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The Town

01/01/1849

Printer / Publisher: W. Winn 
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 5
No Pages: 4
 
 
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The Town

Date of Article: 01/01/1849
Printer / Publisher: W. Winn 
Address: Holywell-street, Strand
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 5
No Pages: 4
Sourced from Dealer? No
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No. 5.1 ( The Second Quarterly Part will be issued at the publication of No. 26. Part I. now) T> TT T> T T d TT i. r r, n rr r r- r-> ^ „ J I Each Part to contain 13 Nos. in a Wrapper, for Is. Post free, Is. 6d j PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNY PERILOUS POSITION OF MRS. SPIN K S. TALES OF THE TOWN- MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OK, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. CHAPTER V. MRS. LORIMER SPINKS AT HOME— FEARFUL RENCONTRE IN HER BED- ROOM. AFTER dismissing the cabman, as shown in No. 1, Mrs. Spinks proceeded up stairs followed by her obsequious husband, and entered the room where he had been sitting anxiously waiting her return. Throwing her6elf into a chair, she exclaimed, with much asperity in her manner, " What is the meaning of all this? why are not the children in bed before this hour? and the window thrown up to the top, too! This is always the way, if I only step out for a moment." As she uttered these words, she proceeded to the window, which she shut down with a violence that almost shattered every pane in the frame. " Oh, heavens!" she continued, " the place smells of tobacco like a pot- house. Who have you been having here, Henry?" " There has been no one here, my dear, since you have been out," answered Spinks, meekly ; " but don't be so cross, my love, I know that blackguard cab- fellow was enough to put you out, but I couldn't help it." " Yes, you could help it," was the answer; " keeping me in the street like a fool to be stared at. You might be sure the cab was to be paid for; and if he overcharged, couldn't you take his num- ber? but it's always the way you do everything." There was a pause of a moment, during which Spinks looked imploringly at his better half. The children who, prior to the arrival of their mother had been playing about the room, were now slunk up in a corner, whilst the cause of this sudd n quiet- ness proceeded to disrobe herself. The eldest child, a girl about ten years of age, proceeded to put some coal upon the fire, when Mrs. Spinks exclaimed, with more than ordinary fierceness, " What is that for, marlam; do you suppose you are going to sit up all night, burniug fire and candle?" " Father made sigus to me for to do it," said the child, in an humble tone. " I thought, my love, you would have liked a bit of fire, as it has turned out so very chilly," responded Spinks; " but you are so very, very much put out to- night." " I have had enough to put me out, as you call it, to- night, God knows," was the answer, in a more subdued voice. " Pull down those blinds, Margaret," she added, quickly; " don't let those people opposite bo staring over here— people may, however, well stare, after the exposure there has been at the door to- night." " There, there," replied her husband, " I am sure you have said quite enough about that; for who would have dreamed of your coming hoine in the state you did to- night?" " The state I came home in ';" answered Mrs. S., her surprise struggling with her indignation. " What do you mean, sir; do you mean to insinuate " Mr. Spinks made no immediate answer, for although not the shrewdest of men, he could perceive that it was not the disturbance at the door which had so much ruffled his better half; any other individual would, in all probability, have observed that Mrs. S.' s manner was assumed, and that her passionate tone of voice, and disapprobation of everything around her, was only put on, to divert her husband from the true cause of her having remained out so long, and to give her time to frame some story, her original one ( a visit to her aunt's) having been destroyed by the singular obser- vations of the cabman. The remark of Spinks, hitherto so defe- rential, had, however, indeed surprised lier, and she felt it absolutely necessary that she should at once put down 6uch an encroachment upon her right to do as she thought proper. " What do you mean, sir?" she inquired; and darting a look which she meant to be particularly searching, added, " Mister Spinks, you have been drinking, sir." Now, the lady knew perfectly well that her unfortunate lord never, under any circumstances, indulged in even the slightest portion of exhilirating beverage during her absence, but it suited her purpose to make the charge. The accusation did not, how- ever, on the present occasion, have the anticipated effect. The poor henpecked creature had been pondering in his mind upon some of the observations made by the cabman, placing his hands therefore, together, he ejaculated, " Something has certainly hap- pened to her to- night, for she is losing ber senses; where can she have been V' Mrs. Spinks evidently misunderstood this last remark, for she continued— " Yes, sir, I repeat you have been drinking; a fine example you set your children truly, to endeavour by insinations to destroy the character of their mother before them. Mister Spinks, Mister Spinks, I'm ashamed of you— Lorimer, I thought you a different sort of man." Lorimer perceiving a disposition on the part of his wife to em- brace an attack of hysterics, attempted to explain, and the chil- dren, with the exception of the youngest, a boy three years old, who. during the above colloquy, had been missing, began to cry, when suddenly a most tremendous smash was heard from the direc- tion of the cupboard, and Master Augustus Spinks, the individual just alluded to, was hurled into the middle of the room, bearing with him sundry articles of domestic use, consisting of dishes, pickle- jars, a large sugar- basin, and the remnant of an immense gooseberry pie, presenting in one moment, what is termed in tha play bills, a most " interesting tableau." 2 THE TOWN Mr. and Mrs. Spinks's cause of difference was, for the moment, entirely forgotten, through the confusion which this last circum- stance had thrown them into; the children were all sent to their beds, and their mother about seating herself by the fire, when her daughter glided gently into the room, and whispered, The new lodger in the parlours has been creeping about the stairs, and I think he has been listening to all that's going on here. " The devil he has," shouted Spinks, with more than his usual animation, " then he's no gentleman, and so I'll tell him," and he was about making towards the door when he was forcibly pulled back by his better- half. " A new lodger in the parlours?" she inquired; " why, Lorimer, you surely have never undertaken to let those rooms in my ab- sence?" Spinks looked unutterable things; the girl, however, came to her father's rescue. " Oh, yes, mother," she said, " father has let the parlours, and to such a very, very nice looking gentleman." " Perhaps, madam, you'll speak when you're spoken to," was the answer. " I wish to know from you, Mr. Spinks, who this person is ? but first of all, miss, you'll oblige me by going back to your bed, and keeping there." The child whimperingly obeyed ; and Lorimer perceiving that it was absolutely necessary that he should give some explanation to his wife, commenced as follows :— " Why, you know, my dear, how long wa have had these rooms empty; the furniture you said only on Sunday was spoiling through damp; so this evening, just after you had gone out. there come's a double rap at the floor, and upon my answering it, who should it be but a very fine dressed gentleman, who wished to sea the apartments." " Some swindler, I'm certain," interrupted Mrs. Spinks, " by the hour of his calling." " Now, do hear first," said her husband ; " he liked the rooms very much, and said he had just come from the railwaybut must enter to night. I asked him for a reference, but he said he was from Kersall- oor, Manchester;" a slight flush passed over the countenance of Mrs. Spinks, and she gazed with considerable earnestness 011 the face of her husband, as he continued, " I knew you knew Kersal- Moor, and I thought he might be a townsman of your's, and I was not wrong, for he is a native of Manchester. He said he would pay me a month in advance; as he wanted at- tendance, you know, my dear, I asked him five and twenty shillings a week, and he gave me this five pound note— that was not too much, was it? Mrs. Spinks made no answer; her ideas were upon a very different subjects ; at length she enquired in a tone of voice very different to that in which she had spoken before, " What sort of man is he?" " A slim, dark young man, dressed in deep mourning," was the answer; " in about half an hour he brought his luggage, and plenty there is, too; the. back parlour is piled with his things, and I have taken some up- stairs." " Did you not ask what he was 1" said the wife, vacantly. " Oh yes, he's come to London upon some railway business," replied Spinks; " but," he added, " what is the matter with you, my love? how you have changed within the last few minutes— are you not well'!'' The alteration in Mrs. Spinks's features was too palpable not to be observed. During the time that her hus- band had been speaking, she had taken from his hands the note, and she now continued to gaze upon it, or rather the names with which it was indorsed, in an apparent stupor. " It is an attack of the spasms," she answered. " I will go to bed ; I shall be better there— I have had a deal of bother to- night, which has much upset me— I will tell you all to- morrow." The change in her manner alarmed Lorimer, for, despite her temper, he indeed truly loved her. " I will run for a doctor," he exclaimed, " my duckey; for I am sure you are very, very ill." " No," she answered, " it is a mere nothing, and will be over in a few minutes." " Thenl'll fetch you some brandy," be added," and you shall have it with a drop of hot water in bed. I won't be long, Margaret; you go to bed as quick as you can, for you do look very ill." As soon as Mrs. Spinks heard the door closed after her husband, she rose from the chair, and clasping her hands, exclaimed, " Thank heaven he is gone; had he have stayed another moment I should " No matter," answered Edward, again pressing her to his bosom; " the danger is over— kiss me, dearest." This time her arms encircled his neck, and a warm kiss fell upon his cheek as a low shuffling noise was heard upon the staircase, and the handle of the door turned. " I am lost," she exclaimed; " quick, hide behind this curtain; it is my husband." Edward grasped the dagger, which was as quickly wrenched from bis hand by his companion, who continued, " Wretch, what would1 you do?" The whole action was but the work of a second; the next, Spinks entered the room, exclaiming— '' Now, my dear, I've brought you the warm brandy- and- water." ( To bo continued.) WIT AMOSTGST ' THE WITLESS BROADHUKST'S.— THE BOWEB SALOON, UPPER STANGATE- STREET.. Did you ever taste my swankey ? Know what here is sold for gin ? The cove he must be crankey, Who'll dare test its strength again. My beer it is so powerful, Bringing teeth out by the roots.; And three drops of my best gin, Rots holes slick through your boots. Yes, mine's the stuff for livers, • It beats the old doctor's game, And mercury or vitriol's powers, Must hide their heads in shame. Then come unto the Bower, Where the seedy mummers throng, And where you've heard the actors (?) Take a glass of something strong. THE EAKL OP EFFINGHAM.— T. SIMS. It's very hard, indeed it is, The brewer won't give tick, A rogue in grain he sure must be, To think I'd cut my stick. For one poor little butt of beer; Folks call it dreadful trash ; The agent, too, won't leave the gin, Unless I drops the cash. Why is this change— why this rout f Dost think I'd cut away ? Or emulate that fearful Sine, " Base is the slave who'll pay'!'' THE INFAMOUS BROTHELS IN THE WATERLOO ROAD. THEATRICAL TRICKSTERS.— No. u. A correspondent in No. 2, informed us that " the women were in the habit of sitting at the doors of the houses in Granby- street, in their chemises, and calling men in;" these shameful proceedings are still continued. Occasionally, itinerant musicians are induced to stop and play in front of the houses ; the scene that then pre- sents itself baffles all description ; we have counted as many as fourteen prostitutes in a group, dancing and yelling more like savages than civilized beings. Gin and beer, but chiefly gin, is served out freely from the parlour windows, that is, if the lodgers have had anything like success on the previous night. We are now of course speaking of the broad day- light; such scenes being of almost hourly occurrence, and then the police appear not to have the power, for they seldom in the day time interfere to abate the nuisance. As recently as Friday week, we were passing through the Waterloo- road, and our attention was drawn to a crowd, princi- pally of lads, collected at the end of one of the streets; a violin and a harp were being played, and a group of girls ( all, of course, what are called gay) were going through a set of quadrilles, two of them have betrayed myself. Kind, generous man, how shamefully have only in their petticoats and stays— in the parlour was a I abused him. Never, never from this night will I again visit j middle- aged man, very intoxicated, a woman seated upon his knee, Sbadrach's; and yet that pocket- book, with its contents— and my mother's dying words," Remember, the Rod well property is yours," whilst two other fellows were smoking cigars, and giving rum to the musicians and girls. This exhibition continued for nearly a oome strangely to my recollection ; should that book have been quarter 0f aa hour, at the end of which a cry was set up of " The dropped there by him.' and he still live, I must again brave the Bobby's coming ( the police)," and a solitary policeman was seen consequences of another visit. This new lodger, too— should he ! aauntering up the street, the two ladies who were so slightly clad prove to be- - but no, that's impossible ; the names upon the note I will go to bed, nor perplex myself any further are nothing, about the matter.' The sleeping apartment was a back room, at the top of the house, the window level with the leads of the neighbouring houses ; the next room was inhabited by a Mrs. Grace Bunker, who, although she will figure somewhat largely in our next chapter, it will be sufficient for us here to aay was an excessively religious woman, who bound shoes of a day, and attended prayer- meetings and very late " love- feasts" of a night. Mrs. Spinks had removed the whole of her daily apparel, and was in the act of putting on her night- jacket when her eye fell upon a large blue cloak in the corner of the room. A sudden thought seemed to strike her; she advanced towards it, and taking it in her hand, she at once perceived marked beneath the collar the name " Gascoigne." " Great God 1" she ejaculated, " it is he 1" and the next instant she would have fallen to the ground, when she felt her waist en- circled by an arm, and a soft but manly voice whispered in tones of the sweetest endearment— " Yes, Margaret, ' tis indeed he— he that has followed you, cruel woman, through every danger." Mrs. Spinks gazed with a look of unutterable despair at the figure which now firmly clasped her in his arms. It was a man of singularly handsome exterior, about twenty five years of age, attired in a morning wrapper, and appeared to have just risen from his bed. For a moment, speech seemed to have entirely left her. " Lovely woman," continued the stranger, clasping her still firmer in hisarms, " you are at length mine." " Edward— Edward," at length exclaimed Mrs. Spinks, " re- lease me, and fly from this spot instantly. In a few moments my husband will . eturn ; and were you found here, I should be ruined for ever. What madness could indeed have induced you to take up your residence here?" " And can you, you ask that question?" answered her compa- nion ; " you who have so often professed to love me ? But no matter— I have not come here unprepared;" and withdrawing his gown, the light fell upon a long dagger or dirk. " Come what may, you must be mine." " Edward," she continued, " what would you do; is it my eternal ruin that you seek ?" The young stranger made no answer; her struggles to release herself, though trifling, had removed a considerable portion of even the slight drapery that had covered her person. The snowy whiteness of her neck, and the rich contour of her waist, even to the delicate veins that encircled her bosom, were all laid bare to his view. Again he essayed to speak, but his arms only pressed her the more firmly to his embrace, whilst at every attempt made by her at remonstrance, her mouth was closed by kisses as warm as they were continuous. At this moment a noise was heard upon the parapet; it was the sound of footsteps, evidently advancing towards the window— they drew nearer— the next instant Edward had extinguished the lamp, and almost immediately the light of the moon fell full upon the figure of a man who passed the casement, followed by the sound of the opening and closing of an adjoining window. " Who can it be," said Mrs. Spinks. entered the house, but the other women had finished their dance by the time the policeman had conveyed himself to the spot. Per- ceiving, however, that there was a crowd, he contented himself by observing, " Now, you girls, let's have no more of this larking; get in- doors," and then passed down the street, dispersing the boys. I11 about five minutes he returned, the music was gone, but the window was open; the policeman stopped for a moment; there was, a " Here, old fellow, come in and take this, it won't hurt you;' and we saw the man glide into the passage, but we don't know what took place, for he was there but an instant. We, however, heard one of the women remark, as he went down the street,"" He wasn't such a bad sort, after all." We repeat, that incidents like these are of hourly occurrence; and, although we are aware these unfortunates must live somewhere, surely some check might be put upon them, so as to prevent such gross outrages upon public de- cency. Anything like remonstrance with these women being only answered by a polite reference to the part they sit down upon. PICKLE- HERRING UPPER WHARF, THAMES- STREET. Francis Marcus Beresford, Esq., is the wharfinger here, and numerous— very numerous— are the legends which have reached us relative to his economy. Passing the establishment a few days since, we thought our editorial vastness might glean some hu- morous information by looking in upon the worthies, and hence the present notice. The first person that attracted our attention was Mr. Charles Hicks, the head clerk, whom we found actively en- gaged with some freshly imported wild Irishmen, a genus of which he is remarkably fond, taking every possible opportunity of giving them employment, at the rate of threepence per hour. Mr. H. has great command over these men, and a most praiseworthy eye to the interest of his employer, generally contriving to get the best part of an hour out of each man in the course of the day, namely, by setting them to work, perhaps twenty minutes before eight in the morning, and stopping the work at twenty minutes after four in the afternoon; thus, as they are paid from eight till four, gaining forty minutes of every man's labour, as many as fifty men being employed in the course of the day. This an Englishman would not stand; therefore Hicks will not employ them, if he can help it. Our friend, however, sometimes catches a Tartar, as he indeed did, some months since, in the case of Rogers, whom he gave into custody for insulting! him. Hicks is literally worshipped by the English people at the sack warehouse opposite, and his fame for kindness (?) extends for a considerable distance along the southern banks of the Thames. When we entered the wharf, we found some chaff going on about Brady, the foreman, who is a very quiet, old womanish sort of creature, but who, it appeared, had received a trifle for show- ing some goods on sale, but had not divided it amongst his pals. A tallow- faced individual, who appeared to know every person's business but hi3 own, and answered to the name of Jim Ham- mond, attempted to interfere, but was told to go into the ware- house, and write another crying- letter to Hicks. One of the gangers calling him " slave- driving Jem," and " Hicks's little boy," a general row was the result, whereupon we left. MR. E. GREEN, STAGE MANAGER, QUEEN'S THEATRE. " Take him for all in all, We ne'er shall look upon his like again." It has ever been the lot of exalted genius to struggle against the prejudices and worldly selfishness of little minds, and even when that genius has, by its unmistakeal'. e superiority, raised itself to something like a position worthy of its character, tht re are still to be found— such, alas, is the sordid character of human nature— beings who will carp and cavil at the propriety of the ele- vation. Such has hitherto been the position of the gentleman whose name forms the subject 01 our present article; aman, perhaps, better abused does not exist. The choicest stars in the theatrical hemisphere have risen from amidst clouds of almost impenetrable obscurity; the greatest and best who have trod the stage of our country, and shed, by their impersonations, a halo around the writings of our most gifted dramatists, have risen but from com- parative insignificance ; hence, Mr. E. Green, the gifted stage- manager of the Queen's Theatre, made his debut before a London audience at a penny establishment in the New- cut, Lambeth, known by the name of " Hamilton's Theatre." His peculiarity of style, even at that early period, attracted more than ordinary attention; the superior tensiveness of his lungs became as common in men's mouths as household words; his name and fame reached a neighbouring establishment; and, although it might be food to the vanity of young beginners to be called on to repeat a part four times in one night, two shillings each evening furnished but scanty food for himself and partner; and he rejoiced to find him- self removed to the boards of the Surrey Theatre, playing utility ( true genius is ever retiring) business at eighteen shillings per week. Fortune, it has been said, sometimes smiles upon deserv- ing objects; in the case of Mr. G., at this period, it was verified, and his name next appeared upon the roll of the Haymarket com- pany as under- prompter, where his quiet, unassuming manners, won for him the respect of nearly every one in the theatre. We are compelled to use the somewhat negative expression neaVly, for, to the shame of certain members of the company, be it said, there were not wanting those who branded his respectful deference to all above him, with the vulgar appellation of " sneaking "; whilst his praiseworthy efforts to rescue his family from the destitution which even then pursued him, was denominated " sponging." The intuitive feeling of talent which buoyed up the elder Kean, and supported him amidst the difficulties of his first appearance, induced Green to leave the Haymarket, and appear as a trage- dian on the boards of a small theatre, somewhere at the back of Tothill- street, Westminster. Something told him he was born to be a great actor, and hence this step. We will pass over his various struggles, at the Bower Saloon, with fame and famine, till we find him at the Olympic Theatre, where, we believe, he, for the first time, essayed the character of theatrical proprietor. Alas, how often are our best intentions distorted, by the ingenuity of malicious detractors, into an appearance of the most barefaced villany! Here we are grieved to be compelled to record a most painful illustration of the power of such wretches. At the period when our much- maligned friend entered upon the management of the Olympic Theatre, there was no regular company, certainly no Treasury; he, therefore, collected the first, and, with equal assiduity, endeavoured to collect a something from the second. Will it be believed? scarce was there time afforded him to form, much less mature, his plans, ere a feeling of dissatisfaction arose among the company. Five nights they played, and on the sixth these individuals, who had not been earning anything for some weeks, positively struck for salary! A most infamous attack was made upon the character of poor Mr. Green by a mistaken young man of the name of Linguard, who, addressing the audience from the stage, boldly charged him with " doing" them. Mr. Green, however, with a nobleness of purpose which rose superior to the vile insinuations of his enemies, refused to answer, much less to enter into explanation; and, seeing through the selfishness of his brother- actors, but dreading a charge of favouritism might be brought against him, he wisely refused to pay a shilling to any one connected with the theatre— a resolution which he firmly adhered to; pocketing their insults, and— it was added by his ene- mies— every farthing left in the treasury, at one and the same time. Of course, all who are acquainted with the real character of Mr. Green will understand the true motive for such charges. It is painful to reflect upon so much infamy, and equally painful to witness the shifts to which talent when in distress is often put to. Rumours were now spread by parties determined upon ruin- ing Mr. Green in the profession, that he was a drunkard. This we must give a most unqualified contradiction to, as Mr. Green always appeared to us to defy drink. " Intense study, acting upon a weak stomach," he has since told us, gave him the ap- pearance of indulging in intoxicating liquids. Misery, in its most fearful form, still continued to pursue Mr. Green with the relentless endurance of a shadow, his appearance in the streets being sepulchral in the extreme. His wild, hag- gard, starving look excited the commiseration even of the wretches who, by their dastardly inuendoes, had brought him to this fearful state, whilst his intellectual attainments were the admiration of all who could understand them. Some of his letters at this period are of the most soul- harrowing character. Truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction; and the truthfulness of these appeals far outstrips the most elaborate begging- letters that ever came into possession of Horsford, the officer to the Mendi- city. Some of these epistles, which were addressed to Mr. John Douglass, at the time he was lessee of the Marylebone, are still, webelieve, amongst his papers. Despite, however, the destitution of Mr. Green, such was the malignity of some heartless scoun- drels, from whom he had borrowed a few shillings ( a thing he ever abhorred), that these epistles, by a refinement of cruelty, were parodied, and posted in the green- rooms. We give two as a specimen:— " Tap- room of the Harp, Great Russell- street. SIR— I have not been in a bed for nineteen nights. My last meal of meat was Thursday fortnight, and that was a piece of raw bullock'sliver, given to me by a benevolent slaughterman in Whitechapel- market. Send me a trifle, if it's only sufficient to purchase soap to cleanse my linen. Every fibre of my frame is alive with misery.— Yours, & c." Another was to the following effect :— " DEAR SIR— I know not what horrible fate awaits me, unless you speedily forward me some relief. One of my children this morning attempted to devour the knife- board; and another, a fine girl, is stretched upon the hard floor, in dreadful agony, through gnawing the puttey out of our casement. We have nothing in the house but a piece of Flanders- brick, and some soup, which my poor little woman ( a felicitous term he had for his wife) made by stew- ing down a pair of old russet boots, and a portion of a gauntlet. " S. Douglass, Esq." " Yours, & c., parching." Cruel as are these documents, they tend, in some measure, to show the state to which Green must have been reduced, and wa only now allude to them because we know, and as, indeed, we shall in our next number prove, Mr. G. has not, like too many wo could name, in his present exalted position forgotten himself. In our next, we shall record his struggles with fortune, and Mr. Samuel Douglass, at the Marylebone; also refute the infamous accusation made by Mr. Carter, the costumier, relative to the 51. loan; and continue his history down to the present time. Ere we conclude this article, we must congratulate Mr. C. J. James, the spirited and liberal- minded proprietor of the Queen's Theatre, upon the acquisition lie has gained in Mr. Green. It is no mean praise, and certainly deserved, to say they are fitted for each other. ( To be continued.) Osbaldiston, upon beinu' shown Shepperd's announcement of a first benefit, observed, " I ( hur)— won— der ( hur)— where ( hur)— his ( hur)— next ( hur)— will ( hur)— be." THE TOWN. 3 MEMOIR OE A ERENCH LADY OE FASHION- ( Continued from our last.) Presently I heard announced, " A volume, well- bound, gilt edges, entitled " Manon Les- cant," with notes in pencil; twenty francs." Twenty- two !" said a voice, after a long silence. " Twenty- five!" I continued. " Twentv- five 1" repeated the auctioneer. '* Thirty 1" said the one who had bid first, in a tone which seemed to defy any one to oppose him. I bad naturally read and re- read " Manon Lescant," which I knew by heart, and probably I should not have insisted, when the auctioneer resumed, I repeat that the book is not intact, and that there are pencil notes." ' Twas curious to see these notes, and I cried " thirty- five francs," in a tone, which also seemed a defiance to my adver- sary. " Forty," said the latter. " Fifty." " Sixty." " A hundred," I cried. I confess that if I had wished to make a sensation, I had completely succeeded, for, at this bidding, there was a general silence, and they looked at me, as if to ascertain who was the gentleman who appeared. so determined to possess this vo- lume. It seemed that the accent I had given to my last bidding, had convinced my antagonist that I would not yield, and he preferred abandoning a struggle, which would only have served to make me pay for the volume ten times its worth, and bowing, he said to me very graciously, although after a little delay; " I yield, Sir." No one having made another offer, the book was knocked down to me. As I was fearful of another obstinate fit, which my pride would have maintained, but which my purse would certainly have found very inconvenient, I gave my name, had the vo- lume put aside, and descended, which afforded much scope for their thoughts to the persons, witnesses of this scene, who asked themselves, no doubt, with what object I had paid a hundred francs for a book I might procure any where for ten or twelve francs at the most. If I had been obliged to give a sound reason for this de- sire. I should have been greatly embarrassed. I had deter- mined to have this volume, because the auctioneer had an- nounced it as nnted by Marguerite, and I was curious to see the notes which this younger sister had added to the life of her elder sister. An hour afterwards I had sent for my purchase. On the first page was written with a pen, and in an elegant hand, the dedication of him who had presented this book to Marguerite. This dedication was simply in these words :— " Manon to Marguerite, " HUMILITY." It was signed— Armand Duval. What meant this word, " humility r" Did Man an recognise in Marguerite, in the opinion of the donor, a superiority of debauchery or of goodness? The second interpretation was the most likely, for the first would only have been an impertinent frankness, which no om* would have signed, and which Marguerite would not have accepted, whatever opinion she might have had of herself. I made these reflections whilst turning over the pages ot the volume, which appeared to have been much read, and some of the leaves of which c ntained in fact, notes in pen- cil. but which were almost effaced, and only a few letters of which could be faintly distinguished. To me, the result of this purchase was, that Marguerite had been judged worthy by some one, to comprehend Manon Lescant, and that the history of her ancestor in prostitution, had so far interested her that she passed away, in annotating it, a time she might have employed, if not in a more useful, a least in a more lucrative manner. I then went out, and did not again take up the book till I went to bed. Certainly, Manon Lescant is a touching history, not a de- tail of whic h is unknown to me, and yet, when I find this volume in my hand, the sympathy I have fnr it has such an attraction for me that I open it, and for the hundredth time I live again with the heroine of the Abbe Prevost. Now, this heroine is so true, that it seems to me I have known her; and in the circumstances I have just related, the sort of com- parison they had drawn between her and Marguerite, added, for me, a new charm to the perusal. Manon Lescant* is surely the noblest book of the heart ever written, the most serious anatomy of the passion of love ever produced. It is true in the past, in the present, and in the future; and her conversion, the fruit of love, it is noble as the conversion of Magdali- n, the result of faith. I have said in a former chapter, that lam full of indulgence towards courtesans; ' tis especially from the perusal of Manon Lescant that this indulgence sprung. The descendants have profited by the merit of the ancestor, as many other actual descendants; but on the night I again read her history, whilst thinking of Marguerite, my indulgence increased to pity, and almost love for the poor girl, to whose heritage I was indebted for the volume. Manon had died in a desert, it is true, but in the arms of the man who loved her with all the strength of his soul, who, when dead, dug for her a grave, which he moistened with his tears, and in which, on quitting, he buried his heart; whilst Marguerite, a sinner, like Manon, and perhaps converted like her, had died in the midst of a sumptuous luxury, and in the bed of her past days, but also, in the midst of that desert of the heart, much more barren, much more vast, much more unpitying, than that in which Manon had been interred. Marguerite, in fact, as'I had learnt from some friends, in- formed of the last circumstances of her life, had not beheld a real consolation seat itself at her bedside during the two months her slow and painful agony had lasted. Then, from Manon and from Marguerite, my thoughts passed to those I knew, and whom I beheld journeying, and singing on the road, towards a death, almost always inva- riable. Poor creatures! If it is a wrong to love them, the least we can do is to pity them. You pity the blind who has never beheld the light of day, the deaf who has never heard the sounds of nature, the dumb who has never been enabled to render the voice of his soul; and under a false pretence of modesty, you will not pity that blindness of heart, that deaf- ness of the soul, that muteness of the conscience, which ren- der the poor afflicted one mad, and which make her, despite herself, inc apuble of distinguishing the good, of hearing the * This work, of which Dumas speaks so highly, is in a course of trans- lation for THE TOWN. Creator, and of speaking that pure language of love, and of faith. , Thus God, in his eternal clemency, from time to time gives to the world the spectacle of the holy conversion of one ol them, and redeems by this conversion the errors of all the rest, as Christ redeems by his death the faults of all men; then, besides the convert who has redeemed them, God also sends them the priest who absolves them, and the poet who defends them. Consult the ecclesiastics of the towns, and they will tell you that they have listened to their confessions, and that they have seen die as saints women they had considered for ever lost. Owr great poet Hugo has written " Marian de Lorme," De Muset has produced " Bernerette," Alexander Dumas has written " Fernanda," the thinkers and poets of all times have brought to the courtesan the offering of their pity; and occasionally a great man has re- established them by his love, and even by his name. If I thus insist on thispoint, it is that amongst those who are about to read me; many perhaps are " eady to throw aside the book, in which they fear they will only meet with an apology for vice and prostitution, and the age of the author no doubt contributes to cause this fear. Let those who think thus, undeceive themselves, and let them continue if this fear alone restrains them. I am fully convinced of one principle, which is that— for the woman who has not been taught by education the way to good, God almost always opens two roads that lead to it: these roads are grief and love. These paths are difficult; those who enter them bruise their feet, wound their hands, but purify their hearts. They leave to the briars and brambles of the route the garments of vice, and arrive at the end with that nudity at which we blush not before the Saviour. Those who encounter the bold travellers must support them, and say to the world, who are ignorant of it, that they have encountered them, for, by publishing it, they point out the road It is not sufficient simply to place at the entrance of life two posts, the one bearing the inscription, " the road to good," the other this warning, " the road to evil," and to say to those who present themselves—" Choose ;" we must make paths that lead from the latter to the former those who have suffered themselves to be tempted by the wayside ; and the commencement of these paths must not be too painful nor appear too impenetrable. Christianity is there with its wondrous parable of the prodi- fal son to recommend us indulgence and pardon. Our aviour is full of love for these poor souls, wounded by the passions of men, and whose wounds he loves to heal by drawing the balm that is to heal them from the wounds themselves. Thus he said to Magdalen, " Much shall be re- mitted to you, because you have loved much." A sublime pardon should awaken a sublime faith. [ To be continued.] TOWN TRIFLES. Henry Farren has got himself remarkably well chaffed by our contemporary the Era, for his impudence in writing a letter to that journal. The epistle is quite agem in its way, and should, after bein « framed and glazed, be sent to the British Museum. Every- body should read the Era of April 15tli. Batty is mad to en- gage Mr. F. as secretary, for he says, " He's a clever beggar at writing a letter, and his bills, if written by him, would be sure to draw the attention of the press." I've got my rings all out of pawn, A watch to every child, Alec, says the Turk's come back, So I must draw it mild. My lovely boy, my beauteous boy, With earings in thy ears, Folks may call thee puppy, ape, I laugh at all such sneers. Alec., thou art my on- y joy, Though but. a grocer's fag, The mangle for thee again I turns, Whene'er you has the bag SlMOK. White Lion- place, Paddington. A person remarking that the wife of a certain pill- maker was exceedingly active in his business, a wag observed, it is not strange that a woman who had such a Holloio- way for her husband, should interest himself about his pills. A certain fair friend of ours, reading that Napier was about to take the command in India, observed, " Ah! that's something like; Gough is no use. Before a very few weeks, Napier will prove the strength of the English standard, and the power of British balls." The women are in a perfect consternation about the arrival ot Strauss, the composer, and it's all up with Jullien. Music foi the " Shirt Polka " and the " Blanket Quadrilles," for two figures, are all the rage. The old " up the middle and down again," is quite done away with. THE SONG OF THE LONDON PAVIEB. Hurrah for the London pavier, Hurrah for his hammer and all! He levies a tax with his broad pickaxe, And sits throned on a long brick wall. He blocks up the street— as a conqueror's feat, And laughs at the throng who assail, But he'll have his smoke, his jest and his joke, And his tankard of porter and ale. Then hurrah for the London pavier, Hurrah for his hammer and all! He levies his tax with a broad pickaxe, And is throned on a high brick wall. What matter to him, though an omnibus grim, Comes up full within and full out, He bids those in haste, no more minutes to waste, But go a few miles round about. His empire is small, but from stone to wall, He reigns as a despot there, With a wisp of hay tied to his side he will stay, His road- cry is " No Thoroughfare!" Then hurrah for, & c. The sexton may trade with his mattock and spade, And the stoker be proud of his thrall, But the pavier can boast of ruling the roast, With an engine more mighty th n all. He stems with his sway, the torrent by day, That flows past his kingdom with glee; And with lanthorn by night, as he blazons the light, What monarch more potent than he? Then hurrah for the London pavier! He levels the great and small, Hurrah for the strength of his brawny arm, Hurrah for his hammer and all! Nelson Lee said to Mr. John Ryan, with a considerable degree of pomposity, at the agent's in Bow- street, on Tuesday last— ' Ryan, I have done with you." Doubtless, Jack would be glad to know what Nelson Lee has ever done for him, though the showman, in his time, has done for many in the profession. PENCHLINGS OF PUBLIC- HOUSES. THE LAMS, VERE- S TREET, CLARE- MARKET. JEFFERY'S. . " Here we've a song, a right merry song, It's the thing that I love to hear; With a widder to smile, and listen the while She serves out. the sin and the beer." WjiiHsaiu's LAST NEW BALLAD. THE pages of our immortal print, a few numbers back, dragged to the light of immeasurable fame, certain characters who " hang- out " at this hostelrie. Being informed that our strictures upon the widow- hunting carpenter, the stunner of Princess- street, had very much affected him, and that the little timber- merchant had taken to tea and slops, in consequence of his lady having determined to have ' he gate locked at a quarter past ten, we thought we'd pay them another visit. It was, however, whilst standing at the bar a few nights since, that we heard Mrs J. observe to a red- faced man, in a regular knock- me- down flash- looking hat, " I shouldn't wonder if the TOWN don't pay a visit to our sing- ing some Thursday night— I should glory in it." And, accordingly, on Thursday, the 12th instant, behold us quietly picking our way from the office to the above establishment. Passing through Stanhope- street, we gave a look in at the Royal Yacht, and found the delicate- looking Scotchman, busily engaged poring over a Times newspaper, containing an account of a licensed- victualler who had been summoned before the magistrate for horsewhipping his wife nearly to death. Perceiving that our host's humane feelings were very much shocked, we did not inter- rupt by observation, but proceeded on to the place of destination. After a nod of recognition with Mrs. Jeffery, who looked as much as to 6ay—" I've seen you somewhere before, but can't tell where"— we entered the parlour. At the moment of our entrance a man was hooting out something about what lie did " When the stormy winds do blow," but, as upon a Second look we found it was only Moss, the Vere- street snob, we did not trouble ourselves much about the matter. It appeared, however, that this gentleman, who has scraped together a portion of the " vile dross," through taking houses in low neighbourhoods and under- letting them to poor people, was not the " riglar chairman;" he informed us with much dignity, he was " only fulfilling the hoflice to oblige Mrs. J—, in the absence of Mr. Flint." Almost immediately after- wards, however, Mr. Flint ( the eminent engraver of Princess- street) arrived, and his appearance at once betokened that newas in a lamentable state of lushey- spooneyism, and unfit for the post of chairman, he with much difficulty informed the amazed con- gregation, that " he'd been in the city," which declaration was instantly followed by " What the blazes is that to us V from Bill Phair ; whilst a voice from the vice- cnair, in a drunken Irish brogue, gurgled out " Order, gintlemen; order, gintlemen; doan't let us hav a disthurbance." This individual, during the whole of the evening, contrived to make himself a most elaborate muff and decided annoyance to every one of the company, by continu- ally rising from his chair, and proposing the health of different persons in the room, notwithstanding he was repeatedly inter- rupted in these attempts by cries from Frank of " There's Har rington bursting to make a speech again." There was something however about this person, although we had never seen him before, that irresistibly attracted our attention. The crafty designing glance about the eye, and the perpetual fidgetty consequential restlessness of body, at once convinced us that he was, to use a common expression, on first- rate terms" with himself. He evidently thought himself the " Captain Kr. owall" of the room, swaggering about with a pomposity truly disgusting. At the same time we fonnd there was nothing like pride about him, for he drank out of everybody's glass or pot, with the friendliness of a cosmopolite. We afterwards ascertained that this was no less an individual than Harrington, the celebrated " flying painter," for an explanation of which term our informant referred us to the Craven's Head, in Drury Lane. During the time we had been contemplating the os- frontis of this genus, our quenchless friend little Jack Woodham had been 1 warbling " Villiam of the Ferry," interrupted every now and then by Shaylor, who kept muttering " Oh ! I wish he'd put on that last claret coat I made him ; he'd ' a sung so much better." At the conclusion of this song, Bill Phair got upon his legs, and after making a very low bow all round, spoke as follows:— You've heard I doesn't often patter, And all here knows I his a hatter. Across the water his my shop; Then why do I here so often stop? I'll tell you why He was not permitted to finish the sentence, for Flint from a corner of the room, spasmodically ejaculated, " Here comes the d— d hat club caper again," in return for which Bill looked duelling- pistols at him. A jolly row would, no doubt, have been the result, when the door was suddenly thrown open, and Millis, the far- famed ex- tinman and publican, rushed into the room, exclaiming, " lie is come!" Everybody immediately rose from their chairs, and the next instant John Carpenter Weatherall, Esq., entered the room, amidst loud cries of " a seat for the widow- polisher," " Frank, get your master a chair," " Where's the hat- peg?" & c., & c.; Har- rington being particularly active, bowing to Jack like a Chinese mandarin in the grocer's windows. As soon as tne confusion had subsided, Weatherall, who appeared very much e scited, and looked like a person that had taken an over- dose of salts and senna, requested they would proceed with the harmony, and Millis instantly stunned the assembly with " The Umbrella Courtship," in the midst of which Mr. W. left the room. Voices were almost immediately heard in the bar, and stray sen- tences, such as " Don't be ridiculous, Weatherall"—" It's all non- sense, you might have been here before; I suppose you've been to that mother Lynch's again," reached the parlour. Upon Wea- therall's return, he was called on for a song, prior to which, George Allcorn told Phair he would let him have a club at the next house he took if he didn't kick up a row with poor Flint. As we thought there would be a shindy, after taking another glass of grog ( and a first- rate glass the widow does sell, and no chaff), we left the parlour. Wetherall singing away like a railway express, about the " sun blazing in the castle," and we pondering, as we journeyed to the office, whether he would ever be " blazing in the Lamb." After a very recent trial for criminal conversation at Chester, a certain learned gent, observed to the plaintiff, who had obtained £ 350 damages, and kept repeatedly in a jocose manner calung his wife his half ( not better half), " Yes, yes, you are quite right, Mr. S—, in calling Mrs. S— your half, for certainly Mr. F— has en- ' oyed quite as much of her company as you did yourself." The aquatic exhibitions at the Standard and City of London Theatre have created quite a ferment in that quarter. It appears that Nelson Lee's concern was so exceedingly weak that on the first night of exhibition scarcely a drop of water could be forced through it, and every person in the front declared his piece to be a failure. Douglass's was in the opposite extreme; it required, on Easter Monday, fifteen men to keep it in; and Taylor, the promp- ter, rushed about the stage declaring he never saw such an affair before. Homier observed it looked immense from the front. In short everybody is congratulating Mr. John Douglass upon the strength of his water. Lloyd's last Sunday paper, speaking of the performances at the Haynaarket, says, " The part of the villager who has been seized by the Sphinx, and is about to be converted into an Irish stew, was most characteristically supported by Mr. Clarke— his little bit was done very cleverly," rather an interesting announcement for Mrs. Clarke. 4 THE TOWN ISLE OF WIGHT KISSES ; OR, SPORT IN THE UNDERCLIFF.— No. I. THE MAN ABOUT TOWN. ' Twas moonlight, and we sat alone, Laura and I, amidst the wreck,* Whose masses of calcareous stone The am'rous ivy loves to deck: It is a spot but little known To such as jaunt along in flyes, And by the drivers seldom shown, Unless you ask them where it lies. ' Twas here the nightingale was singing The vesper anthem, priz'd so dearly, And zephyr round about us flinging Those odours, which by nature clearly Were lavish'd on the simplest flow'rs, To make their situations pleasant, And render ev'ning's tranquil hours, ( When brighten'd by her cloudless crescent) Congenial with that commerce sweet, For whose indulgence lovers meet! Two souls more am'rous, or more feeling, It would, perhaps, be hard to find— We had no secrets worth concealing, Except from people disinclin'd To second what we had design'd : And as no mortal then was stealing Along the public path behind! We thought of nothing but revealing Those soft sensations of the mind, Which knit warm hearts so close together, In summer's soul— subduing weather ! But why do lovers court the moon, And gaze with rapture on her paces So fondly in the month of June, In all such unfrequented places? That man must be the veriest loon, Unus'd to passion's glowing phases, Who cannot answer this as soon As question'd— for methinks the case is So plain, self- evident, and striking, That no one can be left in doubt, Why they display so strong a liking To places where they loll about, Or stroll, secure from observation, Intent on rapture's consummation. It is the moon that gives the features, In all such lonely haunts, that beauty Which, when discern'd in doting creatures, Draws many a husband from his duty ; To sit and watch its placid light On beauty's angel traits expanding, Would move the dullest anchorite, And sap the soundest understanding! We prate of wisdom, but when pitted Against a woman's angel races, Philosophy's but little fitted— To neutralize her warm embraces ! Our firm resolves, our deepest reason Are rendered feeble by her glances ; But more so as the sunny season Towards the end of June advances, For then, assisted by the weather, They foil reflection altogether! ' Twas moonlight as I said before, And Laura by my side was sitting, Within an arbour netted o'er With woodbines which were then emitting Such odours as appear'd to aid The assignation we had made ! When lips are pouting to be press'd What lover can resist their motions ? When pillow'd on a female breast, Whose swell assimilates the ocean's, Who does not feel disposed to kiss The spot that offers so much bliss ? A woman feels delight, no doubr, In coursing with the man that charms her, Who, when he beats the bush about, To start the hares he longs to rout, By no means seriously alarms her. She knows full well in lonely nooks That hares will shroud from mortal ken, And something near to purling brooks Avoid the guns of sporting men ; But Laura dreaded no man's gun, Nor cared how many hares were started, So long as she enjoyed the fun With him who had the sport begun, Which so much mutual bliss imparted " Bonchuroh, Isle of Wight. OCTAVION. THE RISING SUN, BROKER'S ROW, DRURY LANE. The above house, which is situated at the corner of Charles- street and Broker's- row, Drury- lane, which has lately been going the pace very tidy, and bets are being laid of 7 to 2, as to how long the place will be permitted to be kept open. There is scarcely a move upon town that i< not gone through at this detestable crib; formerly, there was a great deal of chaff about the doings at Joe Banks's, when he kept the Hare and Hounds in the Holy- land; but this puts the perfect stuns on stunning Joe's, for nothing can approach the Rising Sun. The proprietor is J. W. Lee, Esq., re- cently pipe and porter- page at the Great Mogul hotel, Drury- lane, where, having amassed a considerable fortune, he was enabled to open the present lushery. Entertainment is here literally pro- vided for the million, and that, too, at all hours, and of ever[ j de- scription. Entering from Broker's- row, there is a portion of the bar snugly parted off, with a nice little door, strongly bolted, where a social game of " broads'' may be enjoyed at any hour of the day, if parties are not scrupulous as to their company. On Tuesday evening, a gentleman of the name of Jones, who says that his legitimate means of obtaining a livelihood is by butcher- ing, gives lessons in the art of self- defence, and on Wednesdays and Saturdays, there is a " sing- song," to which females are admitted on one night. The fair sex who patronize this house, are of very free and unaffected manners, joining in the conversation of the Covent- garden costermongers ( no matter what the subject) with most engaging familiarity. Very often their good nature is se- verely taxed, some of the gentlemen visitors testing their powers in feats of strength, by which process the ladies are occasionally rather roughly placed upon the tables. We saw one voung crea- ture, ofthe name oflittle Mary, on Tuesday afternoon last," placed upon the tap- room table by Robert, the waiter, in a most extra- ordinary position; she did not, however, appear to be much discon- certed, taking the thing very good- temperedly. Robert appears to be quite a favourite with the ladies here, and came out immense on Monday night, at a ball at Chelsea, in the dress of Don Juan, ( this is a fact beyond disputation.) Therewas a very merry scene in the bagatelle- room, on Tuesday morning, some of the couples enjoying themselves most happily on the bagatelle- table. We purpose paying a visit to the Wednesday- evening free- and- easy, as we are told the songs are of a most moral description. The Landslip at East End, A man about town is rather a comprehensive phrase, capable of many subdivisions. There's your man about town, who is known is a thorough- paced Greek— up to everything, ready to take ad- vantage of the unwary, living upon the results of his past expe- rience. He is generally well, though more freqaently over- dressed. His shirt- studs are the finest brilliants, his watch the flattest hori- zontal, his guard the purest, gold, his cane of the most costly de- scription, and his cab and turn- out, barring some slight degree of flashness, gentlemanly equipages. Then there is your broken- down, dissolute, poor devil of a Jeremy Diddler, scheming, dinner- hunting, shilling- borrowing, billiard, and cribbage petty picker- up of small flats, man about town. He has certainly seen better days— upon the old principle, that it is impossible for him to have seen worse. Ilis gossamer is brushed to the last point, and shows the seam where it was first formed upon the hatter's block. His coat is one of some two years' standing— one that has submitted to the buffets of time, and the cuffings and collarings of necessity. His trousers are tightly strapped over a pair of highlows, patched on the side, and polished to the last point; or, it may be, they ascend from a pair of cloth- boots with drab tops, and double- soled bottoms. He generally sports a black ribbon, or very small and finely- wrought would- be watch- guard, the end submerged in his pocket, being a sort of false pretence to the possession of what has long since passed into other hands; a pair of Berlin gloves, or thrice- cleaned kid, reek- ing with the smell of the turpentine used in their ablution, together with a small eane, complete his external equipments. He is usually of an accommodating temper, and always open to invito to break- fast, luncheon, dinner, tea or supper. The first man about town is the leech of the craft, the great blood- sucker of the simple ; the second is the horse- fly of society, stinging and sipping with annoying frequency; the third is the Young Man about Town, the immediate object of our present sketch. He is generally a gentleman by birth, and ought to be one by education; but it frequently happens, the vices of the public school, at which he has been brought up, are the only things cultivated in the congenial soil of his disposition. His first great acquirement is the happy perfection of expressing himself iu the most acknowledged slang of the day; such metaphorical phrases being a perfect treat to the fancy, amongst the most distinguished members of which the young man may be found, offering himself, a second gold calf, up to their worship. The Champagne he pays for, in their opinion, gives pun- gency to his wit, and the most vapid sallies call forth the loudest meed of praise, while the process of purse- emptying keeps pace with the aspirant's flashes of merriment. These associations naturally induce him to become something more than an admirer, a friend and backer of his pugilistic companions, under whose instruction the young man about town frequently becomes an awkward cus- tomer. And here we will recount an anecdote of a personal friend of our's, one who, in the slang of the day, was a reg'lar good ' un. We had often shared his dangers, aud never found him wanting; but, on the occasion to which we allude, we were almost thunder- struck at the conduct he pursued. We were attacked and hustled off the pavement, in a most unceremonious manner, by a couple of regular " roughs." The place where this occurred was Drury- lane. An expostulation commenced, and a crowd assembled. There were no policemen in sight, and some philanthrophic individuals formed a ring, and volunteered to see fair play. So far so good. Our own individual adversary declined any passage of arms with ourself. Slight murmurs arose from the good- natured crowd, which were soon stifled by the opponent of our friend asserting his intense anx- iety to punch his ( our friend's) head, a declaration no sooner made than acted on, as lie instantly delivered a terrific left- handed facer under our friend's left eye. " Now for it.," thought we, and " go it little ' un!" shouted the mob; but fancy our horror, when, instead of returning the compliment, our esteemed friend did nothing but hop out of the way, and hold his hat tight on with both hands. " What the devil are you at?" exclaimed we ; and " aint he a pre- cious cripple," groaned the mob. Still did his persevering opponent hop round our devoted friend, and still did he stick to his cursed hat. We had lost sight of him for three months, and wondered what he had done with his pluck and science. At length a desperate blowdislodged the chapeau Francais, and then the murder was out, for away went with it as fine a wig as eyes could desire to look at. We saw, and so did the mob, the cause of our friend's extraordinary conduct, for no sooner was the expose made, and before the laugh was half over, he had polished the before " bumptious" gentleman off in such style, as the Yankees say, " was a caution to look at." Many an inward chuckle have we indulged in since then, when we have thought upon the adventure, while gazing on our friend's " Truefit," in the omnibus box, which latter receptacle for the young men about town brings us once more to our subject, as, should he be of any mark and likelihood, that will be one of his most cherished nightly haunts; here he can enjoy a. comfortable conversation during the performance of the best music by the first artistes in the world, and gaze, in silent wonder, at the sylph- like agility of the seemingly fairy beings who give such a charm to the exquisitely- appointed ballet. The fashion- able " blackguard" is here thrown aside, displaying the plainly- cut and exquisitely- built dress coat; while the " mufflers" of the P. R. profession abdicate in favour of the most approved Parisian lemon- coloured kids. A stroll to the private boxes occupied by his friends, the pleasure of seeing " everybody," and being one of that same " everybody" who grace the opera on a full night, soon became the chief inducements for these constant attendances. Between the acts, the young man abont town, having the entr'ee behind the scenes, leaves his box, and proceeds there to " waste his tediousness" upon some of the less important persons con- nected with the establishment; here he may usually be found making insipid remarks and lackadaisical comments upon such portions of the performance as ho happens to know anything about, or, perhaps, letting off a vapid compliment in nervous French, or very undecided Italian, drawling out his words like so many mangled boa- constrictors. Such is the avocation of the young man about town. His mornings are generally devoted to a drive to Tattersall's; a lounge about the yard ; some small dabbling in book- making for the next Derby ; a stroll down Regent- street ; a look in at his club; the consumption of a quarter of a peck of dust in the park, where he may be observed, on his thorough- bred, curvetting and cantering up and down Rotton- row, one eye carefully glazed with a small tortoiseshell- bound excuse for wilful blindness, or puppyish impertinence. In the present time there is little to distinguish one man from another, so much do the dresses and habits of a certain clique assimilate; and, thank goodness, the vile mania which formerly led to the servile copying of the attire of the stage- coachmen, and blackguards of every grade, is now quite extinct, though there are yet some " crack waggoners" and " swell drags- men extant. As a means of increasing the rapid circulation of the current coin of the country, nothing can exceed the passion for horses and charioteering. " Set a beggar on horseback, and he will ride to" the rest of the sentence we will suppose to be elegantly understood; but, it too often happens that many a gentleman has, in the first instanco, from his love of horseflesh, me the beggar, who reaches the before- omitted unwelcome goal. Handling the ribbons is an expensive and seductive accomplish- ment but still it conduces to health, and the probable amount of outlay may be calculated, so that the driver need not be looked upon as a certain " workman" on the road to ruin. There are other and far worse descriptions of a four- in- hand than any that ever yet heard the rattle of a splinter bar, or winced beseath the smart from the well- applied silk. One bad companion, one of our first cards and " working box," is a stronger " pull" to destruction than four of the hardest- mouthed brutes that ever bolted with the bits between their teeth, aud a week's rest in their heels. Let the young man about town avoid private play as " faithfully as he de- nies the devil;" the whole system is one in which all opponents now try to get the best, even among friends, and the bare idea of sitting down with a stranger, and staking one's money against a fellow who can cut and hold whatever he pleases, or make certain of securing, and throwing the precise main or number be happens to want, is worse than " midsummer madness." Play is the epi- demic which attacks and carries off more young men about town than all the other vices and follies conjoined. We are not much given to moralise, but let any of our readers who were acquainted with the members of what was " the certain set" some years ago, try to find them now, and, in every instance where they are still living, but lost to everything but life, gambling will be found the great cause of their ruin. We have seen, in a course of a few years, the man who had squandered his fortune at the gaming- table, the subservient tool ot the half- bred rascals who had ruined him, painfully ready to laugh at their coarse impertinence, and wretchedly dependant on their ill- regulated tempers for the disre- putable subsistence gained as decoys to their tables ; and among these we have noted some who have shone stars of brilliancy among the elite of their day, and been looked up to a6 paragons amid the hosts of men of mould and mettle. Hottccs fo ffiomspontients. MB. FISHER, tlio Theatrical Asent, Bow- street— It is with sincere regret we have heard of the dreadful affliction that has fallen upon the above much respected young man— he being confined with that direful malady, the small- pox. We only allude to the circumstance to suggest, that it would only exhibit a true mark of deserved sympathy on thepart of the numerous members of the profession, who daily visit Lacey's, were they to combine in get- ting up a benefit for him. We know not if such a proposition has yet been made; we, however, do it from a feeling that Mr. Fisher's general conduct has rendered him deserving of 6uch an effort. The profession can, and what is more, they ought to doit, for, doubtless, underthe present circumstances, it would be acceptable. F— r. ( Graraeml).— Not in poetry- but prose. Do you mean Tom Moss, of the Daily News ? Send the copy by Monday night. A Fine Treat for a Husband," " What is the matter with Jack Kenrison," and " Winder, of the Mogul's Defiance of the Law," in our next number. " J LARRY."— Where's the joke? it can't be " taken." " L. R. U."— You shall always be attended to; but don't versify; put it in prose. Send the " Cock- and- Hen" article by Tuesday. A GENT.— Our friend, Widdicombe says, he remembers one of the Irish labourers employed at the building of the Tower of Babel, telling both your jokes to a California!! Dustman. However, try again. J. M. ( Britannia Saloon) informs us, that Lane is fearfully annoyed at our joke last week of four letters, at being told, in fact, by inuendo, that he was out of luck! and surely everybody knows, since Dibdin Pitt has ceased to be connected with his establishment, with all his struggles, he cannot find it. J. M. adds, " Some miscreants, connected with Mr. L.' s establishment, have formed improper conclusions as to the word;" are we, however, to be answerable for their vile suppositions? certainly not; better would it be for Mr. Lane, if lie has any regard for the respectability of his place,' notto have such people about him. TIIE WITNESS HOWE.— The correspondent who wrote to us last week, is in- formed, that it was " The Wheatsheaf," Hand- court.— Howe did frequent- ly visit the Garrick's Head, and was often with the man they called Small, when he was one of the counsel there; he wore a pea- jacket, a cab- man's looking hat, had a very red face, and represented himself as a great swimmer and rower. Moncrieff's, however, was his strong hold. " FIBHARD " is having a lark with THE TOWN. Where have you got to, old fellow? we thought we had complied with your wishes. D. G. B. ( Stockton- on- Tees).— Don't make yourself a fool, my dear boy. The story is as old as the hills. Jack's wife is living with the half- pay officer, and Jack is allowed a guinea a week so you see, old cock, we don't care a -— for actions; the parties would lose more by the public, exposure, than the TOWN. " The Cock- and- Hen Club," and " London Procuresses" articles must stand over till our next. H. R. * * * * Y. ( Liverpool).— The subject we know has created a great sensation in Williamson- square, but it would be cruel even to suppose it would injure Jem Ward. All who know Jem must respect and wish him well. H. It. will understand us, then, when we say, keep the matter as quiet as possible. " AN ADMIRER " ( Sloane- street).— There is no difficulty about seeing the Editor of tlie TOWN, if what you say is correct. 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. TO ADVERTISERS: Advertisements not exceeding 10 lines, single insertion,.. 4 0 Every additional line, .. .. 0 3 A liberal allowance on several insertions. All advertisements must be sent to the Office on Thursday at the latest. H TIT- BITS FOR GENTLEMEN. EIGHT SPICY PLATES, a la Frangaise, One Shilling Post- paid, Is. 6d. SPICE NUTS, a charming collection of delicious pictures for Bachelors' parties, 1 » .; post- 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. W. JOHNS, 35, Holywell- street, Strand. JOST PUBLISHED, Eleventh Edition, Price 3d., or post- free for four stamps, TEN SECRETS FOR GENTS, concerning a universal but most perp'exing Article of Dress, contain- ing full instructions for its satisfactory arrangement, with appro- priate Diagrams, and upwards of thirty Illustrations. Also, price One Shilling, or post free, for eighteen postage stamps, AVOLUME OF SECRETS on the Art of Dress, including a Dissertation upon every Article and Style of Attire, with full Practical Directions. Price Sixpence, THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF SONG. Containing Two Hundred aud Fifty of all the most popular Songs and Recitations. Price One Shilling, or post free for Sixteen Stamps, 0 W TO GET M 0 N E Y ; or, Six Ways of Making a Fortune. Now Publishing, a most extraordinary work, complete, price One Penny, entitled NATURE'S WONDERS. Containing a full account of some of the most wonderful Monstrosities of Nature, & c. & c. London, S. COLLINGS, 39, Holywell- street. Works Published by W. WINN, Holy well- street. STARTLING PROPOSAL. THE CREATION OF WEALTH, OR LABOUR'S TRI- UMHANT; being a practical plan for an EMIGRATION AND HOME COLONIZATION LEAGUE, by which a family may emi- grate to America, and have a free passage and a fruitful farm for six POUNDS; whilst for nearly every family thus emigrating, an other maybe established, GRATIS, on a ten- acre farm in Britain.— See THE REFORMER, weekly periodical, price Twopence. THE ENCHANTED KNIGHTS, or the Tale of the Three Sisters, translated from the celebrated German Author, Musacus. Price 6d., post free, for 12 stamps. Complete for One Penny. THE HORRORS OF EMIGRATION, or the miseries, priva tions, and dangers endured iu a strange country; murders and robberies, by the natives— fearful shipwrecks from rotten ships, & c., & c., exposure of agents of emigration societies. TERRIFIC RECORD. One Penny, Weekly. INTERESTING HEADING FOR ALL.— ALL FACTS. Nos. 1 to 11 now ready, and may bo had of any bookseller in the kingdom. This is the largest and best Publication of the kind; contains Thirty- two closely printed columns, splendidly Illustrated. CAUTION.— This being larger than any publication of the sorf, some few venders or publishers of small, paltry publications have answered it, " Not out," or " Out of Print." This is false; as every number is kept in print, being stereotyped. Published by VV. WINN, 34, Holywell- street, Strand; and all Booksellers. Printed and published for the Proprietors by W. WINN, Holywell- streef, Strand, where all communications are to be addressed. To be had of aU booksellevs. i
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