P U B L I S H ED WE E K L Y. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. J'aeli pari viil be sent. - Iwc. f, r. j » r ro: p » < f 18 Post ago Stamps. For- remote parts, Single Copies may 1 o sent direct from the Office, for Two Postage Stamps. " WHAT DO YOU RJ " WHY, I THINK I A CHAPTER ON BATHING, BATHERS, AND BATH- KEEPERS. WE havo Heard a vast deal about baths and wash- houses for tho people, but this week our artist has given us tlie true Bath of Beauty— yes, we repeat the true bath of beauty, pure and unadul- terated. A duck in tho summer season is ever a luxury, but Ju re we behold a pair of ducks emulating each other in beauty of appearance. But a truce to bantering; bathing is a line healthy old English exercise— of late years, thanks to sanitory move- ments, carried out to a vast extent. At this season of the year, however, our coast is invaded with both sexes, who delight in this healthful recreation, ( if wc may so apply the term,) and the various lodging- house keepers at tho bathing- places reap an immense harvest. Margate was at one time tho lion of these placos, but cheap steamers have been the ruin of this onco favourite washing nud purifying region, and fashion has voted it low. Brighton has rtl.- o materially decreased in tho aristocratic character of its pa- trons, owing, in a great measure, to the absence of Royalty. Heme Buy is now the ruling favourite, and we think not undeservedly so. The views from any point are most beautiful, es- pecially those of the sea, whilst the scenery on land is as as lovely as the air is pure and invigorating. The baths are, undoubtedly, tho most superb in the three kingdoms. Bathing, however, is not patronised in this country by ihe aristocracy to the extent it was formerly, there is too much jostling and rubbing against the greasy citizens, and your exquisite now cleanses his metropolitan impurities in the waters of Boulogne or other continental streams. There aro, however, occasionally, other reasons, of even a more pressing character, that render the nir of Boulogne preferable;— but of that another time. In various parts of Great Britain, there are spots which are called slow watering- places, in contradiction to tho localities visited by tho fast- going people of the present day. Blackpool, Southend, Hastings, Moffat ( Scotland), Broadstairs, and Worth- ing come uuder this denomination and dowager invalids, and II1NK OF THIS SUSAN?" LIKE CHARLEY'S MACHINE BETTER THAN staid religious people, do their annual dipping usually here. Dover was, at one time, in great vogue, but has of late fallen into disrepute, principally on the account of the proximity of the men's, machines and the railway; which is highly objectionable to females, as they do not. like all their movements observed. Our fair bathers in the present engraving seemed imbued with the same feeling, for they have removed themselves to a distunes from the usual bathing- place, and are doing tho extreme quiet. In unsettled weather, especially at Dover, the women's ma- chines are apt to get too near the men's, aud then very unplea- sant rencounters take place. By- the- bye, these michine keepers earn a very tidy living in the season; for, although they nomi- nally exist upon lending certain queer- looking articles of flftn- nelley compilation to the women, to prevent the blessed poste- riors of the latter touching the bottom of the sea, they have other dodges, such as earning little tizzeys, and stray Bobs, for conveying three- cornered notes from swells in rowing- shirts with moustachios and very large pins, to little ladies that, will always stay behind mamma just for a minute to arrange their hair and strings. Some years since great, scandal was brought upon the town of Scarborough, by a man being found hid in one of the women's machines; he turned out to be a certain Ensign P and had dressed himself in women's apparel for the purpose of obtaining an interview with the daughter of Sir George B y, whom ho afterwards ran away with and married. There is a story told that George the Fourth, for a lark, once attempted the same thing, but was bowled out by old Martha Gun, the once celebrated machine- woman of Brighton. Some women have been very celebrated for their piscatorial powers; the late Mother Emmerson was a clipper at, it, and turned up her nose at, ma- chines; she liked a good plungeing board, or a lea)) from the bow of a boat, at sunrise. Jenny Adams ( at Jessop's) is a very good swimmer, and long Lizz ( the fast girl) with Mary Spencer, Fair Maria, and a certain actress, at the New Strand, often in- dulge on Sunday in a pond at Mrs. Cormack's, ? t. Twickenham. But we fe. tr wo are going toy fur in exposing tl: c doings cf these — > 1 H ' ! Hi if\' J THE OPEN AIR." fair ones, so we will now break off with a few lines to the heroines of our engraving :— Pretty ducks, pray take your dipping, No prying eye you here can meet, Your charms, that melt us whilst you're dripping, Prove you enjoy a watery treat. At watering cribs you seem in clover, lie it Margate or Heme Bay, All except that dreadful Dover, Where men's machines so near you lay. Lady on tho sand- bank seated, We pray thee, at us do not pout ; Is the dose to be repeated, Take another " cold without." P'rhaps you could not choose a site Suited for your watery sprees, Belter than the Isle of Wight, Where you may bathe and wash at ease. ™ There are nooks so unfrequented, That both male and female souls May become as close cemented As a brace of penny rolls. Not an eye to watch your blisses. None to hear those sighs so sad, None to interrupt sweet kisses None to tell the " cross old dad." We have known such little matters Practised at these bathing spots, But as our muse it seldom flatters, We'd call them dear " forget- me- nots." L idy, in the pure stream laving, Beauteous, playful water rover, May I be your pardon craving - « If 1 say you're " half seas over." THE TOWN. S TALES OF LONDON LIFE. MHS. LORIMER SPINKS; OR, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. ( Continued.) In the large, and splendidly furnished apartment of one of the noble houses in Woburn- place, about nine days after the events already recorded, were congregated the principal characters already introduced in the course " of this tale ; consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Spinks, Miss Babbington, Clara Johnson, and the family physician. The cause of the attendance of three out of the number was the anticipated momentary dissolution of Mr. Bahbington, who lay stretched upon the sofa listening to the phy- sician. The reason, however, of the presence of Mrs. Spinks proceeded from anything but a consolatory motive, for her eye flashed with resentment and her breast heaved with passion. Prior, however, to our putting our readers in possession of the cause of this appearance in the apartment, we will introduce him to a small antechamber adjoining. In this room there were two men, the one aged, the other juvenile; the latter was Andrew Diwkings, and the former Mr. Darcie, the joint trustee with Bab- binuton to the Rodwell Restate; and whose son, secretly af- fianced to Miss B- ibbington, had, as described in Chapter 14, at- tempted to commit suicide. The two persons had, apparently, but just returned from some business, for as Andrew was about to enter the inner room, Mr. Da: cie stopped him. " You will be careful to mention nothing of this matter to Mr Bahbington," he said, " for in his state it may only accelerate his deeth, which is certain to take place in a few hours. I am fear- ful that this trial may bring his name before the public, and in- jure the character of the unfortunate young lady, his daughter. Besides," he added, " Mr. Rodwell, for such I now must call you, tire name going with the estate ; if you are satisfied to forgive Mr. Babb'ngton his indiscretions, and forget the losses, there can be no purpose served in exposing him ; at the same time, I think you are correct in assisting to punish the miscreants who have committed this last outrage upon your property, now that they are in your power.'' " I shall take your advice, my good sir," answered Andrew ; " there are many circumstances which induce me to forgive Mr. Ba'ibington ; any exposure of him, might invoke unpleasant in- quiries relative to my sister." " You allude to Mrs. Spinks," said Darcie, quickly," she is a strange lady, a very stratiue lady." " Her conduct is strangely altered within the last few days," he replied, with a sigh ; " it is painful to speak ill of an only sister, an only relation ; especially after so many years of absence; but really at times her manner is beyond all endurance. Since the funeral of Gascoigne she appears at times delirious.'' " There were some strange revelations made at the inquest upon the body of that young man," repli. d Mr. Darcie, " ftat excited in me much surprise. I have been a lawyer many years, many years connected with, and I hope I may say held as a friend to the Rodwell family, at least your grandfathe- deemed me so ; and it pained me to hear the statements made before the coroner; one ot the witnesses truly said she was " A married lady that had been a little too gay.'" " I know to what you allude," answered Edward, sorrowfully ; " but tell me how am I to prevent it ? It was but yesterday that she grossly insulted my intended bride, Clara, whose story you are already acquainted with." " Yes, yes," replied Darcie, " and your conduct in that par- ticular alone would for ever make me your friend. You was asking me, however, for advice relative to the conduct of your JL As he uttered these words a female voice was heard to exclaim : —" Silence, infamous woman ; whatever may have been my father's faults, his dying moments shall not be rendered miserable by a wretch like thee. James— Mary, let some one fetch a a policeman." These expressions were accompanied by her open- ing the door, and at the same instant, Andrew and Mr. Darcie entered the room. There was a pause of a moment; every one appearing astonished at the sudden appearance of the lawyer. The scene which presented itself to their view was indeed a singular one; all the party were in deep mourning, Mrs. Spinks rendering herself conspicuous from the rest by a mass of jewellry, which she wore upon her bosom, head, and hands. Mr. Babbington was upon the sofa, supported by Clara and a sirvant, and from his appear- ance had but a short time to live. Mrs. Spinks, pacing the ap- artment in great perturbation, regardless of the intercessions of the medical gentleman and Clara; whilst old Spinlis divided his at- tention between sucking an orange, and running about imploring Miss Babbington not to take any notice of what his Margaret had said. " What is the meaning of this noise, Miss Babbington, in the chamber of your sick father ?" enquired Mr. Darcie, looking calmly round him. " Mr. Briggs," he continued, addressing the medical gentleman, " why is this." Mr. Briggs and Miss Babbinaton were about to answer, when Mrs. Spinks thrust herself before them, and, with a violent gesticulation, declared that she had been insulted by the daughter of a man, who, for years had robbed both her and her family. " I mean," she a'lded, " Miss Babbington and her father." " You are mistaken, madame," said the doctor, mildly inter- rupting ; " your conduct is uncalled for; you must really leave this apartment. My duty to my patient—" " I care not," thundered Mrs. Spinks, " for you or your patient — he who but for my brother's folly, would be in a jail." " Unfeeling woman," exclaimed Miss Babbington, " lost to every sense of shame and pity. Mr. Rodwell," she added, " do you sanction this conduct?" " I do not," answered Andrew firmly, and for the first time breaking silence. " These proceedings, no matter from what cause they arise, are infamous. Mr. Babbinnton," he continued advancing to the couch, " I am sorry for this quarrel but am as ignorant of the particulars, as I am innocent of the cause." Babbington essayed to speak, but the effort was too much for him. Mrs.- Spiuks, however, took up the conversation; for a moment she had appeared daunted by the manner of her brother. " What ?" she exclaimed, " do you side with them, Andrew ? I amasliamedof you." " Silence," answered Edward ; " silence, I command you." " You command me, you;" replied Mrs. Spinks, with a con- temptuous toss of her head. " Aud who are you, pray? A de- generate brother, who suffers his family to be robbed, and their name disgraced." " Peace," continued Andrew ; " it is you who disgrace our name by your actions. Spinks, why do you not compel my sister to be quiet?" Spinks, who had commenced another orange, here stepped up to his wife, and was, apparently, about to make some remark, but she waved him off, exclaiming— " I will be heard, and will not permit my property to be plundered away for all the love matches in the kingdom. It is only to- day that I have heard from good authority, that many thousands have been swindled from me and mine." A low groan from Babhington interrupted her, but ere she could proceed farther Mr. Darcie advanced to her— " What right have you to interfere with the property of me and my children ? You are a lawyer, and one of the trustees." " I must first be made certain that the property is yours," he exclaimed, coolly. " What do you mean ?" exclaimed Mrs. Spinks; " am I not the heiress ?" " No ;" answered Darcie, in the same firm tone of voice. Your sister— I will give it you. Listen. The thought of the immense : brother is now heir- at- law if there is a will found your share of property which, conjointly with you, she believes she ha » become the Property is but a small one ; aud if it entitled you to the entitled" to, has deranued her intellect. Already I am informed whol,'> Permlt me t0 observe, that your conduct is anything but by persons about this establishment she has received estimates becoming at the present moment, from upholsterers, paper- hangers, furnishing warehousemen, and china- dealers, for a building that must have £ 30,000 a- year to support it, and her bills for dresses, odd looking china ornaments, jewellery, old fashioned pieces of furniture, and daubs of paint- ings, nearly reach eight hundred pounds. This is without pre- sents she has given away. Each morning the door has been thronged with tradesmen anxiously waiting with the patterns of some new frivolity to tempt her for orders." " Why have you not told me this before," exclaimed the young man ; " the estate cannot pay for such extravagancies, even if we are suceesssful in obtaining immediate possession." " There can be 110 doubt upon that point," said Mr. Darcie, " there is no one to oppose the claim, even if the will should not be found. Mysi If and Mr. Babbington acknowledge you as the heir; there is still another consideration, the estate, when unencum- bered, yields not more than twelve thousand pounds clear return, but. now I fear me there are many liabilities upon it, which you will do well to reflect upon. It were well also for your sister to remember that in the event of the Will being found, there is Just the probability that it leaves her but a small jointure, whilst the whole bulk of the propei ty comes to you; and should this Will not be forthcoming, I shall place you in a position to ad- minister to the estate, and then her chances of paying the vast demands which will be made upon her, are but problematical, for I presume you will not be so absurd as to be answerable for such unnecessary debts." Young Rodwell made no answer, but continued to pace the apartment for some minutes buried in thought; at length he broke the silence by observing, " this must be communicated to her. I was thinking that it is 6trange nothing has yet been heard of Varden, or the man tfcey call Slasher, Varden must ere this have learned from the public papers the particulars of the robbery at Rodwell Hall, the committal for trial of Shadrach, as a receiver, and the two men, Baker and Charley ; the same papers also contain the inquest upon Gascoigne; it is strange he has not made his appearance." " Not at all strange," said Darcie. " Varden is a deep villain, and has some dark design of his own to serve, in thus absenting himself. He knows many of the secrets of Mr. Babbington ; he also fears, probably, that he may run some danger at present if seen in public, as you shall hear. The police, who have been anything but idle, traced the Slasher to his mother's but arrived just after he had left. They found his mother a corpse, she having been dead a few minutes, and the medical man declared her death proceeded from the bursting of an artery, caused through violent excitement. It afterwards appeared from the information that I could gather, that a man of the name of Varden had last been with Mrs. Saunders, and that the Slasher had left the house swearing deadly revenge, and declaring that Va'den had been the murderer of his mother. From the de- scription, I have no doubt that this Varden is the villain who has so long been connected with Babbington." " It is the same,'' replied Andrew, " I know it from my sister's story. He has, doubtless, fallen a prey to the fury of young Saunders." " It is more than probable," continued the lawyer, " for neither have since been heard of." Andrew was about to answer when he was startled by the sound of persons as if in high debate, followed by low groaning ; and then a female voice was heard in deep anger. " Good heavens," exclaimed Andrew; " what can be the mean- ing of this d. sturbance ? Surely it comes from this room in which ' Mr. Babbington is lying." " Hush," answered Darcie; " we will listen— hark; that is a woman's voice— it is Miss Babbington; and now there is another — it is Mrs. Spinks,—- they are m& vrelling." The observations of the lawyer for a moment completely staggered Mrs. Spitiks ; she looked paralysed, and, so sudden was the shock, that she had no means of concealing it. All her hopes of fortune were, in a moment, melted into insignificance; for any- thing less than a carriage, and herself one of the highest ladies in the county had not entered her imagination. Indeed, in the state of her mind, a few hours previous, anything less would have been scorned. " It is an infamous falsehood," exclaimed Mrs. Spinks, recover- ing herself," got up for the purpose of defrauding me of my rights. Who is there who dare say I am nof the grand daughter of Sir Andrew Rowland, and as such, have a claim to a fair share of the property ?" " I do," said a voice from the end of the room. " You have no claim." All turned with astonishment to the sofa, where they beheld Babbington struggling violently to release himself from the hands of Clara and the servant, and eudeavouring to rise from the bed. " How dare you utter so vile a slander?" exclaimed Mrs. Spinks. " Remove this woman," said the physician; " this excitement will be the death of Mr. Babbington." The whole party seized Mrs. Spinks, and endeavoured to force her from the room. " Let her remain," ejaculated Babbington, " let me speak the truth whilst I have yet power, and let her hear my words. She has no claim to the estate ; she was not born in wedlock ; Andrew is the only legitimate heir." As he uttered these words he gave a deep sigh ; there was a slight tremor of the frame, the eye be- came dilated, the hands nervously grasped at space, and the next instant Jonathan Babbington was lifeless clay. ( To bo continued.) & WHY DON'T YOU GET MARRIED? OR THE FIRST BOTTLE OP SOYER'S NECTAR. ( Concluded from No. 15.) CHAPTER III. " How can you talk so my dear Tolley," said a female voice in reply, " didn't you go up stairs a little while ago to - onvinee yourself?" " Yes I did," answered Mr. Tolleyslack with a shudder. " And I hope you was satisfied," continued the lady. Mr Tolleyslack made no answer, for he thought of the cleansing his eyelids had received from Mrs. Major Bugsfug's syringe ; his wife felt hurt at his conduct, and Aminadab, with surprise, heard her observe somewhat tartly— " Well, Mr. Tolleyslack, you need not be so glum about the French fellow, as you call him; you were glad enough to drink the stuff he sent in the bottles." Aminadab felt this alluded to the dozen of Soyer's Nectar which he had sent as a present to the thin woman; his conster- nation was, however, considerable, when he heard Mr. Tolley slack reply that he hoped she would not say anything about it, for the stuff had given him such awful pain in the bowels that he should be obliged to retire for a few minutes. The horror of Aminadab increased, for Tolleyslack was evidently getting out of bed, and now he heard him striking a light. " I sent old mother Damnable up stairs four bottles of the Nectar," he said, " I wonder if it served her out like it has me. If that French fellow really did mean this stuff for her, it's a nice present; I don't think it's pulling me about as if I'd got the cholera. If, however, I catch that fellow in this house again, I'll chance the consequences, for I'll run our Poll's long spit slap into the vagabond's innerd's." Neversweat's position was now, indeed, a horrible one; he tried to fasten the door of the cabinet, but there was no bolt- In the agony of despair he would have fain descended the dismal orifice over which he was sitting, and escaped by the sewers, but it was a water- closet, and consequently too small to permit of his intention. " Take the poker with yon, duckey," said the female voice from the parlour. " I thought I heard somebody creeping about the passage." The sound of Tolleyslacks' foot struck upon the ear of Never- sweat— he was in agony— the steps approached, and the little fat man attired only in a short night- shirt, with a rushlight in his hand, opened the door of the scented apartment. There was Aminadab Neversweat sitting upon the only seat in the place, with his Wellington boot grasped firmly in his hand. Tolleyslack gave a shriek and rushed back to the parlour, in an instant he returned armed with a large old- fashioned poker, and commenped an attack upon Mr. Aminadab Neversweat; one minute more would have, no doubt, decided the earthly existence of our hero, had not Tolleyslack recognised him as the French visitor of the earlier portion of the day. He was paralysed. " Great heavens," he ejaculated, " can it be possible. Oh, Susan, Susan, you have indeed deceived me ; but no, I'll not ex- pose myself— I'll not alarm the house— go your way young man, though I'm injured, I'm determined the world shan't know it." " Let me explain; pray, pvay, let me explain ; I assure you, you are labouring under a fearful mistake," exclaimed Aminadab, dragging the obnoxious boot after him. " No mistake— no mistake," thundered the jealous, excited husband, " there can be no mistake, attempt at explanation w useles, fly this chamber ere I do something I may be sorry for." The fat man appeared to shake from some inward emotion, and the short- tailed linen garment fluttered in the wind. A violent spasmodic effort for a moment appeared to relieve him. " Villain," continued the abbreviated shirt, " it is your accursed stuff has done this ; call it Nectar drink for gods, its playing the very devil with my innards." " Believe me, sir," continued Arriinahab, " the dozen of Nectar, was intended for the lady on the first floor, and also the note which so strangely fell into your hand. Let me proceed to her apartment whilst you attend to your business here, and all will be well." Tolleyslack, probably believed him; he felt, however, that the moments were precious, that his business was of a most pressing character, still he determined to play Aminadab a trick, in return for fhe pain he had created in his mind and bowels. " Of course you know the room she sleeps in," he inquired. " Not exactly, but I suppose the first floor back," was the answer. " Oh, dear, no," replied the fat man, becomingly suddenly con- descendingly communicative, " if you went there you'd make a terrible mistake, ' tis the second floor front; mind you don't go into the first floor back, for an engineer and his wife sleeps ther « — good night— I'm glad the affair's explained," and with these words he vanished into the perfumed temple. Aminadab Neversweat, believing he was all right, crawled up stairs incontinently cursing his tight boot until he reached the second landing, here he opened the door, and at onoe entered * lofty, but dark bed- room. " Jerry," said a female voice, anything but like that of the in- teresting Mrs. Bugfug, " Jerry, is that you and be d d to yon you're never here when you're wanted ; here's that old bunter down stairs, as calls herself a Major's wife, has had a fellow with her all night. I was wishing for you to come to kick him out, but never mind, now he's gone, so come to bed at once, for I'm fearfully cold." " Here's a pretty go," muttered Aminadab, " in the wrong box again; but never mind, any port in a storm, so here goes," and undressing himself got quietly into bed to thin woman— the laud- lady— for her it really was. The sequel of the story is soon told, Julia had contrived to in- veigle the old Earl of M , to her house, for she had disco- vered in him, the father of the man who had seduced her. Her seducer being the husband of the lady that she had seen in the carriage, and Iter tears were occasioned by the death of a near re lative to whose house she was hastening. Julia found in the Earl a warm friend, and although she has removed fhe sphere of her lo- cation, she still continues to keep a cigar- shop, and puzzles many, Why dont she get married ? With respect to Aminadab, in the morning the landlady discovered that he was not the right man; but Aminadab had performed Jerry's duties so well that he was forthwith forbad the house. Mrs. Major Bugsfug " shot the moon," the next night, taking with her in the hurry of business, the candlestick, and some of the bed- linen, for which she had to ac- count some weeks after at the police court. About the same lime thejealous mind of the fat man was made easy by seeing Aminadab united to the thin woman, who has continued ever since to de- clare that she shall never forget the first night, when in place of Jerry she took " The First Bottle of Soyer's Nectar." WE left Aminadab apparently in the act of bidding Mrs. Major Bugsfug a farewell for the evening. The door was closed with an immense slam, and the thin woman imagined that Never- sweat, to quote the classic diction of Mrs. Bugsfug, had " ampu- tated his stick for the night." " I'll hook it up stairs," said the polite creature," and will leave you to shift for yourself for a short time." Aminadab found she intended to keep her word, as the inte- resting lady almost immediately vaulted up stairs. " Where the blazes is the water- closet," muttered our hero " If I can but find that out, I can sneak in'there for a few minutes." He proceeded down the passage, and in due course discovered the establishment, the object of his solicitude. " I'll take off my boots," he continued, " and then I shall be able to sneak up stairs." In this resolve, however, he was deceived, for having taken off one boot, he found the other so immensely tight, that it would not pass an inch over his instep, and he found himself in the awkward position, that he could not get it either 011 or off The proximity of his present abode to the parlour where the man in the red wig resided, enabled him to overhear every word. " Im confident," said the voice in the red wig, " that that French vagabond came after you to- day, Susan," Old B—, the pork- butcher, of Walworth, has lately married the notorious Margaret Keats, who, some years since, was tried and'suffered four years imprisonment, for robbing tho Marquis of E——, of his watch, at a house in King's- place, St. James's. Old B met young Charley H -, the horse- dealer, at the bar of Harris's, the Equestrian, a few days since, and commenced upbraiding him for having turned his wife adrift. " Well," said Charley, " your age certainly permits you to lecture me; but, you must bear in mind, that I did not marry a common and no- torious strumpet. But when a man makes a virtuous alliance, and afterwards sends his wife away because she has become an. abandoned woman, he is justified— certainly, this is a calamity that can never occur to you." The hog- purveyor cut his stick to his virtuous rib, whom he found busy, sawing some sausage- meat The Lady of Sir J. C. II- had not seen Prince Albert since her visit to London, just prior to his marriage, as lie passed her in one of the state- rooms, she observed to old Lady Jane S " Ah, poor, dear, young man, he looks better than when I last saw him ; he now receives a yearly fortune, so he's, of course, not so much put to the shift." " I don't think that makes any very materia! difference," answered her friend, " for I'm told her Majesty til' cartinues to draw very largely from Albert's nri- vate purse." • THE TOWN. S THE LONDON BLUE- COAT BOY. The Bine- coat Boy is the very beau ideal of hardihood ; in the • winter time he is found parading the streets of the metropolis with, generally speaking, an erect walk and a discrowned head ; he lists Skii the pelting of the pitiless storm, nor the roughness of the sweeping blast ; his muffin cap is seldom in requisition, and when patronised is usually seen dangling in his hand— he practically carries out the advice of a great physician, viz.," the keeping of the head cool and the feet warm." We say it not with any invidions reflection, but it is somewhat remarkable that the only personages who seem enamoured of an unroofed npper story, are Blue- coat boys and butcher- boys. The general dress of the Blue- coat boy is perfectly exceptionable and absurd; it is the nearest approach to the monkish costume ima- ginable. What is called the coat was the ancient tunic ; this is of a dark blue coarse cloth, fitted close to the body, but with loose skirts. The under- coat, or yellow, as it is technically termed, was the sleeveless, or under tunic, of the monastry. The girdle round the waist was likewise a monastic appendage; but the breeches are a subsequent addition. Yellow worsted stockings, a very small round flat cap of black worsted, and a neckband, complete the attire. The appearance of a Blue- coat boy in the height of summer is enough to make the soul perspire, and, indeed, the poor lads must feel at such a season particularly uncomfortable ; the dress, moreover, operates considerably as a drawback to all youthful pas- times, and games of agility ; one can imagine the discomfiture a boy must experience in plajing at such a game as " leap- frog," in such villainous petticoats.. We are not one of those who entertain so religious a regard for ancient customs, or ancient costumes, as to enter a veto against any alteration of this unbecoming and absurd dress ; and arguing upon the principle that the wearing of the natural air is a thing much more ancient than indulging the caput with a big wig, and a dynasty of pomatum ; we can see no just cause or impediment why[ this barbarous dress should not be abrogated, and a more Christian- like attire substituted. The abuses of this noble charity are, doubtless, very great ; the advantages derivable from its magnificent funds, in affording the objects of its care a sound education, and an almost unrestricted dietary, in association with a consummate system of domestic order, cleanliness, and discipline, cause the Institution to be looked upon as an endow- ment of prime importance. In this aspect of its advantages, persons who can command in- fluence, exert it very frequently in behalf of the children of opu- lent individuals not born in wedlock; and, doubtless, in many cases such individuals are admitted ; this is a clear abuse of the charity, and requires a searching investigation ; for it is not to be endured that the offspring of a reckless libertine should he, as it were, palmed upon the funds of an asylum, intended for children of very different description. If our munificent institutions are to be thus abused, a premium is held out to the most vicious and immoral, and the charity becomes rather a curse than a blessing to the community. It is obvious, in taking another view of the origin and intention of this institution, that great and manifold evils into its economy, from the disposal of presentations, which, in the main, has little or no relation to the necessity of the par- ties to be benefited, the presentations are given in a heedless, blindfold, ad caytandum sort of way, purely as matters of favour, the donor taking no pains to ascertain that the object to be served is one coming within the scope of the Founder's intentions; this is already another instance of abuse. These remarks aptly characterise the giving away of presenta- tions, by the various city corporations, who seldom or ever in- quire into the circumstances of the respective applicants, but they rather exert themselves for a particular party, after the manner of an electioneering canvass. The result is usually this, that the least deserving object gains a majority and is elected. Now, this is quite foreign to the letter and spirit of the testator, creating the presentation, and who notified in his will, that the most necessi- tous objects were those he intended to benefit; his trustees, how- ever, in their sagacity, usually reverse his intention, regardless of, and in contravention of their duty; this system is most iniqui- tous, and is characteristic, generally speaking, of the integrity and justness with which the civic corporations manage their affairs, and carry out their trusts. But we are ' monished to a close, and for the present take our leave of Christ's Hospital and the hardy Blue- coat Boy. A QUEER LARK WITH A SOLDIER. ( Continued from No. 17 of Town.) continued; " you'll be wantiug something wawn to your stomach if you stand here much longer; there's such a dreadful draught from the door up the staircase." Poor Sir Boldero Pip 1 he could not answer; he looked up— there, there, stood the bedgown; and, at the top of that bedgown, peeped out a pretty head, whilst at the bottom was an equally pretty foot. As Paul Bedford says to Wright, in the last new farce, it was " a most unwarrantable intrusion," he a married man, too; but then his wife was from home, wouldn't return till the next morning; and then the girl was afraid to go into her own room by herself— she had told him so— she might have a fit, or a thousand different things ; the candle shook in his hand— his hand shook— his legs knocked together— perhaps it was from the cold— poor man, he could'nt tell what it was from— and so- so- he did'nt return to his own room. The next morning Polly was in a magnificent humour; she had a ten- pound Bank of England note tucked in the lining of her stays, and two pound seven shillings and threepence in wages which she had just taken. Polly was in the passage superintend ing the cording of a large deal box, which said box, from its having her baptismal and sponsorial patronymic affixed thereto, it is presumed belonged to her. " I am sorry you are going so suddenly, Polly," said her mistress, as she shook her by the hand, and saw her out of the door. " You have been a good servant, done a great deal ot work, especially while I have been away ; and I'm sorry to part with you. I wish you safe to London." In a few words we will explain all this to the reader% Sir Boldero Pip was a very particular man, and he felt he had grossly committed himself in entering the bed- room of Polly. When, therefore, reflection came, fearful lest he should be betrayed by the bed- gown with its pretty head and tiny feet, he determined to remove the temptation from him. " I'll give you this ten- pound note, Polly, my dear," said be, " if when your mistress comes home at eleven o'clock from her aunt's at Chatham, you go up and give her warning, and say you must leave directly." " Give us the money, master," said Polly, holding out her hand; " I'll say my mother's dying." Polly kept her word, and in a few hours the box which we alluded to above, together with herself, were safely landed at her mother's in Liverandpluck- passage, Whiteehapel. The same evening Swodgers received the following letter :— " MY DEAB JACK,— I is gone to lundun ; yew vill find me at mother's, the secund- and- close shop, Liverandpluck- passage, Whitechapel. O Jack, if hever gal luved chap that luved gal is me, and that hare chap is yew. I think I sees yewer long sord dangling agin yer boots under the harchwav in spite of the vord vich said commit no nuisance; and I thinks I sees yer standin' in yer blew cotton shirt a shiverin'; and I thinks I sees— but never mind what I thinks, but do come and see us or youll brake the heart of, " POLLY SQUEAKS." ( To be continued.) A FUNNY JURYMAN. " And how did your sister get on after she got the soldier out ?" inquired Miss Squeaks' friend. " My sister was in a terrible fright," replied Miss Squeaks, " for Sir Boldero was such a queer old stick, Polly wanted to hide Jack Swodgers, but Jack Swodgers wouldn't have that— so he told her to go down stairs and keep the men talking at the door whilst he got out at the back window and made the best of his, way to the barracks. ( But we must tell the story our own way.) Polly did exactly as she was told, opened the door, and the gi- gantic Duff at once stood before her, accompanied with his privates. " Well, Misther Duff," she inquired, " what do you mean by bringing these soldiers to my master's at this hour ?" Before Cor- poral Duff could answer, the noise made by the soldiers awak- ened Sir Boldero, who hobbled down stairs to inquire what was the matter. " Matter enough," replied the Corporal, " you have got one of our men concealed in your house." " Its a lie," answered Sir Boldero Pip, tartly, " a d— d lie; how dare you come waking people in the middle of the night • with such a cock and bull story." " Its no use putting yourself in a bad temper, old gentleman,' said Duff, " I'm informed Jack Swodgers is up stairs, and I and my men must search." " If that is the case, you may go up yourself," said the old gentleman, " but I object to the men." " He shan't bring his privates into my bed- room, I'm deter- mined," whimpered Polly. Remonstrance, however, was vain, the corporal, with his men, proceeded to search the house, and looked anything but pleasant when he found there was no Bill Swodgers. He knew not what to say, for the baker's man had sworn he had seen the soldier enter by the window. " Well, you're clever fellows, ain't you ?" inquired Sir Boldero, as he bowed the corporal and his men out. " The matter shall not drop here I'm determined ; you'll hear of me in the morning." The matter did not drop here, as the reader will soon learn; for Sir Boldero, as soon as he had slammed the door, had to re- turn upstairs. Now, poor Polly, during the whole time of the perform ances we have been describing, had been standing on the top of the staircase, in her feminine shirt and bedgown. To enter his room, it was inevitably necessary for Sir Boldero to pass this compilation of linen. To what trials and temptations are us poor, frail, weak mortals born, and how frail, how very frail, is the spirit, when perilled by the inducements of the flesh. Polly's master was but a mortal— although a good, religious, moral man ; he was but a man, after all; and, like the rest of his race, he fell by the temptation of a woman. " Ain't you very cold, sir ?" inquired Eliza, as the old man passed her. " Why don't you go into your bed- room, Mary V' said her master, evading her answer. " I'm so frightened," she answered ; " I can't get those privates out of my tight. But I asked you if you was'nt oold, sir," sho IN the far- famed city of Cork, in Ireland, famed for wit, revenge, and blarney, there lives at present an honest, industrious son of Crispin, named Jack Murtagb, who had the misfortune, some years back, to give a certain gentleman, of his acquaintance, credit for the price of a pair of boots. The day of promise past, and months besides, notwithstanding all Jack's applications for the money ; at length, he took law proceedings for the recovery of what he termed his own, and, of course, was paid. Some little time after, the defendant was appointed one of the sheriffs for the city, and took upon himself the greater part of the business con- nected with such an office, and well Jack Murtagh was made to feel the result : not an assizes, Recorder's court, or court of inquiry took place for some months that Jack was not called from his business, and summoned to attend as a juror. In con- sequence of which, he found that much of his time had been wasted, or lost to his family. He often regretted that he ever had any dealing with the sheriff, for never before was Jack called upon to take any part in legal affairs, or disturbed from his seat. He knew well that the sheriffs object was to have him fined, in case of any neglect of duty ; however, Jack had recourse to the following expedient, by way of emancipating himself. At the approach of an assizes, he neglected for some days to either shave or wash his face or hands; he borrowed an old soldiers jacket that had seen many campaigns, and was worn for some years by a beggarman ; he took a pair of inexpressibles from a former's po- tatoe- garden, that had served for some time to frighten crows ; he clapped an old red night- cap, and an apron to match tna rest. Rigged out in this trim, he approached, as usal, the court- house ; and on the panel being called over' John Murtagh was re- echoed several times through the Hall. Jack answered " Here !" outside, but as to get in, it was impossible, until he showed his summons to the Police. This caused much astonishment amongst the au- thority toys, However, Jack was admitted; and no sooner did he enter, than the sheriff bawled out again, " John Murtagh!" and the crier said, " Come and attend, as you areboundto do this day, on a penalty often pounds." " Here!, bellowed Jack, " when did I neglect to be at my post ?" " To the box, Mr Murtagh," said the sheriff, who did not perceive Jacks apparel, in consequence of confusion that reigned throughout the Court. Jack entered the box, and asked for the book, to show his readiness to comply with the orders of the day. The rest of the jurors all stood up, and so did the judge, whose countenance became at once deranged. " What." said his Lordship, " has brought that pilgrim into the jury box ? Who are you, my friend, or what's your name?'' " Jack Murtagh please your Lordships honour," answered Jack. " Were you summoned ?" said his Lordship. '' Often enough a vourneen," said Jack. " Mr. Sheriff," said his Lordship," could you have found no subsitute for that unfortunate man, in so respectable a city as Cork ?" " He's a respectable citizen, your Lordship" said the Sheriff " and might have come into Court well dressed if he pleased." " God and the neighbours know, that I had to borrow even the rags I wear bad as they are. Oh mush a gra ! the times are bad. Once, I used to get boots and shoes to make! but now- a- days, I only get cobbling." Your'e a wealthy citizen," said the sheriff. " I'm healthy enough, thanks be to God, " said Jack' " considering the support I have." " Wealthy I mean," said the sheriff. " Ah, I wish I was, acushla!" said Jack " Nancy and nine creatures would not be to day as they are, depending on the neighbours for a meal's meat. Well your honour knows the situation they're in ; but who knows, between you, and his Lordship, and the gentle- men of the jury! God almighty bless your honours! but ye would make a collection for me. If I had any beginning at all, once more, I might be able to struggle. If I could even buy rags, and go work journey- work itself, wouldn't there be some sense in it ? But as I am, what can I do ? And, to tell the truth of it, I would not come here, but expecting that the gentlemen would do something for me, Your honour knows" said Jack pointing to the Sheriff. " I see into it all," said the judge in a rage ; " Mr Sheriff, you have insulted the Court, and offered an indignity to the majesty of the laws, which I cannot pass over; you had no right, sir, to call upon such a person, you should have an intelligent and respectable jury before me, but it seems that ridicule was your object; but, your conduct, sir, shall not go unpunished. I now fine you twenty pounds; and if you do not find a substitute in the room of that man, before tec minntes, 1,11 double the sum." The sheriff found a person* and Jack Murtagh shrugged his shoulders and from that day to the present he has not been disturbed, or taken from his business. ANOTHER CHARACTER " Fat as a match,'' and upwards of threescore, In conversation a consummate bore, Her visage shrivell'd and her hair as grey As any badger's that has had his day,— Frigid in aspect, and of sallow hue Than O'Smitn's demons when the iigbts burn blue ; Not that her ey° s denote an evil mind, Or threaten nought that terrifies mankind, Though still about her there's a hideous look That Taste dislikes, and Beauty cannot brook ; A something that's productive of distrust, And fills a stranger with supreme disgust. Poor thing! her greatest pleasure seems the care Of one that would be modish in her air, And all her neighbours scornfully discard, When dresse'd in silk at half- a- crown per yard, But whom the Fates maliciously decreed Should be in looks the meanest of the breed, Although her mother many an hour consumes ( Help'd by false curls, pads, bustles and perfumes) To make her smart, and give her pitted face A sweeter and more fashionable grace ; Alas ; what cares that lazy thoughtless thing, That first and last at street door gossiping, For her poor mother's rheum- increasing years, Her present sorrows, or prospective fears, Whilst she can dress, and let the neighbours see How fine herself and Sawney Strut can be ? Mistaken mother! when thy head be low, On this thy pet will misery, s waters flow, Then with her hands, now kept from labour free, Be doomed to toils, and without aid from thee, And all the tawdry stuff which now she wears, Be swept away by more important care6, Cares which will make ( as they make all such) A thing that cleanliness would dread to touch! TOWN TRIFLES- We mentioned last week that the Sultan had received another quarter cask of chloroform for the ladies of his seraglio, one of his three hundred wives has just been put to bed with a fine girl. Now, if every lady fairly takes her turn for the honours of the Royal bed, and there must be great dissatisfaction, we presume, if it is not so, how much the Sultan must have to do to divide his little time amongst so many, aud give general satfaction. A RIDDLE. My rhymes on love I often sing, But now my theme shall be, That little curious brownish thing Whose name begins with C. From youth to age, in climes remote, It pleases without fear ; It seizes ennui by the throat, And is to man most dear. O'er Britain's isle our youths arc seen, To forage for the best; Nay, e'en the lad, just reached sixteen, Enjoys it with a jest. Bucks own at the festal board, its power. To love it sure's no shame ; And now old fellow within the hour, You will not guess its name. ANSWER. RECREATION.— Make thy recreation servant to thy business, lest thou become slave to thy recreation. When thou goest up into the mountain, leave this servant i-. i the valley ; when thou goest into the city, leave him in the suburbs, and remember the servant must not be greater than 4 he fpwatf. You're right, good master TOWN, you're right, Its fame is noised afar, For he must be a stupid wight, Who can't tell— a Good Cigar. LINES FOUND AT TEMPERANCE'S, LONG ACRE. My eyes are put in mourning, Eecause I won't take warning, And to pay my bets are scorning, When I at " Cod'em" play. I'm a stunner to fawn and flatter, Drink other covey's gatter; But, as paying's another matter, I always cut's away. " Power is a gift from Heaven to rulers sent, The seal to mark a rightful government, In justice, and in mercy,— not t'oppress The weak, the suffering in their great distress, But rather to protect the laws which bind The King enthroned, as the lowly hind." There is an old hag, who goes by the name of Meadows tha wife or woman of a fellow who was transported about two years since, for a robbery in Cheapside, under the name of Smithson, who has just issued thefollowing card, of which we give a verbatim copy, and to which we call the attention of the police:—" Mrs. Elizabeth Meadows continues to see female friends, on private matters, at No. 26, Upper Baker- street, Hoxton New Town.—. Questions answered by cards, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Satur- days, from 2 till 6. Nativities cast on Mondays and Fridays— unmarried ladies provided with apartments, and a female attend- ant as matron of the Lying- in- Hospital, at certain periods on reasonable terms. Remember No. 26— a green grocer's shop.'' What does all this mean? can any one doubt, is it not through such wretches as this Mrs. Meadows, alias, Smithers, so many young females are brought to ruin? We trust this notice will have the effect of hunting her from the neighbourhood. THE GIBUS HATS. Believe me, if all those Freneh- fied hats— Folks puffing so loudly to- day, Were sold for a shilling to obstinate flats, Or even were given away, They would still be as dear, as this moment they are, Let them sell them as low as they will; For that from economy sure must be far, Which always looks shabby and ill. We informed our readers, in No. 20, that Maria Fletcher had signified her intention of visiting Dublin, with some of her vir- gins. She has, we are informed, ensconced herself in the suburbs, at a place called Alpha Cottage; some of the giddyDublin lads, on fun and frolic- bent, found her out last week, and played up a rare game; amongst others who visited her was the unit- arian Char- ley R , so celebrated at Jude's wine- rooms, with the wo- men, for his deficiencies. " How did you like Mrs. Fletcher?'' inquired Jude's great vocalist.—" She's quite a classic," answered the bright youth. " I was delighted with her Alpha."—" Was you?" replied the other. " I hope she was equally gratified with your Omega."— Charley has not been heard of since. Gently touch a stinging nettle, And it stings you for your pains, Grasp it, like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains. So it is with prudish lasses, Funk or faddle as you will; Unless your cheek, your love surpasses, You'll find they never will - it still. 4 T H E TOWN. MEMOIR OF A FRENCH LADY OF FASHION- ( Continued from our last.) As I have told vou, I had no fortune. My father was, and is still, receiver- general at. C . This office brings hitn in 40,000 francs a year. My mother, in dying, left an income of 0,000 francs a year, which be divided between my sister and my- self on the day he obtained the situation he holds; and when I attained twenty- one, he added to this little pension an allowance of 5,000 francs, assuring me that with 8,000 francs Id li ve very happily in Paris, if in addition to this I would crente for my- self a position at the bar or in medicine. I came to Paris then, I kept my terms, was admitted an advocate, and like many young men, I put my diploma in my pocket, and abandoned myself a little to tho thoughtless life of Paris. My expenses were very moderate, still I expended in eight months my yearly income, and I passed the four summer months at my father's, which, in fact, made a total of 12,000 francs, and gave me the reputation of a good son. For the rest, I was not indebted a sou. Thi3 was my position when I made the acquaintance of Margue- rite, and my expenses soon exceeded my income. To distract my thoughts when away from my wishes, and to defray the expenss I incurred on her account, I began by borrowing 5 For 6,000 francs on the little capital I possessed, and I commenced gambling, for, since tlie. v have'put down the gambling rooms, they play every- where. Formerly, when you entered Frescati's, you had the chance of making your fortune there, you played against money, and if you lost you had the consolation of knowing that you might have gained; whereas, now, except in the circles where there is a certain rigour in regard to payment, you are almost certain, the moment you win an important stake, not to receive it. You can easily imagine why. I launched then into this " fast'' life, as turbulent as it was volcanic, which had formerly terrified me when I only thought of it, but which had become in me the inevitable consequence of my love for Marguerite. What could I do? When the hour struck at which I was to meet my mistress, I invariably left the table, whether winning or losing, and pitied those I left. For most of them play was a necessity, for ine it was a remedy. Cured of Marguerite, I should have been cured of play. But in the midstof all this I preserved great sang froid; I lost no more than I could pay, and I only won what I could have afforded to lose. For the rest, luck favoured me. I made no debts, and I spent three times the money than when I did not play. As I have told you, I commenced at first by not being received by my mistress except from twelve at night until six in the morn- ing. I was sometimes admitted to her box, at others she would coinc and dine with me. One morning I did not leave till eight o'clock and on one occasion I remained locked in her arms until twelve. By leading a more regular life, her health was rapidly restored to her. The cough, which every time I listened to almost broke my heart, had almost entirely disappeared. At the end of six weeks there was no longer any question of the Conr. t, who had been definitively sacrificed to me ; the Duke, alone, sometimes still forced me to conceal my liaison with Mar- gtier tc, and he too had been often dismissed whilst I was there, under pretcnce that Madame was asleep and had forbidden them to wake her. ' 1 lie period during which I was in the habit of visiting father and sister had arrived, and I did not depart; thus, I frequently received letters from both which implored me to rejoin them.— To all these entreaties I replied in the best way I could, always rept ating that I was well and did not want money, two things which I believed would console my father a little for the delay I nnrioin my annual visit. Whilst thus situated it happened that one morning, Margue- rite, having been awoke by a brilliant sun, jumped out of bed and asked me if I would take her into the country for the whole day. I gladly accepted. We sent for Prudence, and all three of us started after Marguerite had directed Nanine to say to the Duke that sho wished to take advantage of the fine day and had gone into the country with Madame Duvernay. Besides, that presence of Duvernoy was necessary to tranquil- lize the old Duke, Prudence was one of those women who seem to be made expressly for these excursion parties. With her un- exhaustible gaiety and everlasting appetite, she could not allow a moment of ennui to those she accompanied, and she was quite at home in ordering the eggs, cherries, milk, rabbit pie, and all in fact that compose the traditional country breakfast. I only re- mained to ascertain where we would go. It was again, Prudence who freed us from this embarrassment; " Do you wish to. go really into the country,'' she enquired.— " Yes," replied Marguerite. " Well, let us go to Boujival, to the widow Arnold's at the 1 Break of Day.' Armand go and engage a vehicle."— And send it here, then go and wait for us at the round point of tho Champs Elysees, that I may not be seen entering a carriage with you at my own door,'' said Marguerite embracing me. An hour and a half afterwards we were at the widow Arnold's, you know as well as I do this Inn, an hotel all the week, a plea- sure- house on the Sunday. The country has always been associated with love, and rightly so; nothing adds so brightly to the woman we love as the blue sky, the flowers, the breeze, the resplendent solitude of the fields or the woods. My love was not an ordinary love; I was as amo- rous as a human being could be, but it was of a courtesan that I was amorous ! that is to say, that at Paris, at every step I could elbow against the man who had been or might be to- morrow, which tore my heart, but which, by one of those inexplicable decisions of the mind, tripled my love. The courtesan disappeared by degrees. I had no longer before pie Marguerite Gantier, the mistress of half a dozen men. I had beside me a woman, young and handsome, whom I loved, who loved me in return, and whose name was Marguerite ; the past < ad no shades, the future no clouds. As we lay reclining on the turf, I perceived at a short distance a charming little house of two floors, with an iron grating in a half circle ; through the grating I discovered a green plat, soft as velvet, and beyond it a small wood full of mysterious retreats, which effaced every morning the traces implanted in its woes over- night. I cast my eve?, on Marguerite, she had followed the direction of mine, and, perhaps, also of the thoughts, so that like me she looked npon this house which seemed to smile upon us and offer itself to us.'' What a pretty house !" she said to me.—" Where'?" inquired Prudence. " Yonder,'' replied Marguerite and pointing to it.—" Ah! rav- ishing," cxclaimed Prudence, " it pleases you?"—" Greatly." " Well, ask the duke to rent it for you, and he will do it, I am sure. I will undertake it." Marguerite looked at me as if to ask what I thought of this ad- vice. My dream had vanished with the last words of Prudence, and had thrust, me back so roughly into reality, that I was s ill stunned with the fall. " Indeed, it. is an excellent idea." I stam- mered out, not knowing what I said. " Well! I will arrange it," said Marguerite, pressing my hands, and interpreting my words according to her own wish. " Let us go at once and ascertain if it is to let.'' The house was vacant and to bo let for 2000 francs. " I will give you a reply to- morrow., said Marguerite to the porter. " Would you be happy here," she said to me, pressing my hand. " Am I sure of coming here?" I asked. " And for whom should I bury myself here, if not for you ?'' " Well! Marguerite, let me engage this house myself.'" " You are mad, not only is it useless, but it would be dangcr- us ; \ on know well I have the right to accept but from one man nly, be quiet ( herefore and say nothing." " Yes, and when I have two or three days leisure I shall com and pass them here," said Prudence. We quitted the house, and retraced our way to Paris, conversing all the way on this fresh resolution. I held Marguerite in my arms, so that on descending from the carriage I already began to contemplate the plan of my wishes with a less scrupulous eye. CIIAP. xvir. The next morning Marguerite dismissed me early, saying the Duke would soon call, and promising to write to me the moment he was gone, to give me the evening rendezvous. In fact, before night I received a note in which she said " I am going to Bouge- val with the Duke, he with Prudence, to- night, by eight o'clock." At the appointed hour Marguerite had returned and joined me at Madame Duvernay's. " Well ! all is arranged," she said, on entering. " The house is engaged?" said Prudence. " Yes, lie consented at once." I did not know the duke but I felt ashamed of deceiv- ing him as I did. " But this is not all," continued Marguerite, " I inquired about a lodging for Armand."—" In the same house?" inquired Prudence smiling. " No," replied Marguerite, " but at the ' Break of Day,' where the duke and myself breakfasted. Whilst he was enjoying the view, I inquired of Madam Arnold if she had convenient apart- ments, and she had precisely the thing : saloon, ante- chamber, and bed room. It's all that is neccssary I think. Sixty francs, a month, and furnished in a manner to cure an hypocondriac.— I engaged the lodgings. Did I do right?" I embraced Mar- guerite. " It will be charming," shecontinued; you shall have a key of the little door, and I have promised the duke a key of the gate, which he will not take since he will come in the day time when he does come. I think, between ourselves, that he is enchanted at this caprice which removes me from Paris for some time, and will silence his family a little. He asked me, however, how I, who love Paris so, could decide upon burying myself in the country.— I said I was not well, and that it was to recruit myself. He ap- peared to believe me, but imperfectly. The poor old man is al ways on thorns. We will therefore take plenty of precautions, my dear Armand; for he will have mo watched yonder, and it 13 not enough to rent the house for me, he must also pay my debts, for, unfortunately, I have some. Does all this suit you ? " Yes," I replied, endeavouring to silence all the scruples which this modo of living, at times, awakened in me. " We visited the house in all its details," continued Marguerite, " w e shall be happy enough there. The dulce informed himself of all. Ah! my dear," added the fond girl embracing me, " are you not lncky, ' tis a millionnaire who makes your bed." " And when shall you remove?" I demanded.—" As soon possible." " Shall yon take your carriage and horses?" " I shall take all my household. It is you who will be charged with my apartments during my absence." Eight days afterwards, Marguerite had taken possession of the country house, and I was installed at the sign of " The Break of Day." Then commenced an existence which I shull have much pain in describing to you. At the commencement of her residence at Bougival, Marguerite could not break at once with the old habits, and as the house was always en fete, all her female friends came to see her ; for a month not a day passed in which Marguerite had not eight or ten persons at her table. Prudence, on her side brought all the men she knew, and to whom she did the honors of the house as if it belonged to her. It was the money of the duke that paid for all this, as you may well suppose, and yst it happened at times that Prudence asked me for a note for a thousand francs, in Marguerite's name. You know that I had made some winnings at play, I therefore hastened to hand Prudence what Marguerite had requested her, and fear ing that she might want more than I had, I borrowed, in Paris, a sum equal to that I had borrowed before, and which I had punc- tually repaid. I, therefore, again found myself rich with 10.000 francs, with- out reckoning my pension. The duke who had rented this house for Marguerite to obtain a little repose, no longer appeared there, always fearing to encounter in it, a gay and numerous company by whom lie did not wish to be seen, This arose from the cir- cumstance of his coming there one day to dine tote a tete with Marguerite, and encountering a party of fifteen at breakfast which was not over at the hour he reckoned upon sitting down to din- ner. When, suspecting nothing, he had opened the door of the dining room, a general laugh had greeted his entrance and he had suddenly closed the door before the impertinent gaiety of the girls who were there. Marguerite had risen from the table, had rejoined the duke in the next room, and had endeavoured, as much as possible, to make him forget this adventure; but the ol 1 man, wounded in his pride, had retained his anger, and had said somewhat harshly to the poor girl that he was tired of paying for the follies of a woman who knew not how to make him respected in her own house, and he had departed in a rage. From this day we heard no more of him. In vain Marguerite had dismissed her guests and changed her habits, the Duke had not written to her. By this I benefited, as Marguerite could not do without me. Without troubling herself as to the result, she pub- licly acknowledged our liason, and I resided constantly with her, The domestics called me Monsieur, and looked upon me as their master. Some time after, Prudence returned. I was at the bottom of the garden, when she entered, and she did not see me. I sus- pected, from the manner i » which Marguerite came to meet her that a conversation similar to that I had already surprised, was' again about to take place, and I determined to hear it like the other, so desirous was I of knowing all that interested my wishes. The two women shut themselves in a dressing- room, at the door of which I was eaves dropper. '• Well!" demanded Margue- rite. " I have seen the Duke."—•" What did he say to you?" " That he would willingly pardon you the first scene, but that he had learnt that you lived publicly with M. Armand Duval and that it was this he would not pardon. Let Marguerite quit this young man, he said to me, and as before, I will give her all she wishes, otherwise she must renounce demanding anything from me. " Wat did you reply to this?" " That I would communicate his decision to you, and I have promised to make you listen to reason. Reflect, my dear child on the position you lose, and which can never restore Armand to you. He loves you with all his soul, but he has not sufficient fortune to supply all your wants, and one day you must certainly quit him, when it will be too late and the duke will do no more for you. Would you like me to mention all this to Armand." Marguerite appeared to reflect, forshe did not reply. My heart beat violently whilst awaiting her reply. ( To be continued.) jHoticcg to ( ffotrcsponttentg. CONFESSIONS OP A PICKPOCKET."— Next week. W. M., ( Birmingham).— Send the article you speak of. You are correct in youv observations; THB TOWN is now, however, under tho exclusive management of its ORIGINAL Editor. , L. H., BRIGHTON.— We HAVE kept our word with you this week. Soyer's Nectar is concluded, and the " Queer Lark with a Soldier" continued. You have no idea how difficult it is for us to continue stories when parties do not send the continuation. We shall not, however, be humbuf" ed again. GIOVANNI, BIRMINGHAM.— The loves of Mr. Wells and Miss Edwards, of Mr. Hart's fine sewing department, must be authenticated. What about Woolverharnpton races? SPYING WILL.— Writes too free for our columns. NIMROD.— You are very severe. H. C., BRISTOL.— Why don't you send them to the EDITOR? All the little matters, mind, to tho EDITOR! G. G. H., WATERLOO ROAD.— You are a queer fellow, and to prove to OSR readers that you are so, we give one of your verses— " I've- a medicine to make wives prolific, And husbands to come to the scratch, And my famous rheumatic specific I'll challenge all London to match. I've cosmetics to free every skin, Of carbuncles, pock- marks, and pimples, A wash that if freely rubbed in, Will give to the queerest face dimples." You had, however, better get Dr. Walton's Private Hints on the subject It is only Gd. Your friend should see the Doctor; he is a nice gentle- manly fellow, and may bo consulted gratuitously at No. 55, Great Queen- Street. RUM- TI- TUM can be accomodated either with the " chill on" or chill ofF,* by calling upon our publisher. We have horsewhips of all sizes, and for all grades of ruffians; we take it that a scavengers would about fit our correspondent. WE have to thank our friend " Cosmo, North Audley- street," but must de- cline the invitation to the christening of Sally Myer's dress lodger's first- born, on the 23rd, as we don't care much about the company. Some of the names are a card in themselves. Long Bob Finch, the little old swell from the Custom- house, Mother Myer's man, Jemmy from Town, Miss Charlotte Rivers, the Queen of Cumberland- market, SnufFey Jew Jane, Porkey Clarke, and fat Paddington Poll. LONG STAB, ( MILB- END- ROAD,) has sent us 68 verses of a poem entitled " The Life and Death of a Trump';" we give one verse:— " My time is near come," were the last words he spoke, And the day that he croaked died an out- and- out bloke. The gin, grub, and gatter, with gaiety fled, And every true blowen wept, for Jemmy was dead. AMELIA ( Pimlico.)— Get your brother, if you have one, to pull the scoun- drel's ears. SEMPORITIIS, ( Leeds.)— Don't trouble yourself, the subject is so infernally old. A YOKEL.— The price varies with the quality not the quantity ; in proof of which, the Swiss giantess was nearly 17 stone. There is also an old nur- sery rhyme about a man who bought a mask, or something else, and it had no nose. " Why, here's no nose? ' well, who'd suppose That for threepence, you could have a nose." MIXED PICKLES.— We hope you ain't used up, old fellow. R. R. R.— We will endeavour to attend at Temperance's, in Long Acre. We know some of them for stunning trumps. IAGO, ( Birmingham);— The Editor has one which he will be happy to for- ward, if Iajo will say where. Otherwise it is out of print. HITCHCOCK AND ROGERS, ( St. Paul's Church yard).— Our correspondent should be more explicit; who is the godly- minded shopman whose friends live in the neighbourhood of Hackney, and who was found in the field*, with a tall woman in pattens, whom he told the policeman was his aunt, and that she had fallen down in a fit? What's Lushey Jack about with the girl at the Goose and Gridiron ? M. H. 11., ( Baker's- row, Whitechapel)*— Stop a bit; all in good time. We'll notice the thieves and strumpets who congregate round the stage- door shortly. we A. ONE, ( Newington Causeway.)— We don't know who Fibhard was, and don't want to know; he deceived us. W. G. W., ( Sheffield- street, Clare- market.)— It is infamous ; tho villain should be indicted. Is he to destroy the whole neighbourhood, and bring in the cholera with his vile detestable stinks because he must live? It is as bad as the bone- boilers and knackers in Lambeth. What is Baker or Smith, the street keepers, about, not to report the nuisance? MIDLAND MORALITY.— We are obliged to the person who sent us this article. We must, however, somewhat modify it, and the first part shall appear next week. Other correspondence next week. WINE MEASURE.— TWO glasses make a man lively, half a pint makes a man merry, one pint makes a man comfortable, one bottle makes a man fuddled, one bottle and a half makes a man drunk. Three bottles a day makes a man a sot. A writer in one of the cheap Chartist publications has the fol lowing singular sentence :—" The time has come when we must be up and doing, eve" y man must stand firm, or even the woman of our native land wiF shame us, their cry being for Union—( of course) look at Franco, there the young, the middle- aged, and the old, of the fair sex, arc, for the onward movement. Men cxcel in head, wo ^ en in heart— hence the troth of a re mark ofa professor of Halle. —" Woman is the nervous portion of I humanity. 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