l Q ) ( The Second Quarterly Part will be issued at tlie publication of No. 26. Parti, now) 13 JTn T T o TT l. I r\ 1( T T RR T , T IT1 .. o. JLtS. j [ leady. Each Part to contain 13 Nos. in a Wrapper, for Is. Post free, Is. 64. J ' DLil O tl ili JJ VV hi Hi tV JL I . [ RRICE ONE " ENNY INTREPID CONDUCT OF MRS. SPINKS. MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OK, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. " Are you acquainted with his writing?" inquired Mrs. Spinks. " Well, well; even as if it were my own— know you it ?" " I do, for it was but this very evening I received from him ( if he be the same) a letter, containing proposals from his master." Mrs. SpinkB's voice faltered, and she betrayed considerable agita- tion in her manner, as she uttered these last words. This was not, however, observed by Gascoigne, who interrupted her by exclaiming, " Impossible, Margaret, impossible; his master, as you term him, must be my uncle, Jonathan Babington, trustee to the Rod- well estate ; and yet," he continued, after apparent reflection, " yet, Margaret, you may be correct; my uncle, as you are already aware, is seeking to serve you, and probably might communicate with you, through hiB secretary, which office Vaiden often fills: show me the letter, and that will at once dispel all doubt." " I have it riot now," was the answer, in a Jpw tone. " Not got it now, and yet so recently sent to you!— ah, I under- stand you, you have given it to jour husband?" " No." " Lost it ?" " No." " What mean you?'' said Gascoigne, astonished at the tone in which she gave her answers; " methinks it is now my turn to inquire if you are not deceiving me ; if you have received a letter from Vardeu, where is it ?" " I have destroyed it," answered Mrs. Spinks. " Destroyed it?" exclaimed Gascoigne, " what, then, was thepur- port of its contents." Mrs. Spinks made no answer, but turned away her head, and appeared as if desirous of leaving the apartment; Gascoigne, however, mistook her purpose, for advancing towards her, he said, " Foolish woman, you have, then, been endeavouring to deceive me; you have not destroyed the letter, and would now fetch it— no matter for that— tell me its contents, that will suffice.'' " TJJie letter has shared the sume fate us those," she answered, pointing to the ashes of the papers in the stove; " it contained proposals of a dishonourable character." " Where was it left?" " At the house where you have traced me from. " The brothel— Shadrach's?" Mrs. Spinks did not answer, and Gascoigne continued, " Here must be tome mistake: saw you the man Varden?" " I saw his master." " My uncle?" " No," answered Mrs. Spinks firmly, " the man I saw was not your uncle, but a being of odious form, with a countenance of such fearful hidcousness, that even now tho thought ofiit causes me to shudder ; so execrably frightful is his gaze, that the most abandoned of the unfortunates who visit that place could not be induced ev£ n to look at him." " And you still visit Shadrach's?'' said Gascoigne, apparently not hearing her last words; " you, who to- night, urged, as a plea for refusing my request, that you were married; still the visitor of a common brothel!'' Mrs. Spinks gazed earnestly upon the countenance of her questioner for a moment, but did not reply ; her look, however, was returned with one of equal scrutiny on the part of Gas- coigue, who observed, with surprise, the sudden change in ber manner. " This," he muttered, " is beyond even my comprehension. It is upwards of twelve years," he said, speaking aloud, " since we first met at that house. Does your liusband know of these visits?" " He does not," was the reply. " What if he were acquainted with them?" " He would not believe the informer." " That depends upon the source from whence the information might proceed." " Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Spinks, " yourself for instance." " Not so, for I could gain nothing by such a statement; still, I cauot but wonder to find you, a. married woman and the mother of a family of children, still visiting such a place." " Indeed," said Mrs. Spinks, with something of a sneer in her manner. " Nay, Margaret," he continued," I say not this to upbraid you; you are the best judge of your actions. Still, I repeat, your con- duct this night is singularly contrary." " Just so," observed Mrs. Spinks; " because I had sufficient power to resist your advances, and refused to dishonour even my husband's bed. Oh!" she added, her eyes flashing with resent- ment, " you do well, Mr. Gascoigne, to play the part of moralist. I am already sufficiently fallen, I needed not this insult to remind me of it." " You mistake," continued Gascoigne, evidently moved by the manner of bis companion; " I meant not to insult you. But we were speaking of Varden. I will not endeavour to ascertain the cause why you should still visit Shadrach's, but still am anxious to know if the Varden who has communicated with you is my uncle's secretary." " I know not why you should manifest so much interest in my affairs," said Mrs. Spinks, coldly. " Methinks it were better rather, under the present circumstances, if you were to give a little more attention to your own." " Singular woman," replied Gascoigne, turning over the papers, and searching for one amongst them. " Have I not already told you how deeply you were interested in the inquiry now pending relative to the Rodwell Hall estate?" " Yoa have told ine nothing," said Mrs, Spiuks, " except a 2 T H E T O W N, rambling tale, to remove from mo the impression of your connec- tion with this robbery/' It was evident, from. this remark, that Mrs. Spitiks doubted the truth of her companion's statement, and believed that his conversation relative to his uncle, had only been framed for tlie purpose of amusing, or rather diverting her from the subject of the robbery. She therefore felt indignant at having been, as she supposed, betrayed into a manifestation of feeling upon the sub- ject, and induced to give utterance to thoughts which she had hitherto confined within herself. The recollections of her girlish days were of a singularly evanescent character, for, although some of her statements had excited the surprise of Gaseoigne, she knew but very little of her family history. The early age at which she had lost ller only parent, in a great measure accounted for this latter circumstance; with this bereavement, however, there was a vivid recollection of her last moments, and a strong, al- though to her incomprehensible, remembrance of certain expres- sions made use of by her parent a few moments prior to her dis- solution These words had been strongly impressed upon the tablet of her memory; impressed with a firmness that time or trouble bad not, in the slightest degree, effaced. They had sup- ported her ( as will be shown to the reader in the course of this tale) through a life of fearful vicissitude and temptation ; and al- though, strange to say, she had never commmunicated her thoughts, or even the subject which had given birth to them, to her husband, they for years had been her day- dream, and upon them she had constructed airy castles, in the foremost of which imaginings appeared a title for herself, with wealth and a vast estate for those connected with her. It was in a moment of fear- ful anxiety, viz., that which had preceded her meeting with . Gas- coigne, as narrated in Chapter V., that the words again returned to her, " Remember, the Rodwell property is yours.'" and the reader can, consequently, understand the indignation of our he- roine, in believing that she had been deceived by Gascoigne, and induced by his declarations to reveal, to a certain extent, her thoughts upon this her favorite topic. Nothing is more mortify- ing to the pride of a woman, than to have her cherished opinions gathered from her, under the guise of friendship, and then to dis- cover she has been deceived and herself the object of ridicule. Somewhat akin to this was the feeling of Mrs. Spinks; she believed that at least Gascoigne was but trifling with her. Gascoigne felt the predicament in which he was now placed; felt how essential it was he should remove such an impression ; for that Mrs. Spinks disbelieved the whole of his statement, the contemptuous change in her manner could leave on his mind but little doubt. " Know you this letter?" said Gascoigne, suddenly taking one from a mass of papers, and holding it to the light before Mrs. Spinks. " I do not," was the calm reply. " And yet you tell me that you are acquainted with the writing of Robert Varden." " This writing certainly resembles Varden's." " It is Varden's." " Well, and what is that tome?" " I understand," exclaimed Gascoigne with vehemence, " you disbelieve me— is it not so ? speak, Margaret, that I may destroy at once all doubt, and prove the truth of all I utter beyond the possibility of mistake— prove that I am here but to serve you." Mrs. Spinks moved towards the door as if for the purpose of leaving. " By heavens," he continued, " I will convince you, no matter at what risk. Would you believe your parents if they were living?" " My parents?" answered Mrs. Spinks, and then, after a pause of a moment, she added, contemptuously, " What new trick is this ? my father I never knew, and my mother, alas! has now been dead many, many years." " Read that," replied Gascoigne, taking from the box a note, to the end of which was fastened, by a piece of faded ribbon, a lilain gold ring. " Great God!'' shrieked Mrs. Spinks, falling upon the sofa, " it was my mother's wedding ring." she had been deprived of her, caused her to forget it. " I remember nowshe exclaimed suddenly, " it was some- where in Germany ; where is the document that accompanied that note, it was her certificate." Gascoigiie smiled incredulously, and added, " It will be hard to make the lawyers believe that, though I must admit I have heard some such story before; and Babington has declared they were married, and the certificate was either lost or stolen from out of this note." The latter portion of these observations were made in a low tone, they, however, caught the ear of Mrs. Spinks. " There has been some fearful viilany ;" she replied, looking earnestly at Gascoigne, " you too, are not I fear altogether inno- cent ; to- morrow, however, will show." " Toil surlily will not betray me, Margaret," he exclaimed " for there are some other papers no ways related to your business which I Inust destroy." " Do so," she answered. " I must fetch them from yotir room." " Again enter my bed- room i" " Nay, this is mere squeamishness," said Gascoigne, " I am not the first, man who has entered your beil- room, or the only man with whom you have slept, as Shadraeh's house can testify." " I am not here to answer to you for my conduct," replied Mrs. Spinks, proudly, " but to warn you of your danger ; that done, I now may leave you— so, good- night,".... " Your warning were of but little value to me, if you leave me thus," he exclaimed, at the same time stopping her ; " in the pocket of the cloak in the bed- room, there are some papers, sealed with green wax, which I must obtain j those destro} ted, J majr then, defy the search of the police." " Follow me, then," she said, coldly, " first, however, take off your shoes, lest the sound arouse my children; I will do the same." In silence, Gascoigne a second time entered the bed- room of Mrs. Spinks, who, without uttering a sentence, handed to him the cloak. His observations had deeply wounded her, and he, in re- turn felt disgusted with her conduct; his pride was hurt at, as he supposed, iter assumption of virtue. Taking from her the cloak, he was about descending the staircase, when ho heard the street door open, and the sound of several voices in tho passage, in which that of a woman was most conspicuous. " Itis Mr. Spink;! and Miss Bunker returned with the police,'' said Mrs. Spinks, in a deliberate tone of voice, " you must now shift for yourself, my chamber you never again enter," the door was immediately closed in his face, and fastened from the inside. " Do you wait here, Jackson," said a voice from below stairs, " and let no one leave the house; me and this young woman will search the up- stair. s rooms." " All right, Serjeant," was the answer. Gascoigne heard the footsteps of the policemen ascending the staircase; " I will yet escapc them," he exclaimed; " at least, I cannot be more unfortunate than Miss Bunker's admirer,' TOWN OUT OF TOWN. Br THE SNOBS OF BRUMMAGEM. A MEMBER OP THE ANTI- SHOE SOCJETT. " I hate Jackanapes ; above all, Keep Snobs from my sight." It is very rare we venture out on Sundays, on account of the streets, roads, lanes, highways, hovels and ditches, being infested with a set of drapers, grocers, tailors, scavengers, ami railway clerks, also factory boys and girls, scented with lavender water to drown the engine oil, with every other description of Snobs therefore, we generally confine ourselves on the Sabbath to avoid this set of would- be or ape- gents; but h iving had a. fedious day's journey from Scotland the Saturday previous, we started out. for an airing; when our attention was first attracted by that out- rageous swell, wrapp'd in one of Ilyam's Taglioni's, the shop- walker at Warwick house and godson to old Jemmy the cockman, bouncing along New- street. Then, proceeding down Worcester- street we twigged the Chambers of Cheshire's in a Druggist's shop, waiting for a pennyworth of pummiee- stone. Further on we were turn'd off the path by old puff- and- blow- knock-' em- down Dickey of the same profession as the renown'd George Robins, occupying . the whole of the flaggings ; we'll say no more about him, but will turn him over to the Commissioners. We must also djrect their attention to the no- pork- eaters, corner of Pershore- street, to keep ' thfiir pathway clear of the pugs that generally cause the obstruc- tion there. We were much alarmed and nearly run over in Bris- tol- street by flash, the Cockayne butcher, Digbeth, who was spank- ing along with his ridgel, shewing his old woman off, whose pink red aud blue ribbons were floating in . the air triumphantly o'er the bare ribs of his knacker, and their matrimonial fruit trotting alongside on a pony fahose tail was cocking under the influence of something warm; therefore you may conclude, it was a spicy turn out. To recover this affright we stepp'd for a glass of short in at the Comminate Cow, the newly elected guardian; we found him in the parlour, the table spread with documents of motions he intended to bring forward at the next work- house meeting. Says he, " I'll put the stunners on ' em." He then stood erect, put his hands in his waistcoat armholes, and said, " I shall stand in this style, Sir Robert Peel fashion, to deliver my speech ; I shall nave some, brandy first, then I shall be ready to face the devil; Ml show ' em the way to Westminster !" Ohi the pomp and vanity of this world!! Billy! you are not right; you would be more in your element driving into some muckhole. On leaving here, we were again intimidated by four youths from George Naden's, swinging along in a dog cart, first on otte side then on the other, like a « l » g : floundered ship ; surely there ought to be a life protection force : out on Sundays, to protect peopte agiiinst such novices. Then ^^ e^ rrf't^ t^ ft^^ f Mr^' inks he j ^ hoot Broad- street, doing the big with Miss pnterei? the. emntv chamber of the religious ladv. The next instant! D. u , otl, y ^" e'dtat, followed on horseback, by the sporting swell entered the empty lady. instant there was a loud knocking Utthe door of Mrs. Spinks. ere iouu Kuoctung auue uoor 01 mrs. opiuiis. i , w " Open the door, mjr dear," said a voice, " it's me! Lorimer," ; sno ™ aCreet> wmi of Sumner- lane, who was greeted by fi, group of girls from Per- No answer. " Open the door, you abandoned married wothatl, wot takes away the character of seriously- inclined females," said Miss Bunker. No reply, " Open the door, ma'am, or we shall burst it open," exclaimed the poliSs- Sferjeant. The tlifeatwas put in force. " Ybh are alone, ma'am," said the officer, as Mrs. Spinks, ifi her chemise advanced to meet him. " Of course, I am," she answered; " who should dare be ih my bed- room in the absence of my husband." Tlic calm aiici collected style of the speaker paralyzed both t e policeman, Mr. Spihks, aud even Miss Bunker; their astdhislihicnt, however, in an instant gave place to a cry of unutterable horror at perceiyitigft iuati attempt to climb tlie roof of a house opposite Mrs. Spinks, by a strong effort, recovered herself, and pro-; the window of Miss Bunker, slip on to the parapet, struggle ceeded to read the note. It was m a female s hand, the writing ! for a moihent, afid then fall over towards the street, followed by much faded, and ran as follows " Friday Evening, May 29th, 1820. " DEAR F" ATHER, " Mother ! your traduced character is avenged.'' ( To be continued). THE TOWN POST- BAG. No. IV. j the crashing sound of a heavy body tailing upbii the p& vement beneath. ., T • ,. j. It was Edward G- iscoigne; lie had ( alien A haight of sixty 1 have but a few hours to lite; forgive your broken- hearted, foet. A smile passed over tho countenance of Bits. Spinks, as she repentant, dying child, and protect her offV'" T. . Soon, so > n exclaimed * will their mother be in the cold tiild silent toi.. l>, '" H when the ' wild- flowers spring- over the grave of one who low I not wisely but too well, think sometimes of her whom in happier days you loved to call your daughter. MARGARET. " P. S. Be careful of the enclosed. " To Sir Anthony Rodwell, Rodwell Hall, Kersall Moor^ Manchester." " My suspicions were then indeed correct," said Mrs. Spinks ; " this letter is the last my poor mother ever wrote. The Rodwell property is indeed mine." Gascoigne closely observed the features of our heroine as she read the note. He marked her astonishment, and attentively watched every change in her countenance. He was, however, anything but prepared for the commanding tone in which, after the last o'bsferva- tion, she continued— " And pray, Sir, by what right do you hold possession of this letter and those papers, the property of my late grandfather ? and why have I been kept in ignorance of their existence fiir nearly five- and- twenty years 1 This must be seen to, and fully explained." " Right," replied Gaseoigne, recovering himself ; " this must be fully explained, and that is why I am here, why I have ran so much peril— there is a great deal, a very great to be explained, in which even you must assist." " This is mere subterfuge," answered Mrs. Spinks. " Why should you hold possession of my mother's wedding ring?" " Of her what ?" inquired Gascoigne, with a singular bitterness in his tone. " Of that ring— my mother's. I'll swear to seeing her fasten it on that ribbon, and give it to Mrs. Saunders a few hours before she died." " Yes, yes, it may be her ring— but you called it by another name." There was a marked emphasis in the manner of Gascoigne as he uttered these words. " What mean you ?" inquired Mrs. Spinks; " I said my mother's Wedding ring." " True, you said so," answered Gascoigne ; " but can you prove it? I will not, however, pain you, dearest, with these hints, for know, that even if you ivere the only child, there is some difficulty about this matter." " My brother," said Mrs. Spinks, " you allude to. He can, I think, be found." " No matter for that," answered Gascoigne ; " even if he were not found you must be heiress to the estate if— if—" " If what?" " If your mother was ever married." " Villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Spinks, with considerable vehemence. ' Why do you dare to utter such a vile insinuation against the cha- racter of my mother'!" '' Not my insinuation, dearest, not mine," answered Gascoigne, rapidly; " it has hung over the memory of your mother for years, and I am here to remove it." " Infamous traducers !" answered Mrs. Spinks, tears rushing down her face. " I see it all now. Mother! your name shall be revenged ere to morrow's set of sun.' " You speak positively upon this subject," said Gascoigne, " and I am rejoiced to hear it— where were your parents married ?'' Mrs. Spinks paused for a moment; her answers had been dic- tated from a feeling of indignation at the implication upon her mother's character.; now, however, she reflected that she had never heard of her parent's marriage, or the early age at which A LADY- LIKE QUESTION. To THE EDITOR OP THE TOWN. SIR,— I am about to put a question or two to you of a delicate nature which I cannot well get answered thrtittgh any other medium. It is impossible for me to ask such things of any gentle- man iff my acquaintance. I happened a week ago to see some of your numbers in a shop Window, tad have since contrived to pro- cure the whole for iriy amusement; and it has occurred to me, that I might ask some things I want to know of you or your cor- respondents, and none— not even yourself— ever suspect who the inquisitive young lady is. You must know that my personal appearance is all I possess to secure my settlement in life— I mean my marriage ; and as mar- riage seems to me a very pleasant and desirable state, I am natur- ally anxious to make the most of such charms as I may have for the attainment " of this object. I cannot flatter myself that I am handsome, or that I should be generally called pretty ; I think, however, that most persons would call my face agreeable; and I have certainly a fine figure. What I have most to be proud of ( I am glad you cannot see my blushes as I write it), is a handsome pair of feet and legs. I am sure the gentlemen think they are handsome by the manner in which I have seen them look at me when getting in and out of a cab or omnibus, and especially from their following me, as they often have, through several streets when the. paveuient has been muddy, and 1 have been obliged to hold up my clothes. I am sure if I ever get a husband I shall owe it more to my. ancle, & C. 1& 0., to., than to my tace. • Now what I want to know as. this, - How do you gentlemen best like to see a pretty foot aud leg, aud what is the best way to set it off so as to strike your fancy ? I am almost ashamed to ask such questions, but no one will know who I am. First, I should like to be told whether a neat boot, or shoe and sandals, would be preferred ; secondly, whether a fine cotton stocking, or an open fancy one, or a plain silk one, is thought the prettiest.; and thirdly, whether gentlemen would rather see the ancle and cult' with nothing but the stocking, or with the frill of a neat trouser round. There are some other things I should like to know about your testes, and the proper way to gratify them, but I am really ashamed to ask them now. I am almost frightened to think of what I have already put on paper. I hope, however, you will let my inquiries appear, that after I have prevailed on my modesty to let me send them, it may not prove to be in vain. I am, Sir, Yours truly, ELIZA E •. Here's the pie- bald swell, just come to town, Riding on a pony, Stick a feather on his nut, And call hjm Tagliotii. Now we'd arrived at Kirby's, Bell and Malt Shovel; the gardens were beautiful, but the company riot corresponding; five calico Surveyors were measuring it gtetit, from the Scotch lions ', High- street, oue particularly fond of coining out with " oh, demmy, Bobby ;" this was a light hair'd orie with red whiskers, who they ; call serjeant of " Laing's regiipeiit Of ihttijs." They ventured in Id boat, when this demmy sweil bewail I'th afloat;' they then : fought to see which should row. " Oh dgiiimy Bobby" said if he didn't have a pull he wouldn't pajr his three- ha'pence, which finally was satisfactorily settled ; lie, did " pull" first on one side, then on the other, for sbme time life couldn't get through the strait; when lie did, he said, " I'll How row you o'er the ferry," and began to sing— " Blow breezes blow, The time flies fast, Our cash is he4f gone, Through being too fast." In bawlitig this, he made sttch a discordant row, that it created a nausea on Our sfetisiitibns, and we left tiifeai on the water. " To have a glass and mild cigar, And chat with inaiden in the bar; Hero we were delightfully entertained " By this fair Venus Who sat between us, And told us some very pretty tales," till the dark shades of night veil'd the jolly old sun, and we repaired back to our Iriends'ih Lower Temple- street. " Give me one gentle kiss," I cried; And Anne, to stay my fleeting breath, Scarce touching, to my lips applied Her own, and snatched me from the gates of death. " All ! why, with so short liv'd a boon, My fleeting soul to earth restore ? Why give and take it back so soon? Death from thy lips, dear maid, would please me more." CAN YOU LEND ME A TRIFLE. Often, very often have we heard, during our peregrinationsabout town, the qttery which forms the title of this article, and, fre- quently is it found to be a question as painful to the interrogator as to the interrogated. Punch once facetiously observed, if you wish to know the value of money try to borrow some. We will suppose some un- fortunate devil is anxious to test the truth of this aphorism, and goes to a friend to borrow some money. He enters his friend's shop and finds him quite in glee. " Ah, Bob, my boy, how are you, how is Missis, and all the young ones?" " Why, middling, I thank you. By- the- bye, could I have just five words with you ?" " Certainly, my dear fellow ; fifty, if you like." They enter the counting- house, and while the applicant is telling his miserable tale, tlie other lifts up his eyebrows, cleans liis nails with a black handled penknife, and jogs one leg of the rail of the stool, ejaculating, at long intervals, " Dear me,— you don't say so !" The applicant having delivered himself of his budget, and " screwed his courage" to the request of a few pounds for a very few days, he receives a slap on the shoulder, accompanied by these words:— " My dear Bob, you are the unluckiest dog I ever knew: why didn't you come yesterday ? D— n it, old fellow, f could have done it yesterday. Look " here, old boy, ( he then produces his bill- book), and look here, old boy," ( he then opens his cash- box, which is empty); and then, with an elevated voice exclaims," Was there ever such times ?" The applicant then suggests, that perhaps his friend could assist liim with something towards the amount. After which, the other turns out both his breeches' pockets, and exclaims, " Look here, old fellow, not a rl— d mag, so help me bob." He then takes the applicant by his coat- collar, and whispers myste- riously in bis ear, " I'll tell you what, old boy, I expect next week to have a distress in my house myself, and no gammon; and, be- tween you and mt, I believe that there's not a tradesman in this street better off than yourself." On finishing this sentence, a pretty girl leans over the handrail of the stairs, and says— " Missis and the salmon, sir, are waiting, sir." " I say, Bob, I'd ask you to dinner, but the old gentleman has come to see us to- day, you know who I mean; he sent us the sal- mon. Well, good- bye, old cock." A3 the applicant approaches the shop door, the other exclaims in a loud voice, as he ascends the stairs, " I'd have done it for you if I could, old fellow, you know that." The other says— " Yes," out loud, and " he be d— d," in a whisper. So much for friendship, and borrowing money. THE TOWN. 3 HOW THEY MANAGE LOVE MATTERS IN LONDON. TOWS TRIFLES. Swift calls an assignation a love appointment; such, perhaps, might have been the assignations of his ( lays, but now, we fear, they have been much altered. They have now become mere kill- time forthe empty- headed youth of the metropolis, and are as foolish and absurd as the consequences are evil und mis- chievous. It is true, there are many different sorts of appoint- ments, and they are made with as many different motives. The lady of town, who, from a life of listless nothingness acquires a desire for intrigues, chooses the Park as the scene of hi r petits amours— it is there she engages to meet her favourite, whilst her lorrt is, perhaps, engaged at the house on some weighty affairs of the state. Her carriage ordered, she repairs with eigerness to this market of flirtation, knowing that immediately she makes her appearance, her gallant will canter gracefully by the side ol her chariot, and amuse her by the chit- chat of the day. She leans forward to catch bis every word, and encouraging his ready addresses by her still readier smiles, paves the way for those dis- agreements which are continually infesting the families ef the great. When the affuir approaches to a denouement, or has be- come too marked to bear the insinuations of the world, a less pub- lic mode of proceeding is adopTbd. We have known Waterloo- house, Swan and Edgar's, and other large establishments to be resorted to tor appointments, from their having entrances com- municating with different streets. No doubt this is very conve- nient, for, vvhilo the intriguante enters one door to make her purchase, her admirer recollects he is short of gloves, and enters the other. A whisper, a look, a gentle pressure of the hand, serves to fan the flame. What follows, we should blush to tell, for there are houses of less character than we have mentioned, but with the same means of approach, who make it a part of their business to afford the wished- t'or convenience. In the middling ranks assignations are carried on to a much greater extent than in any other. ' There are some young gentlemen who think it vast fun to amuse themselves in this manner, and make it a boast among their friends of the nnml er they have on hand. We know some who carry memorandum- books to assist their memories in these matters, make engagements with every girl they meet, and fancy themselves Don Giovannis. Such appointments, from their number, are generally very harmless— they are, nevertheless, very foolish. The parties meet, walk about, and get tired of each other. After the first interview, these youths take every oppor- tunity of speaking to ladies they meet, and think, if they happen to be unaccompanied by a male friend, that they are fair game— even the most respectable are not exempt from their imprudence, and are frequently insulted by their trying it on, as it is called. A good kicking, or a word from a policeman, would effectually cure them ofthis propensity, for nothing but a convincing argu- ment will effect them. It is a practice only resorted to by a set of witless youths who have not sufficient to do within doors. We do not suppose their object to be anything further than as a passe- temps, for they are, generally, not men enough to make anything more of it. In listening to their adventures, they would have you believe a great deal, but we vety well know they are all vox et preterea nihil. By dint of a magnitude of assurance, and a full stock of flattery, which is a choice commodity employed in the attack, some young women have boen induccd to listen to these youths; the ice broken, and a few words exchanged, an appointment is agreed on, the time and place of which is forth- with transferred to the pocket- book, and-' such is their every- day procedure. We have frequently been amused on passing through the Quadrant, the Opera Colonnade, or Wellington- street, aud other quiet places in great demand among these people, to see their anxious fates glancing to the right and to the left, aud. indeed, to all the points of the compass, for the object of their visit; if they wait, they employ themselves diligently in adjusting their shirt- collars, arranging their wristbands, aud flirting with their side curls; there is an assignation step too, something like that of a sentry— a uniform pacing up and down, with an occa^ siorial stop to take observations. But appointments of this kind are seldom kept by the lady- promisers, and one would think that the frequent disappointments the se gentry meet with would teach- them better; for it is said, fools learn iu no other school but expe- rience. As we proceed lower iu the social scale, meeting by ap- pointment is also common. The giddy apprentice offors up his Sunday at the shrine of his beloved. He takes her on the water, or for a walk to Creinorne, or in tho evening to church. All this is first arranged by a previous understanding, and these assigna- tions are punctually kept, for they are mostly among acquaint- ances. Observe him, the apprentice we mean, on a fine Sunday waiting at the corner of a sti eet, with a ridged paletot and French hat, and to crown all, a clean face. Is not this a gratifying sight? We do not complain of this, for servant girls must have their young men; they are so hard worked at home, they require some one to work for them on a Sunday. When a man has a trouble- some partner o; « his arm, lie deliberately gets rid of her by en- gaging to- ineet her at some other time. This is understood by gay women, and attended to accordingly. There are many other kinds of assignations which we have not space here to mention. But, before we close, we would caution uur fair readers agaiust the silly habit existing among the young men of the present day- We very well know they can be after no good, and, even if 11O harm is meant, young ladies had much better stay at home than join them in their folly. As for the young men, they will not find us asleep when we are strolling about; and they may some day find themselves shown- up in right earnest, for a nod is as good as a wink, & c.— they know the rest. FEMALE DRESS. I would not have the girl I love, In sparkling gems array'd; I would not have her proudly move In silks or stiff brocade. No diamonds should adorn her head, Or glitter round her neck, Nor vile cosmetics idly spread Their poison o'er her cheek. The modest look, the artless air, Best, heighten every grace, And the pure blush that mantles there Sheds lustre o'er her face. The garish gem, the stiffen'd dress, But spoil the easy mien ; And art, while it makes each beauty less, Hides graces better seen. A MAIDEN'S SIMPLICITY.— A curious circumstance happened in the course of last, summer, during the harvest, in the neigh bourhood of Newmarket. A young girl, who had scarce ever been an hundred yards from her home, was thought capable of' assisting to provide for the rest of the family. She accordingly went with herinother to glean during the late harvest. It be ing the first time of her going out any distance, her mother was the more particular iu her admonitions to lier; and amongst other advice prescribed, if she found herself tired and sleepy, not to lay down in the sun, but to adjourn to some cooling shade to enjoy a comfortable nap, and at the same time telling her, to prevent being annoyed by the flies or crows, who would be troublesome, to throw her apron over face. The girl, who was perfectly inno- cent of any harm that might happen otherwise, did as her mother told her; but not thinking her apron sufficient security against the enemy, threw all her clothes over her head. She had not lain many minutes in this manner when a brisk young farmer came that way, and seeing a healthy young woman in such an attitude, thought he would have a joke. The girl, it would seem, admired it very much, for she still kept her clothes over her head ; and thinking it was the ciows, she cried out, " Ah! you may peck away there as long as you please, but yon can't get at my eyes." Passing through Wych- street the other day, we were induced to enter one of the many little tobacconists with which that street is studded. The place, as usual, was filled with young men, and youug girls of un- easy virtue. " You don't seem to do much business here," said a man to one of the girls, " I should think you did'nt sell a pound of returns in three months." " That's not our trade," answered the girl," our dependence is upon shag." Dress is a duty we owe to others as well as to ourselves. No man has a right to wound the feelings of his friends by accosting them in public, or visiting them in private, in garments bespeak- ing either poverty or carelessness. Let no man, who has got his way to make in the world, think that he is above appearances. The rich man only cin afford to look poor. But if you wish the world to honour you, and also t » be glad to see you, always lteep up a good exterior. To the ugly it is necessary, to the handsome an essential grace. " Why is a lady's boot like a Bible?"—" Because it reminds you of a better place above." Know, then, thyself, presume no more to scan, A woman's study still should be a man. Placed on a sofa by her darling mate Oh ! what, in luxury, can be more great ? Let stoics prate with all their useless pride, The maxims ne'er will be the fair one's guide ; Love, real love, must be by acts expressed Which ne'er entered in a sceptic's breast, One hangs in doubt of kissing's real bliss ; Thinks what is wrong, and thinking, thinks amiss. Each man and woman kissing must prefer, Orif they reason, reason but to err; Alike their ignorance, and their reason such, Since all love Jessing, whether less or much ; Though sometimes woman is to passion used, Yet kissing still is not to be abused. WHAT NEXT ?— A correspondent tells us that it is a rule on the Midland Counties Railway not to give change at the counter to third- class passengers, and perfectly correct. too— the gentlemen caunot be troubled with a parcel of poor wretches. A PROCURESS'S ADVICE.— It was Mother Allison, the pro- curess, whose life appeared in No. 3 of the TOWN, that onse thus addressed one of her girls, " My terms, with all who visit me are one- third of whatever money or jewels you may have given you. You are now in your bloom ; use your charms as people do their interest at elections, make the most you can of them. But, above all things, never be fond of a man, it will be your ruin ; avoid clever or learned fellows, they are seldom any good to such as you, for they've r. o money. Suffer only the wealthy to approach you. Talent, bearing, and good looks, in a man, are thought a good deal of by some women ; but, my dear, they'll never put a pound in your pocket or a new smock on your back. A certain eminent theatrical lady, and manageress, who, although she had been married now several years, has never had children, whilst fulfilling an engagement in Limerick took a stroll in the outskirts of the town with her husband. Observing four very handsome children playing at a cottage door, the lady commented upon their beauty to her husband, and seeing their mother observed to her that she could'nt think how it was that the poor people got such fine children. " Oh, plaize ye, ma'am," said the mother, " its all owing to the pratees." The actress, for several weeks, tried the potatoe diet, but finding it had no effect, she, upon her next visit to Limerick, called upon the woman and said she had no sign of a child yet. " Surely, ma'am," was the answer, " you did'nt expect to get children with potatoes only ; you should have had my Pat to cook'ein for you, for it depends greatly that you have your water properly strained off." Justice is represented with scales, but she never yet had a pair big enough for royal transactions; she may keep her chandler's shop in the Old Bailey, and serve out sometimes cruel hard pen'- norths to the poor, but she has'nt weights heavy enough for Kings; perhaps its their being anointed causes them to slip through the bandaged lady's fingers. It is cheering, however, to reflect that tliouhg there is no place in 1 his world where the can put up her scales to weigh a city like Rome, for royal customers there is a destiny that weighs mountains. The late Rev. Mr. J. M , whilst preaching at Portsmouth, in the summer of 1847, spoke very strongly againgt the loose con- duct of the women of the place. Upon leaving the pulpit, some gentlemen congratulated him upon his discourse, when he ob served, " There is no difference in any of the women here, for they all dress so abominably thin, that upon close examination ( taking a bank- note from his pocket) like this, one can almost see the water- mark." From Anna's dear lip The nectar I sip, That nectar inspired would prove, If there wr re no charms To find iu her arms Beyond the sweet kiss of love. The kiss, it is true, For children may do, The passionless, aged, or grave; But I, in lull flower, Feel nature's great power, And food more substantial I crave, I look on a kiss As the portal of bliss To him unto whom it is given : A kiss that insures Your way through the doors Which lead to the Paphian heav'n. RATHER A STUNNING LARK.— Some young gentlemen, last week, supposed to be students, belonging to Lincoln's- Inn and the Temple, paid an early visit to the houses of a few of the lead- ing members of the legal profession, and left some singular notifi- cations of their visit. For instance, at No. 4, Grafton- street, Bond- street, the residence of Lord'Brougham, a small board announced that " Mangling was done with Baker's patent ;" at, Sir Frederick Pollock's the young swells posted a notice that the Chief Baron had " a back attic to let with the use of the latch key ;" at Sir Fitzroy Kelly's it was stated that " windows were cleaned, carpets beat, and dinners attended." The exterior of the house, 65, Park- street, the hoitse of Baron Parke, however, presented the most ludicrous appearance, the street- door beiug announced for sale, a decided bargain, and " the second- floor back to let with the occasional use of the kitchen and copper." We need hardly hint that these sin- gular announcements had been taken from the neighbourhood of St. Giles's ; and hence transposed in the above manner by these hopeful members of the profession. A woman, a regular clipper, and " no two ways about it," has recently made her appearance in Coventry- street and the west- end, togged out in " buy- a- broom" costume, aud created a spifli- cating sensation amongst the young swells. We thought this dodge was quite over, we, however, recollect some years since', a smart- looking girl who used to pick up a deal of money by going round in the heat of the day to the young lawyer's offices, with her brooms. On a hot summer's afternoon, " blue- eyed Jenny as she was called, did a tremendous business in the Temple, till a circumstance took place, which, if we have space, we may tell in our next, caused her to be refused admittance by the porters. Any man who allows his daughter to serve behind the bar of a gin- shop, commits a moral offence of no mean magnitude. The language spoken and the conduct exhibited in such sinks of ini- quity, are by far too gioss to describe, and a man can have but little regard for the morals or chastity of his daughter, who would seek to make money by a display of her charms behind the bur of a gin- shop. One of the greatest bores that can possibly be put upon a man that goes out to enjoy his pipe and his glass for a couple of hours, is the donkeyfied individuals who now infest the rooms of respec- table licensed victuallers, and inflict themselves upon the visitor by insisting upon singing. We are sorry to hear that these har- monic (?) animalculte are on the increase, even amongst our pro- vincial friends. Iu Loudon these fellows contrive to fasten them- selves on to a professional who is in the chair, they pay for his grog and cigars, and come out immense for him in the taking of tickets for his benefit, and, in return for this, the chairman thinks himself compelled to call upon his friend to " oblige." Thisfriend, who, of course, is one of the above singing abominations, and is very elaborately made up as regards toggery, then begins, and we have either " The amiable family," " I once knew a woman that, studied the stars," or something of the Coal- hole style, which he thinks very clever, but which from lacking humour of manner or tune, disgusts every person present. Sometimes he will make an attack upon. " The Jolly haymakers," or " The Standard Bearer;" which attempts are, if possible, worse than the former. Something, really, should be done by respectable licensed victuallers to stay these pests, for even supposing they spend more money than ordinary customers, they drive respectable people away. Mtlrray in Old- street, and Dudley's in the City road, have one or two snobs of this description. SONG OF THE GIN SPINNER. [ Dedicated to Tom Lee, the Irish comedian, of the Beckford, Old- street.] Send round the gin ! to- night, to- night, O'er hours like this let humour reign, Cold thoughts of mirth we'll put to flight, . Till morn awakes life's cares again. Spirit of Juniper, arise, Shove water- drinkers in the hole, For they are sluggards, d— n their eyes, Who cannot join the flowing bowl. Send round the gin ! let music's sway, Be tuned alone to those who leave; Cold water to the numskull brain, That dares not drink old max till eve. Send round the gin! the world will seem, Without it but a world of woe ; Yet tinted by its sparkling beam, Each pale face wears a sunny glow. For oh! th s four out glass that stands Upon our counters, day by day, Is nothing in the drinker's hand, Till lighted by Geneva's rays. RAILWAY PEOPLE. THE MODEL GOODS PORTER. He stands six feet high, and has a wife and no end of children. He is a great favorite with the goods manager, who treats him as one of his familiars. He rarely goes home to his meals, but has them brought to him at the goods- shed, He is never happy but when at work, which is about sixteen hours out of the twenty- four. His clothes are course, and so is his language. His capacity is much too limited to properly understand what the meaning of the word " extension " is; and although he is ganger over a por- tion of the men, and keeps a check upon them, he never kept a cheque for 2,000/.! He could sooner draw a hand- barrow than an inference. He has a terrific loud voice, which he uses to such ad- vantage, that a deaf person might hear him talk ( on an emer- gency). He grumbles about the turntables being out of repair. He knows there will bo a mishap some day ( if it is not in the night). He lias spoke about it to " the powers that be," and consequently, put his spoke in the contractor's wheel. He com- plains bitterly that the signal man at the junction showed a white light instead of a red one through carelessness; and points out, in a very pointed manner, that the pointsman turned the wrong points out of spite. He invariably carries some fog- signals and a book of the company's rules in his pocket, and would have the bye- laws attached to his button- hole if practicable. He can couple a truck in no time, and uncouple one in two minutes less than that. He jumps up and down, in aud out, over and under, aud behind and before trucks with the most surprising dexterity, and has never met with any accidents, save being kuocked down by an old buffer on one occasion, and knocked up by a slight jamb on another. He looks to the waggons, and sees they are properly sheeted, that their couplings are secure, their draw- bars all right, and their axle- boxes well greased previous to mar- shalling the train. He reminds the breaksinan not to forget his road- notes, and to beware aud keep his head and tail ( lamps) up. He is an excellent outside man, and prevails upon the engine driver to shut the foreign " empties " oil to the main line; and further prevails upon him, in his blandest tones, to take them on to the terminus, as this clearance of the rolling- stock frees the station from demurrage, and makes room for fresh arrivals. He is a famous loader of cattle, and considers it quite a feature to force an extra bollock into a truck, after it has got the full com- pliment, and all done by the twist of the tail, and for which pretty feature ( query) the drovers reward him, as it suits their canvas bags and leather purses uncommonly well, they paying after the rate of so much per truck per mile. He is immense iu cramming Irish labourers for the agricultural districts in double sheep- pens, laying them on the floor, and piling them one above the other in the most facetious manner. ( This disgusting mode of transit is carried on daily.) When they are very busy in the out- ward department, he is anxious about getting particular goodsoff, and pays more attention to one truss of silk than thirty- six trusses of hay. He will not cotton to the hosiery being left be- hiud, and is bent upon the hoop- iron going forward without fail. On the inwards side he hurries off large quantities of " stuff'.' for the different markets; fresh fish to be re- freshed at Billinsgate ; meat ( perhaps for dinner) to Newgate; and fruit ( for parties who get their deserts), to Covent- garden. In the midst of all this bustle and confusion, he one day gives alengthened whistle, opens his safety- valve, and blows off his steam, for, fearful to relate, an engine has suddenly exploded near him, the boiler bursts, and, unfortunately, scalds the Model Goods Porter to death. PICKLES MIXED. THE BIRTH OF PROCRASTINATION.— The two elder sons of Time, were the fair To- rtay, and the dark To- morrow, and they both loved Virtue's noble daughter, the blue- eyeil Duty; each seeking her for his bride. But duty won by the energy of To- day, cared not for his younger brother, the sleepy To- morrow. So she married To- day, and Virtue, her loving mother, blessed their union. Then To- morrow, moved by envy, went sorrowing to his father Time, and the grey- beard, folding him in his shadowy arms, drew his ill- gifted hoy to his bosom, and thus consoled him. " Grieve not, my child, that the greater vigour of thy brother hath found more favour than thyself in the eyes of the grave maiden Duty. Grieve not, for I will give unto theu for thy partner, gay Folly, her whose laughing looks and merry mood hath won her countless followers, whose realm is all the world. And, as a dower, I decree that twice the third part of that which belongs to Duty and To- day, shall henceforth be set apart for Folly and To- morrow." But when even- handed Virtue heard the harsh resolve, indignant that what was rightly her children's should be transferred to others, she ordained that the first- born of Folly and To- morrow) jhould dispossess them of their marriage portion. And when the child was born they called it PROCRASTINATION. THE TO W N. SP U HJ On Saturday, June 16th, will appear, No. I. of the FENNY PUNC PUNCH THE YOUNGER, A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK, In presenting himself to the World, deems it necessary to state, that, in consequence of the protracted bodily and mental infirmi- ties of his father,— of that imbecility, alas 1 which old age but too frequently produces,— he is urged by filial love to relieve his adored parent from the heavy responsibilities of " the guardian- ship of the public weal," the duties of which, when in robust health, he so ably and effectually discharged. Like most men in dotage, the " poor, dear soul" reluctantly submits to superan- nuation ; but the serious complaints against the OLD BLOCK, his apparent and most lamentable decline, the Whole World's en- treaties to the CHIP to assume the reins of government, the promptings of conscience, and the noble ambition to be as useful to mankind as his reverend progenitor has been, are the motives which have induced the younger PUNCH to leave his loved seclu- sion, and to sacrifice his social and domestic comforts to the pub- lic good. PUNCH THE YOUNGER trusts that, from his own and the exertions of the well- known, highly- talented, and justly- celebrated writers and artists who have proffered their kind assist- ance, as well as from the . considerate regard he lias manifested for the pecuniary interest of his friends, his production will be crowned with success as great, and even greater, than that which attended the labours of his respected parent when in the prime and gloiy of his intellectual greatness. For convenience of parties in remote parts, the PENNY PUNCH will be 6ent per post, on receipt of two stamps or 2s. 2d. per quarter. CONTENTS OP No. 1:— The Last Words of Old Punch to Punch the Younger— with Illustration. Godfrey Page; a new novel. Dicky Gossip's Letter on the Clubs— Illustrated. The Knife- Cleaner's Lament— Illustrated. The Bishop of Oxford's Sermon on Fox- Hunting— Illustrated. The Old Crow's Nest; an original tale of the Backwoods of America; And a variety of racy and humorous jokes on all the topics of the day. W. Winn, 34, Holywell street, Strand, and all booksellers. j& oticfjs to domspntifiits. AMUSEHENT OF THE LONDONERS. Ou the skirts of this Leviathan of a city are scattered numerous semi- theatres, the joint product of Bacchus and the Muses, ( to adopt the whole style) where a great portion of the labouring population seek that occasional excitement so absolutely necessary to those of a lively temperament. On the north of London they seem to be more numerous. There being situated the Grecian Saloon, the Royal Albert Saloon, the Britannia, and others, that we know not of. In the south suburbs the Bower Saloon, and the Grand Harmonic Hall. Before recording any of the peculiarities of each place, a description of which we shall reserve till our next; the first thing that struck us was the crowded state of the places, demonstrating that these were really the theatres for the people, or if any distinction is to bo made for the populace, there was manifested genuine approbation or disapprobation, unshackled by any of the rules of Aristotle, or even ( supreme impertinence) of newspaper criticism; entertainment was what was sought, and a positive, and not a comparative, enjoyment. So far there was a healthy unconventional tone, and a proportionate amount of hilarity ; there were certainly black faces and black hands, every variety of costume, from the carman to the sailor, in certain por- tions of the buildings; and every kind of liquor, from porter to " heroic brandy ;" all manner of recognitions and a great inter- mixture of jokes and greetings. Still the humours of the stage was not unappreciated, and certain manly sentiments found their right echo in the motley assembly. Art was effecting its unseen operation as gently and as insidiously as the oozings of some mighty water on the dull and inert bank by which it is en- deavoured to be bounded. Our space is too scanty to develope our theory of its operation ; suffice it to say, that like other great natural agents, we believe it to be indirectly most operative. We have no hope of ( le'ectiug murders by its agency, and think guilty creatures sitting at a play are not in general to be shocked into confessions. But we believe in the gradual moulding of the tastes, the general enlargement of the mind, the slow refinement of the feelings, and above all, the awakening of the taste to some sense of the beautiful, though it be only by the agency of a tenth rate imitation of Taglioni orRubini; the heroic, too, has its re- presentative, degraded though it be by the bluster and swagger of a bad actor, and the witty and the humorous can be dis- covered even through tho contortions of a clown, or the senilities of a pantaloon; and above all, we would put in as a plea for the maintenance, aye, and the better maintenance of such places, the plain right of the people to have some hours of amusement— some release from the wearisomeness of this working- day world. No one asks a Lord why be goes to the opera, and whether he visits it with a moral and elevating purpose? then why should they the dustmen. We would have them, however, the indirect an l unconscious refiners of the people, and as such recommend them to the cspecial notice of the government. Foreign governments, for the especial purpose of political domination, encourage and super- intend them. No such purpose could or should obtain here; but the government, should take every opportunity to elevute and im- prove them; the time is past when government can decline to superintend social matters ; one great political result might be effected if a Prime Minister could be induced to visit these, viz., the Entire repeal of the Soap Tax. Cleanliness is the first step towards elegance, and if the government were to give another aid, inducing one of the stipulations for entrance, to be clcaulincss and neatness, at no matter how low a price of entrance, say even one penny, it would soon have a wonderful effect on a large portion of the population. And to show we do years, has created a furor amongst the reading public, unprece- | not speak hypothetical^, we sh: old think 10,000 people at least, J ' J ° visit these places every evening; the quality of the performance dented in the annals of cheap literature, and although reduced ; might gradually be improved, gradually we say, for the grand thing is to keep the amusing properties of the performances as attractive as ever, if of too high a cast they would be deserted. We know there are persons who look upon this mingling of the drama and the drink as very injurious, but we do not think the beer will ever drown the drama, but on the contrary, that the drama may impart a little hotter spirit to the heavy beverage. " No form of art but will impart some of its ideality to the most boorish spectators. The whole of the numbers of the TOWN may now be had in a handsome wrapper, price One Shilling, or sent to any part of the United Kingdom for eighteen postage stamps. For the con- venience of persons living in remote parts, the TOWN will be supplied by the quarter for 2s. 2d., paid in advance. The re- vival of this inimitable publication, after a cessation of seven Whi'st Punch - was singing " Rooti tuiitoo," did anything happen to him?— Ye9, the devil came to fiy awa-^ with him. Did the devil fly away with him ?— No. The devil he didn't 1 Why didn't he, then ?— Because Punch killed the devil. How did Punch kill the devil ?— He hit him several times in the back, till the vital spark had flown. What became of Punch after that?— He disappeared very mys- teriously; it is supposed, however, that be went below. What were thelast words of the tyrant Punch?— Good bye! What did the Frenchman say?— He said," Shallaballa." What does" Shallaballa" mean?— Don't you wish you may get it. Did the Frenchman give Pnnch a nickname?— Yes, he oalled him " Tuzzy- muzzy." What does " Tuzzy- muzzy " mean?— It means both short and tall. Pray what did he mean by " short and tall ?"— He was alluding to Punch's short legs and large body. Did that exasperate Punch?— Yes, he hit the Frenchman on the head with the baton, or stick, and killed him. Didn't the beadle of the parish in which Punch lived succeed in taking him up ?— Yes, he did. What were they going to do witfi Punch, after they had taken him up?— They made an attempt to hang him. You say, " made an attempt;" did they not do it effectually ?— No, Punch was very cunning, for wheu they brought him to the gallows, he pretended he couldn't put his head into the noose. NOTICE TO THE TRADE. Persons finding any difficulty in obtaining " THE TOWN," at the East end of London, can be supplied from CAFFYN, Oxford- street, Mile- end; COLE, Bedford- street, Commercial- road, East, and REYNOLDS, 25, Church- road, St. George's, East, where a good stock of back numbers are always kept on hand. S in its price ( one penny), it will be found still to contain tho same amount of original matter, wit, humour, and facetite, that formerly placed it so pre- eminently above all other publications. The extraordinary success of the revival is best proof that the TOWN for a true picture of London life and manners, is still acknowledged by the public to be the only work issued from the press. Every Londoner does read it, every provincial should possess it. S. H. ( Manchester).— We will attond to the subject you allude to, and pay a visit to our friend Mrs. S., and 37, Back Bridge- street. We like pigeons in a pie. W. L. ( Leeds).— A story with a moral shall be inserted, if pos- sible in No. 14. H. L.— See our Town Trifles, send again, and as often as con- venient. S. P. P. D. ( Great Russell- street.)— We know what yoa allude to, it was about two in the morning, whilst off the Isle of Man light- house, that Mingaud burst forth with " Beautiful Sea," perhaps he never sang better, certainly never with greater effect; he was surrounded by the sailors, and a crowd of deck passengers, who loudly encored him. It was quite an exciting scene to witness the enthusiasm of the seamen amidst the roar- and dashing of the waves. Mingaud is now at Jem Ward's, • where he is ( what he is everywhere) a favourite. STEPHEN STIFF.— Try and communicate with us on Monday, if you are desirous of your articles appearing in the next number. W. I. D. 0. ( Oxford).— All right, old feller, send when you like, what you like, and as often as you like, you may depend upon being attended to. FUDDIPIIAT ( Old- street).— We don't know " the reason why the pipe constructors of St. Luke's, always leave off stout and take to half- pints of beer, when their pipes are counted." " Do you?" PETER FLIPPIT ( Birmingham).— The whole of your communica- tion will appear in No 14, you will also find a note as you desire on Tuesday the nineteenth. THE TALE, " Why don't you get married," also Mary Ann Bus- ter's letter, in our next. VALETUDINARIAN ( Brighton).— For the present such notices must stand over, try your fist at something else. INQUISTOR ( Bristol).— My dear child, you are too clever, it was neither the printer, the editor, or Mr. Winn, you must haveposi- tively got it in your eyes, to have made such a mistake. Read the article again. A SUBSCRIBER ( Liverpool).— Now we understand you. Such things as you allude to would be difficult to obtain, and very dangerous to supply ; it would cost about 2/., and we only know one person that you could depend upon. ARGUS.— We will communicate with you. In the interim, send— not too blue. A RECENT SERVANT AT THE LAMB.— If you were a servant, more shame for you to write such a letter. It's one thing to chaff, another to injure. We'll have no more to do with the subject. TIM SHARP ( Devonport).— Your suggestion is under considera- tion ; write as you promise. J. ( Leather- lane).— Attend at the court in Basinghall- street on the 25th iust.; it will be fine fun, and no doubt there will be a rare exposure in the morning papers. R. O. P.— The article on " London Procuresses" in our next, if possible. MAX.— Much obliged for your attention. A YORKSHIREMAN ( Hull).— We are fearful we cannot use your article for the present— there are, however, other subjects you can write upon. S. G.— We will visit the " Black Boy and Camel," Leadenhall- street. A SUBSCRIBER ( Liverpool)— Write to Mr. Nicholson, at the Jus- ! Ti TAVERN, B'.' w-.- trcet. AN ABRIDGMENT OF THE HISTORY OF PUNCH. ( BY PUFF, JUNIOR.) [ The writer of the following history, begs to offer it to the at- tention of parents and teachers, with the hope that the work may be found useful in preparing the way for a more intimate acquaint- ance with the interesting branch of learning on which it treats. These little outlines being designed for the use of very young children, the writer has studied to preserve the style as simple as possible, and to avoid any details likely to weary the attention of the little pupil, and disgust him with a study, in itself so allur- ing.] Who was Punch?— A cruel hump- backed tyrant, with a long nose. Had Punch a wife?— Yes, he had. What was her name?— Judy. Did Punch behave well to his wife?— Sometimes. Why do you say sometimes?— Because, sometimes they fought, and sometimes they were very loving. Had Punch and Judy a child?— Yes, they had. What did the tyrant Punch do to his child?— He flung it out of the window. Did Judy do anything to Punch for flinging her child out of the window?— Yes, she did. What was that?— She hit him very hard on the head with a baton. What's a baton?— A stick Ha l Punch a dog?— Yes, he had. What was the dog's name?— Toby. Was'nt Punch very kind to his dog?— Yes, he was. How do you know he was kind to his dog?— Because he used to say to him," 0! you little beauty." Did the dog ever bite his master?— Yes, sometimes Punch used to play very lough with it, and he used to bite his master's nose. Was'nt Punch very absurd to his dog?— Yes, he used to make him hold a pipe in his mouth and stand on his hind legs. Was Punch allowed to go on in his wicked ways?— No, the constable came to take him up. Did the constable take him up ?— No, Punch knocked him own. Didn't a Frenchman try to take him up also?— Yes, he did. What method did the Frenchman make use of?— He thought to frighten Punch by his language. Pray tell mo what the Frenchman said?— He said " Heco, peco! chimmy, chimmy, chump!" What does that mean?— The black man ate the white man up. Whom did the Frenchman mean by the black man?— He meant the devil: he was alluding to the devil eating Punch up, Did Punch threaten to kill the Frenchman?— Yes, he did. What did he do then?— He asked the hangman, commonly called Jack Ketch, to show him. Did the hangman, or Jack Ketch, show him ?— Yes, he did; and when he had put his head through the noose, Punch pulled the rope very tight, till it strangled him. What did Punch say to the hangman?— He asked him if his name was Keteli, and told him to catch that. Was'nt Punch very pleased at what lie had done ?— Yes, he san " RootUutitoo." What does " Roolitutitoo " mean?"— It means rue to you, you ^ ou. ECRETS FOR YOUNG MEN, OLD MEN SINGLE MEN, MARRIED MEN. Price 6d.; post free, eight Stamps. An invaluable little work, giving rules by which all diseases can be cured without medical aid. " This is a useful little book, and should be possessed by every Englishman."— Public Press. BEAUTIES DE LA NATURE, four splendid engravings 03. 6d. ; post paid, 6s. TALES OF TWILIGHT, coloured plates, 10s. 6d.; postage, Is. Just published, THE ADVEN- TURES OF A YOUNG OFFICER, coloured plates, 10s. 6d.; post- paid, 12s. MONROSE, THE LIBERTINE, from the French, plates, 10s. 6d.; post- paid, 12s. PHILOSOPHY OF PLEASURE, plates, 10s. 6d.; post- paid, 12s. MARRIAGE, Is. 6d.; post- paid, Is. lOd. EIGHT SPICY PLATES, h la Franeaise, One Shilling ; post- paid, Is. 6d. SPICE NUTS, a charm- ing collection of delicious pictures, for Bachelors' parties, Is.; Dost- paid, Is. 6d. BEAUTY OF WOMAN, six coloured French plates, by Dizier, 3s. 6d. PRETTY GIRLS OF LONDON, twelve engravings, splendidly coloured, 10s. 6d.; postage, Is. 6d. JULIA, or, I've Saved my Rose, coloured plates, 10s. 6d.; postage, Is. COAL- HOLE SONGSTERS, Is. each. BACHELOR'S ALBUM, ten coloured plates from the French, 2s.; postage 6d. SEALED GEMS, four exquisite plates, by Emile Jeamin, coloured by Morat, 3s. 6d.; postage 6d. CURIOSITIES, four voluptuous plates, 2s. ( id.; postage 6d. A PEARL FROM THE HAREM, by Julius Dizier, is. ; postage 6d. Also, THE SECRETS OF NATURE REVEALED, 2s. 6d.; postage 6d. THE SWELL'S NIGHT GUIDE THROUGH LONDON, Edited by the Lord Chief Baron, 3s. 6d.; postage Is. AMOURS OF LORD BYRON, 4s. 6d. ; postage Is. HARRIETT WILSON, 5s. 6d. ; postage 2s. 8d. JULIA, plates, 10s. 6d. ; postage Is. 6d. ARISTOTLE'S CELEBRATED MASTER- PIECE, 3s. 6d. ; TAIL PIECES, eight racy plates, a la Francais. WAGGERIES, four coloured plates from the French, Is. 6d. LES PERLES POUR LES GENTILHOMMES, 3s., splendid coloured plates. FLOWER OF LOVE, eisht highly coloured plates from the private portfolio of Louis the Fourteenth, price5s. 6d.; post- paid 6s. BUDDING BEAUTIES, four beautifully coloured drawings by Leonard Mayo, Is.; post- paid, Is. 6d. SCENES FROM THE GROVES OF ELYSIUM, eight coloured sketches from nature, 6d.; post- paid Is. PATRICIAN'S ALBUM, splendid collection of 100 highly- facetious, coloured prints and drawings of the richest and most superior style of art, 10 guineas, postage, 7s. 6d. VENUS IN THE CLOISTERS, coloured plates, 5s. 6d., postage, Is. LIFE AND INTRIGUES OF THE DUKE OF BUCKING- HAM, coloured plates, 5s. 6d., postage Is. WOMAN DIS- ROBED, a curious and amusing Love Tale, coloured plates, 3s. 6d., postage Is. MYSTERIES OF VENUS, or Lessons of Love, five plates, 4s. 6d., postage Is. WOMAN OF PLEASURE, colrd. plates, 5s. 6d, postage Is. VOLUPTUARIAN CABINET, plates, 3s. 6d., postage is. LOVERS' CABINET, coloured plates, 2s. 6d., postage 6d. VENUS'S ALBUM, or Rosebuds of Love, coloured plates, 5s. 6d., postaare Is. Lissot's celebrated Work of ONANISM UNVEILED, 3s. 6d., postage 6d. PHY- SICAL VIEW OF MAN AMD WOMAN IN A STATE OF MARRIAGE, numerous engravings, 10s. 6d., postage Is. 6d. One copy of the original edition of HARRIET WILSON, published by Stockdale, 4 vols, in 2, half calf, 2 guineas. LONDON HELLS AND HELLITES ; being a fearless Expos6 of the Nefarious Tricks aud Iniquitous Robberus perpetrated in Gambling, alias Club- Houses, by means of Games at Cards, Dice, Hazard, Rouge et Noir, Faro, E. 0-, Ecarte, & o„; including the " Art and Mystery" of plucking a " Pigeon," and authentic Anecdotes of Royal, Noble, and Ignoble Black- Legs. BY AN EX- MEMBER OP THE CLUBS. Also, HOW TO GET A GOOD HUSBAND! and HOW TO PLEASE THE MEN; being the " Private and Confidential Observations, aud the Personal Fxperiences, of One who has been a " MAID, WIPE, AND WIDOW."— THE CONFESSIONS OF A FOOTMAN; or, The Adventures of a Valet. With the Lives, Amours, and ntrigues of the Graces of Hertford. A Neat Little Pocket Volume. Price 2s. 6d., post free, 3s.— Eleventh Edition, Price 3d., or post- free for four stamps, TEN SECRETS FOR GENTS concerning a universal but most perplexing Article of Dress, con- taining full instructions for its satisfactory arrangement, with appropriate Diagrams, and upwards of thirty Illustrations.— Also, price One Shilling, or post free, for eighteen postage stamps, A VOLUME OF SECRETS. Containing tit bits for every- body, and three hundred amusing and unique wrinkles on every possible subject.— Price One Shilling, or post free, for sixteen stamps SECRETS IN THE ART OF DRESS, including a Disser- tation upon every Article and Style of Attire, with full Practical Directions for improving the Figure and Appearance, & e., & c.— Price Sixpence, THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF SONG. Containing Two Hundred and Fifty of all the most popular Songs and Recitations.— Price One Shilling, or post free for Sixteen Stamps. HOW TO GET MONEY ; or, Six Ways of Making a Fortune.— Now Publishing, the most extraordinary work ever published, complete, price One Penny, entitled NATURE'S WONDERS, as exemplified in the Extraordinary Contents of the Museum of the College of Surgeons, including Monstrosities, Malformations, and wonderful Lusus Naturae, together with Cases of Remarkable Disorders, & c., & c., profusely illustrated. London, T. HICKS, 34, Holywell- street. Frinted and publisher! tor the Proprietors by W. WINN, Holj'welt- stree 6' tr. rnd, where ali communications are to be addressed.