beware for the future. Why does Mr. C— ry, the Nottingham packer, of Church street, Mitcliam, walk about with Miss B— yce, of Church street ? He had much better attend to his work, for it looks very disgusting, especially in the day. If J— k G— e, the coachman, could not find something better to do than to tell oldBeefy, who keeps the Bell, how much ale and gin other servants drink and the late hours they go home ? If the frog looked after his own business it would be better. If the gent who left his glove at the Old Hare's Nest, Ley ton- tone, some time since, means to call again ? He can be accommo- dated as before. If D— k P— e, the corn chandler, of Leytonstone, booked the pint of ale he gave tho groom at the George ? He made talk enough about it to the women at the house. Why Benjamin B. ( alias Brow Ben) of Richard street, near Step- ney church, Limehouse, still persists in hunting a certain respectable youug lady wherever she goes, like a puppy at the heels of its mistress? Oh, Ben, your pride may be great, but if your vanity were not greater you would see that you are the laughing stock of all. It don't look well laying in bed while the one shirt is being washed, neither do light kid_ gloves match a dirty face, and iu April too. Oh, Benjy, Bonjy, the wages of a lawyer's clerk won't stand it, no more will Paul. He knows the amount, so take care, his umbrella is a strong one yet. How T. F— d, the cats'- meat boy, at Mr. S— s, cats' meat shop, Commercial road east, gets such paltry fine things to wear? The reason why Mr. W— s, Junior, of 3, C— t place, Dalston, is seen larking so near B—' s, the cap makers, of Rahere street, Gos- well road— and why he smokes so many penny pickwicks? Why Mr. M— r, the little boot and shoe maker, of Grundy street, Poplar new Town, tells so tnanv lies and deceives his customers so often? Why J. W— s, of the Union road, Rotherhithe, should call him- self the importer of tea?' If he is, it must be iu a very small way. Why W. J— n, of the Lower Deptford road, Rotherhithe, should romp so much with the nursery- maid at the St. Helena? Why F— k S— b, the youthful barber, and J— s K— r, the young stone- mason, of Eton, take their nightly strolls with Miss W— 11, and Miss C— n, of Eton square, and Miss C— tt, alias, Jenny Lind? Does the former forget lie is of delicate constitution ? Why Mr. G— t, the artificial flower maker, of Tysoe street, Clerkenwell, goes kissing the girls in the dark passage while his wife is slaving at work? Why the wife of the above- named worthy tosses her head so much at the poor girls? Whether T— s S— k, the bounceable baker, of Wliitmore road, Hoxton, gets drunk in the week, and goes to the Pavement Chapel, New North road, on Sunday? And whether he goes there to look after the young woman in the same pew? We saw you, old boy, following her home one Sunday morning. Why Mr. S— s, of Yardley street, Wilmington square, is seen running after the girls so much of a- night, when he has got a good little wife at home? Why the servant, S— h 11— s, at the artificial flower maker's, Myddleton street, Clerkenwcll, will have so many half- quarterns of gin put down the area ? JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT COME AGAIN. It would appear that the lemembrance of this once notorious species of humbug is never to be forgotten. There is existing at the present hour, a faint glimmer of that false light which was wont to allure the ignorant and infatuated headlong to des- truction. A society of maniacs assemble in a little back room at No. 15, Cross street, Walworth Road, every Sunday, both morning and evening, for the openly avowed purpose of hear- ing read the prophecies of that well- remembered female quack. PACTL witnessed, on Sunday last, one of the groatest pieces of mummery that has ever been inflioted on him. He knows not what inspiration is capable of effecting; but, in the course of common events, he ventures to make a calculation that the ' present prophetess is too old for Shiloh- bearing. Disguised as the petticoat juggler was in the dress worn by the high priest in Pizarro, one might safely conclude her summers to number at least three score— hence PAUL concludes the kid would prove an abortion. One of the principal functionaries of the chapel is | an artful dodger; for just at the time the mountebank prophetess and her half- dozen addle- pated disciples were about giving some- thing like a prayer, he very quietly laid down the enormous sword with which he flourishes about the room, and taking a fork \ from the mantle- piece, raised the lid of a saucepan, pulling out a potatoe which appeared scarcely done to his liking— then deposit- ing it once more safely in the boiling water, he resumed his duty, by joining heartily in the religious mockery. The effect of this i was too much for PAUL'S risible faculties, and he was compelled to evaporate; not however before he had promised to pay the prophetess Vaughan and her deluded followers another visit, for the purpose of further exposing this outrageous specimen of foolery and humbug. MITCHAM. THE WEATHERCOCK BEADLE.— In every parish there is a most important personage, ' yclept, a Jack in office, aud Mitcham can boast of having a splendid one ! a noble grand, positively, selected from amongst the stars which illuminate the lodge of Odd Fellows, and when arrayed in his official costume, what with the glare of the scarlet, and the glitter of the gold, he really appears to be a most important and dazzling fellow indeed! Tbe grandfather of this noble grand sported the parish livery for years ; but he, for a beadle, was most humble in his views and pretensions; confining himself to the churcfi porch, never heading funeral pro- cession, or dancing attendance on marriages, to obtain a good din- ner, hat- bands, gloves, or bridal favours. But the descendant of this unassuming man, is too wide awake to let any opportunity slip, by which, in the exercise of his office, he has the slightest chance of feathering his nest! This official gem was brought up a Dissenter— a Wesleyan, but, from peculiar causes, was chosen beadle of the parish. Like Esau, who sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, so did our official hero receive, as the price of his apostacy, the beadlo- ship of the parish ! Ever since his exaltation, his political ideas, which formerly were ultra Radical, have undergone a wonderful change. Conservatism now is the burthen of his song; Church and State, with all its abuses, which he formerly denounced, is now lauded to the skies as the pyramid of human exeellcnce by this official time- server and political renegade! His eating and drink- ing qualities are decidedly epicurean! Although noisy in his cups he is not at all fightable ; and never gets floored, unless it is by the " jolly god." Like all Jacks- in office he likes to show his authority; aud he often displays his staff of office in order to convince the credulous that he is in very deed " the beadle of the parish.'' Exalted thus; on the pinnacle of local greatness we will leave the noble grand to his own sweet musing, convinced that no yokel will refuse to pay homage to one whose blushing honours are so thick upon him. CORRESPONDENCE. ANOTHER DOUBLE NUMBER!!! In consequence of the immense success of our Journal ( winch has now been established Six Months), and on account of the overwhelming quantity of letters received, we hereby give Notice, that No. 26 of PAUL PRY will be a DOUBLE NUMBER, without any additional charge. JUSTICE ( Portsea).— We thank you, and shall be happy to hear from you as often as convenient. ALFRED ( Whitby).— We shall be glad to reckon you among our list of cor- respondents. A MINUTE OBSERVER ( Plymouth).— We shall be most happy. A BOOKSELLER ( Mitcham).— Every attention has been paid to your loca- lity, and letters inserted within one week after coming to hand. MILES WIDE AWAKE ( Chelsea).— Send us your notices, and in our double number, next week, we make no doubt that we shall find room for them. R. M. ( Westminster).— Every letter received by us is inserted in regular rotation. If you have not yet seen your notices, you may depend upon U6 not lssing sight of them. N. B. ( Maidstone.)— We can only say that our publication is published every Wednesday morning, at seven o'clock, and if there is a possibility of getting them earlier into Maidstone than the following morning, the fault lays with the London agent of your local bookseller, and not with us. A WELL- WISHER.— We thank you for your kind letter, and shall pay at- tention to its contents. The'whole of the number* are in print, and can be had to order. JOHNNY GILPIN ( Clerkenwell).— Your lines are but middling— scarcely point enough about them. We will, however, curtail, and make some emendations, and insert them. The subject is worthy of a corner in our columns. Printed and published for tho proprietors by G. EDWARDS, at tbe office, 12, R^ ell court, Brydges street, Strand, where nil communications to the Editor are to be addressed.
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