SPECIMEN COPIES, H A LF PRICE- H A LF PEN N Y. No. 26. j PUBLISHED WEEKLY. Priee Id.— per post 2d. I the Office, for Eighteen Stamps- j For remote parts, Single Copies may be sent directgfrom the Office, for 2 Postage Stamps, or 26 Stamps per Quarter. MODEST MARTHA; OK, THB MYSTERIES OF LONDON STREETS. CHAPTER I. MRS. RADDLE8r- THE MANGLE— AND THE MYSTERY. Ia one of the large old houses that stood at the back of Old- street, Martin's- lane, lived many years since, Simon Pemberton, a strange, queer, quaint old- fashioned, odd- spoken sort of a man. At the period of the commencement of our tale, he must have been verging upon sixty years of age, but there was an healthful activity about him occasionally that might be envied by persons twenty years his junior. Curiosity had long since worn herself out as to his position in life, for various were the rumours abroad as to who and what he was ; first he was a sailor, then he'd been a soldier, then it was said he was a spy— till at last, as the little fat one- eyed woman, who lived in the kitchen, said, " he was a queer cove, that there was no reckoning up at all." The whole of the upper part of the house was rented by Pemberton, and although he had frequently many followers, hot One of the tumorous lodgers with which the place was inhabited had ever entered his apartment duripg the twelve years he had resided in the house. The child which he had brought there, little more than an infant, had grown into a lovely girl. His only servant, a mere lad, was now a thin, cadaverous, hatchet- faced man, known to the neighbours as " Solitary Sam." This was the whole of the old man's establishment, and neither persuasion with the first, or threats to the second, could draw from either the slightest particulars as to his history. Latterly, the neighbours had ob- served lights in the rooms of the old man after midnight, and about a week previous to the Commencement of our tale, the watchman from the church- yard of St. Martin's, had noticed at a late hour, the shadow of several persons upon the curtains of the window belonging to old Simon. These circumstances, as they got abroad, gave a new stimulant to the curiosity of the neighbours, which was in no small degree increased, upon its becoming known in the house that the old man had caused a small gate to be erected at the foot of his staircase, as if to keep off intruders, and had written to the landlord offering to pur- chase the house. It was in the evening of the day when this last circumstance came to the knowledge of Pemberton's lodgers, that a group of females were gathered in the kitchen, in deep discussion, and from their earnestness of manner it was evidently upon a subject of considerable interest. Mrs. Raddles, or as the neighbours called her, " Old Mother Raddles," the proprietress of the kitchen in which this meeting was held, was the 6ame person whom we introduced to our readers as the little, fat, one- eyed woman; her position in society eminently qualifying her to take an active part in any Feminine Scandal Association. She was the proprietress and managing director of a piece of machinery in extensive ( Jemand in civilised circles, called a mangle!— like the press, it was in her bands a powerful engine for the dissemination of know- ledge, communications pouring in upon her, not daily, but hourly, from every quarter;— at the moment when we are introducing these parties to our readers, a long lad, ia very dilapidated breeches and a gigantic coarse apron, was giving a propelling power to the machine, whilst Mrs. Raddles was holding up that article of masculine adornment, a shirt— the said article having just been released from the oppressive influence of the mangle. " As sure as this flesh- bag belongs to your old man, Mrs. Swopps," exclaimed Mrs. Raddles, " there's something wrong going on up- stairs, for there's been a fellow here this three nights let in after twelve o'clock, but there was no getting a sight of his face, for he smothers himself in a cloak— but I'll see who he is to- night if he comes, if I sleeps on the stairs for it." " I thought you said you'd speak to him last night,'' replied Mrs. Swopps, fondling a large pimple- spotted, red- headed infant. " I should have come over and sat with you, but for this sweet lamb, who's been so bad with the croup, the dear, that I thought I should have lost him. Miss Wiffles has just been telling me that the girl has come back to- day.'' " Lor," ejaculated Mrs. Raddles; " well, now, that does surprise me— but are you sure, Miss Wiffles," she continued, addressing a middle- aged female in a low necked frock and curl papers, " are you quite positive ?" '' I thaw her mythelf tbith afternoon," lisped the lady ; " I tried to peek to her, but that thilly fellow, the old man's ther- vant, purwented me." " He's not so silly," chimed in a fat lady who was seated in a corner darning a stocking, " don't you believe it— he could tell a rare tale if he liked, I know. That was a funny affair about my single man lodger meeting this Sam in St. Paul's Church- yard the other morning, when he followed, and overheard some of his conversation; and I really believe one of the men was this very person in the cloak." JOKE TO FILL HER BELLY/ " MISSEE HAB BURY GOOD APPETITE, COOKEY— MASSA FIND HIM NO " I BELIEVE YOU, SAMBO." 82 T H E TOWN. " My goodness gracious, Mrs. Pipelilly," exclaimed Mrs. Raddles, " why didn't you tell us this before? just stop till I whips this roller out. Peter, Peter," she continued, '• hold up the mangle— hold up the handle, you stupid ass; hold it up higher, I say. There, I declare, if you haven't made me run the roller through Miss Smith's chemise— not that it was worth much, God knows. These observations were directed to the young gentleman at the mangle, and the latter portion arose, in consequence of some neglect on his part in its superintendence having caused his mother to spill and spoil a portion of the linen entrusted to her charge. " Now," she added, folding her arms, " now, Mrs. Pipelilly, let us hear all about it— you c* n leave off work, Peter, for a little while, and go and amuse yourself by scouring out the back wash- house; I'll call you when I want you." " How can I go and do that," growled the boy, " when you knows there's them ere two girls' things, next door, to be man- gled ?" " What things ?" inquired the mother. " Why, the two white gowns," said the boy ) " they'll want ' em before seven o'clock." " Let ' em want ' em," answered the woman; " they hav'nt paid for the last things ; they can afford to go to the theatre every night, and stop out till two or three in the morning— so they must pay me." This was sufficient for Peter, who quitted the room, much to the satisfaction of the ladies, all being anxious to hear Mrs. Pipe- lilly's story. " You must know," she commenced, " that my Jack— I always calls him my Jack, because he's been with us now nearly three years— had been to the play- house, and after that seen his young woman home to the Minories; and coming back about half- past one through St. Paul's. Churchyard, who should he see but three men walking on before him, and he hears one of them say, " Pem- berton promised to bring two or three thousand pounds into the affair if wanted;" and then another voioeanswered, " Yes, and he'll keep his word." " Well, I never!" exclaimed Mrs. Raddles, suddenly interupt- ing, and clasping her hands in astonishment, " but how do you know it was our old Pemberton !" " Because," was the reply, " the person who gave the answer was his servant; the man he spoke to had a cloak on, and the other looked like a sailor. Jack followed them as far as Fleet- street, and then they all got into a coach, and went over the bridge." " What, Sam and all," said Mrs. Swobbs. " Well, this is won- derful— he must have stopped out all night." " Well, and ain't it wonderful where he could get such a lot of money from,'' observed Mrs. Raddles, " but I'm determined to find out what he is now, at any rate. I should have done so years ago, but for my wretch ;" the wretch alluded to being a playful figure of speech she occasionally applied to her husband. " But you havn't told us, Miss Willies, how the girl looks," she con- tinued ; " I suppose, with her modest tallow face, as usual; depend upon it that girl's as urtful as she is old— a proud stuck- up little minx ; modest Martha, indeed ; the fools ought to have been horsewhipped who gave her such a name. Some people call her pretty, but, Heaven knows, I could never see it." Mrs. Swobbs tossed her head and the small parcel of humanity which she held in her arms, at the same moment, by way of as- sent " Such a name should'nt be allowed in a Christian country," she said, " and then her old grandfather, or whoever he is, the miserlv old scamp, he seems to think she is not so good as other people's children.'' " I'd give a week's mangling to know where she's been hid this ten days," said Mrs. Riddles. The words had scarcely escaped her, when the kitchen door suddenly opened, and the shock h « ad of Peter made its appear- ance, who exclaimed, " Then, why does'nt yer ask her ? she's coming down stairs now." The whole company of feminines gave a faint shriek of astonish- ment at this interruption, but Mrs. Raddles, seizing an attenu- ated pair of bellows, rushed to the door, and grasping her offspring by the coarse apron, dragged him into the room. Such was the violence of her, that she materially disarranged his abbreviated breeches, showing, that if he wore saokcloth, he could not boast of fine linen. " You little beast," screamed Mrs. Raddles, flourishing the fire- coaxers over his head, " you've been listening, have you?— coming your father's tricks, heigh ? " " No, I his'nt," shouted the boy, seizing the bellows, and forcing the emaciated nozzle from the body, " but I've heard what they've been doing in the garret, and a rare game they're up to, and no flies." The maternal resentment of Mrs. Raddles, although consider- ably increased at witnessing the partial demolition of her windy piece of furniture, permitted itself to cool down a little upon hearing the concluding sentence of her son's answer. " What did you hear, you whimpering scoundrel ?" she enquired. " Don't whop me with the bellows, and I'll tell you," was the answer. " Wait till your father comes home, my gentleman," said Mrs. Raddles, walking to the other end of the room, and, throwing her- self into a chair, sat apparently as if fatigued with her recent ex- ertion. " Wait till then." Peter, who thoroughly understood this pantomime to signify that a punishment of a corporal character was only prorogued for him, determined, however, to remain silent until a full pardon was granted. " Your mother won't hurt you, Pi ter," said Mrs. Squabbs per- suasively, " but it was wrong of you to come in as you did. You might have sent this dear cherub into screaming convulsions— come, tell us what you saw up stairs, like a good boy, at once." " Why, there's a woman come to see the old man," replied the boy, " dressed like a duchess, and directly she went up stairs there was such a scream and such a row, and I could hear old Simon swearing at a rare rate." " Swearing !" exclaimed Mrs. Raddles, with astonishment, " you heard the old man swearing?" " Yes; and directly after Martha came flying down stairs as if she was mad, and I do believe she's outside the kitohen door now." At this moment a knock was heard, followed by the words, " Open the door, Mrs. Raddles, pray open the door." " It's Modest Martha," said the boy, " shall I let her come in ?" [ To be continued.] TALES OF LOUDON LIFE MKS. LOEIMER SPINKS; OK, TIIE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY ( Concluded), With considerable difficulty Mrs. Spinks was rescued from the dreadful death which appeared to await her, and conveyed in safety to the house, introduced in the earlier portion of this tale as the Warrens, a building formerly the residence of Gascoigne. It was whilst on the road, and after arriving at the lodge, she gave indisputable proofs of insanity, her paroxysms becoming oc- cassional!}' so violent as to require the aid of two or three persons to restram her. With no ordinary amount of anguish, Mr. Dawliins beheld this fearful change in his sister; his attention to her was, however, for a time, somewhat divided, by reason of the unfortunate accident which now threatened to destroy the pro- perty that he had hoped to live happily upon. Despite every effort that was made by the inhabitants of the surrounding neigh- bourhood, and the speedy arrival of the engines from Manchester, the flames had gained too great a mastery over the building, and ere morning, the greater portion of Rodwell Hall was re- duced to a heap of ruins. It now became a question of serious import as to what could have been the cause of the conflagration, and Martin Ryan, or Captain Flash, consequently became an object of considerable in- terest. The juvenile depredator felt the awkwardness of his position, knowing that, in truth, he was the party who fired the Painted Closet; he had, however, sufficient tact to understand that if he kept his own counsel there was no one to betray him. The Slasher was dead, Mrs. Spinks in a state of idiotcy, and of Varden there was but little chance of his appearing, even if he had not perished in the ruins. It was in the afternoon of the second day after the fire, that Mr. Dawkins, the lawyer, Mr. Darcie, and the principal members of the family, were assembled at the Warrens, for the purpose of examining Captain Flash, as to the cause of his presence in the Walnut- tree Chamber; and also endeavouring, if possible, to glean from hitn some clue as to the cause of the unhappy change in Mrs. Spiuks. The account which Martin gave of the affair it was imposssible to believe, viz., that he had been in the habit of sleeping in the stable, and had had gone to the Walnut- tree room in consequence of the fire. " It is useless your persisting in this story, young gentleman," said Mr. Darcie, " for it is absurd to suppose we shall believe it, and nnless you tell us the truth at once, we shall adopt other means.'' " I have told you the truth," answered the boy, doggedly; " why don't you ask the woman ; I suppose she's all right by this time ?" Martin had an object in answering after this man- ner, for he was anxious to know the state of Mrs. Spinks. The lawyer, however, understood the purport of this query, for he gave a glance at Mr. Dawkins, who was anxiously awaiting the result of the inquiry, and answered— " The woman, as you are pleased to call her, Master Imperti- nence, is this gentleman's sister, and she has told us of your tricks." Martin was somewhat startled at this announcement, but be answered quickly, " Then I hope she teld you that if it had not been for me she would have broken her neck out of the window ; although now, it seems, you want to serve me out; but it's just what the poor Slasher used to say, like all you great folks use poor chaps when they can't do any more for you." " No one wishes or intends to harm you," said Mr. Dawkins, moved by the boy's manner; " but tell us what occurred in the room to frighten the lady, and what became of the man who was with her." " You mean that rascal, Varden," replied the boy, thrown off' his guard by the suddenness of the query ; " I hope he did'nt get out." " Did you not say, Mrs. Dobson," said Dawkins, not appearing to notice the answer, " that you left Mrs. Spinks with Varden ?" " I said I left her with a gentleman," answered the old woman. " And where is your companion ?" continued Darcie; " he who accompanied you from the railway— come, now, don't be obsti- nate ; did he escape with that rascal, Varden, as you call him ?" Martin made no answer at this allusion to his departed com- panion, but a tear burst from his eye as he thought of the fate of the Slasher, followed by a feeling of bitter vengeance towards Varden ; and he exclaimed, with much vehemence, " Yes, and he is a rascal, for if it had not been for him, this would not have happened." It now required but little persuasion to draw from Martin the whole particulars of the meeting between the Slasher and Var- den, together with the cause of the visit of the former, and his death at the hands of the latter. Leaving Martin at the Warrens, the whole party immediately repaired to that portion of the ruins where the Walnut- tree chamber had stood, and upon a minute inspection, discovered the mangled remains of the unfortunate man known as the Slasher. The boy's statement having been thus confirmed, it now gave rise to various conjectures as to the fate of Varden; it appeared impossible that he could have escaped by the secret passage, for, according to Martin's account, if he had passed down but a few yards, he must have) been suffocated; and yet, had he perished in the conflagration, some portion of his remains would have been discovered; and also a small iron box, which it seemed had been taken by the Slasher from the Painted Closet, and seized by Varden. " It is useless speculating as to the fate of Varden," said Mr. Darcie, calling Andrew upon one side; " it is certain he has es- caped from the hall; it will, however, be your duty, as the pro- prietor of this estate, to use every exertion to discover him, and it will be essential to the ends of justice that this boy should be secured." Mr. Dawkings instantly agreed in the propriety of the proposi- tion, but great was the chagrin of every person upon learning on their return to the Warrens that, taking advantage of an open window, Martin had fled. Mr. Dawkins was about to give orders ( or an immediate pursuit, when his attention was absorbed by a subject of a far more painful character; one which, for a considerable period, prostrated every faculty; it was the shriek of a woman, so long, loud, and piercing, that it reached every apartment in the building. There was no time for inquiry as to the cause, for the next instant young Dobson hastily entered the apartment, and, to the horror of all present, stated that Mrs. Spinks, during the absence of Mrs. Dobson, had suspended her- self by a portion of her dress from a beam in the ceiling, and that, although she had been almost immediately cut down, he added that he feared she was no more. Dawkins rushed from the apartment into the room where lay the body of his unfortunate, erring sister, her countenance dis- figured with the agonies of a violent death. " She is dead," he exclaimed; " foolish, unhappy woman, she has perished a victim to her fearful passions ;" and having given utterance to these words, he fell upon the lifeless body of Mrs. Spinks. Medical aid was promptly, but ineffectually applied, for long ere it could be obtained, the vital spark had fled. ******* About half a mile from Rodwell Hall, and slightly diverging from tbe main road, towards Kersall Moor, there was till within the last two or three years, a picturesque plantation of trees, rising upon a gentle declivity, and skirted at one extremity by a small pool of water. The place jis lonely in the extreme, and was for a time a favourite retreat of lovers. It was from beneath tl. e shadow of one of these trees, that., about eleven o'clock on the night that Martin fled from the " Warrens," a man might be seen to crawl to the mound and make violent efforts to descend, his object, apparently, being to reach tbe water. The exertion, however, was evidently too much for him, for after one or two ineffectual struggles to drag himself along, he gave vent to a low groan and fell upon his side. The clothes of the wretched creature were torn and rent in several places, whilst his features, although the light of the moon fell directly upon his countenance were scarcely discernible by reason of the mass of blood and dirt with which they were covered. At a short distance from where he was lying, might also be seen a more juvenile figure, who, by stealthy but active move- ments, had contrived to reach the spot, and now lay shrouded in the long grass, eagerly watching the proceedings of the wounded man. " And must I perish thus ?" exclaimed the man bitterly; " is this the end of all my deep- laid schemes,— have I but escaped the fire, and sought this retreat, but to die here the death of a dog, my leg is broken, and my arm useless; but for that accursed tree all would have been well; oh, Saunders, Saunders, thou art, indeed, avenged!" There was a pause of a few moments, and the man again groaned deeply, at the same time tbe figure that was watching him raised himself from the ground, and showed the person of the boy Martin Ryan— the wounded man, as our readers doubt- less have guessed ere this, being Varden. By extraordinary exertions he had passed through the secret passage and round that portion of the wall that skirted the painted closet, where it will be remembered the fire first originated. Here he received a severe wound in the forehead; nothing daunted, however, for having overcome the heat, he was comparatively safe, and being well acquainted with the building, he found as he had anticipated, at an angle in the wall, a door leading to the vaults below. These vaults communicated with the stables at the rear of the building, and from this place, in the confusion of the fire, he had contrived to escape. The blood now flowed freely from the wound in his forehead, and faint from its loss be was compelled to stop at the plantation above described. He now had time to reflect, and thinking that his present appear- ance would excite suspicion, lie determined to stay in the planta- tion for the night, rightly conjecturing that it would be supposed he had perished in the fire. Varden was evidently acquainted with the spot; seeking a hollow oak tree, in which in boyhood he had often hid himself, he concealed the small iron box which he had carried with him, and then ascended the tree. Varden remained here during the night, but in descending, shortly before day- break, he had missed his footing, and falling upon the ground, bad broken his leg and arm, and remained in this fearful position during the whole of the day, not an individual having passed near the place of his concealment. As Martin raised himself from the ground, Varden became conscious of his presence, but ere he could speak, the former gave utterance to a loud derisive laugh, and exclaimed, " Halloo, my covey, what you're there, are you— bowled you out at last, have I — what's the matter with your pins, my pippin ? you don't seem so lively as when you put your bullet into poor Saunders." " Fiend, imp, demon," shrieked Varden, " what, is it you ?" " Yes," answered the boy, " ain't you happy to see me ; you must be lonely there; however, you shan't be so long ; I'll fetch you some company ; there's two or three will be delighted to see you, Mr. Djwkins, and the lawyer." Martin was now making off towards the direction of the Hall, but was callod back by Varden, who promised to reward him liberally if he would assist in place of betraying him, and informed him that the box which he had taken from the Hall contained the old man's will and papers, worth many thousands. " How am I to know I shall have fair regulars?'' said the boy, cunningly, " where is it?" Varden now explained to Martin all that the reader is already in possession of, concluding by pointing out to him where the box was concealed. Martin raised himself into the tree; his back was turned to Varden, and he exclaimed, " I have got the box." Have you?" shouted Varden, raising himself by a violent eff irt from the ground, aad drawing his last pistol from his pocket, " much good may it do you, you d— d young spawn of hell; you thought to sell me, did you ; take that, and tell your friend, the Slasher, I gave it you." The next instant a ball struck the box from the hand of the boy, scattering its contents upon the ground, and shattering the tree. Furies of hell," shrieked Varden, " I have missed him." Yes, you have," said Martin, " that's giving me ' regulars,' is it ? Now I'll give you mine," and without uttering another word, he rushed off to the " Warrens." " All is lost— all is over,'' exclaimed Varden, as he saw Martin run across the fields, " I am sold— sold by a boy— a beggar brat — and I powerless, helpless ; they will return in a short time and find these papers— the wealth for which I have toiled. No, no, no; at least, they shall not have them. Oh, for one moment's strength; my limbs refuse their aid; and yet, yet I think I can reach them." With a power almost supernatural, he contrived to secure a portion of the papers which were scattered upon the ground these he thrust into his bosom. " Ah," he muttered, " yonder is the will,— could I but gain that!" the object of his solicitude had been borne to the very summit of the mound. Dragging himself thither, he, with an extraordinary effort, grasped tbe document; its possession, however, sealed his doom. In bis anxiety to reach the parchment, he hung over the brow of the mound, and, ere he could regain his equilibrium, he rolled down the descent, his head, and the whole of the upper portion of his body being immersed in the pool where, after a few violent but useless struggles, suffocation terminated his career of crime. Upon the arrival of Dawkings and the domestics from the Hall, they proceeded to remove the body, and collect the scattered documents. An examination of them accounted fully for the anxiety both of the Slasher and Varden to possess them, after that they had ascertained they were concealed in the portrait of Miss Rodwell. In addition to a will, and the marriage certificate of Mrs. Dawkings, which showed Andrew to be the sole heir to the estate, there were a number of bank bills and notes to the amount of several thousands, doubtless secreted by Babbington, and which, from his being prohibited admission to the H all, he had been unable to regain possession of. It should at the same time be remarked, that it was impossible even for Mrs. Saunders to have been acquainted with their real value. • # • * The next evening, Spinks, who had been informed his wife was in Manchester, arrived. It had been deemed advisable, at the time of writing, not to break to him too suddenly the particulars of her singular conduct, or the shocking chain of events which had led to the loss of her reason. His agony of mind may there- fore be imagined to have been terrible, when, upon arriving at the Warrens, he learned the mother of his children was no more. Lorimer's grief was not, however, of that poignant character which refuses to be comforted; on the contrary, a few hours after, it was considerably assuaged upon ascertaining that, although Mrs. Spinks had no claim on the estate, it was the intention of his brother- in law, Mr. Dawkings, to provide for the children of his sister— a promise which he most faithfully adhered to. Mr. Dawkings converted the whole of the property connected with the Rodwell estate into cash, aud with Clara, whom he shortly after led to the altar, retired to the continent, where he established himself in a splendid villa, only visiting this country occasionally to see old friends. The younger Darcie recovered of his wound, and was united to Miss Babbington. Martin Rvan, as a reward for his fidelity, was taken into the service of Mr. Dawkings, where be became a steady, useful, faithful servant. Even the sister of Clara, the paramour of the burglar, Baker, was not forgotten ; refusing an offer to be placed in a respectable method of obtaining a livelihood, at ber own request she was passed to the colony where the object of her unfortunate attach- ment was transported, and he obtaining a ticket of leave, was afterwards married to him. Old Mrs. Shadrach, upon the breaking up of her establishment, and the transportation of her husband, repaired to her native place ( Manchester), and con- tinued to flourish in her peculiar profession in the neighbourhood of Canal- street and R chmond- street. It now only remains to speak of Mr. Lorimer Spinks. The generosity of his new- found brother- in- law exhibited itself in a form that rendered it unnecessary for him longer to work at his trade, living independent in a small cottage near Harrow. Mr. Spinks, when last seep, wa& a widower, being determined, to use his own expression, never again to run the chance of giving his name to a woman who, with all his caution, might, like his first wife, be justljr termed " A MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOCrG AY." . I A Welsh maiden lately falling asleep in , her garden, near Llanan- ffechall, at sunny moon, conceived when she awoke ihat her garter was loose, and was about to tie it, but swooned on finding that it was a snake 1 The poor snake, equally frightened, slipped off. Why is the TOWN like a cage containing a bird which makes youg head ache ? Because it has a stunning lark in it. 83 THE TOWN. MEMOIR OF A FRENCH LADY OF FASHION- ( Continued from our last.) She asked me for money; I gave her some, and now at liberty to go, I r< turned home. Marguerite had not replied to me. It is needless to tell jou in what agitation I passed the next day. At half- past six a messenger brought an envelope, containing my letter and the five hundred franc note, without a single line or word. " Who gave you this ?" I said to the man. " A lady, who left, with her maid, in the Boulogne mail, and who directed me not to deliver it until the coach was outside the court." I paid the man for his errand, and hastened to Marguerite's. " Madame departed lor England at six o'clock," replied the porter to me. Nothing now retained me in Paris, neither hatred nor love. I was exhausted by all these shocks. A friend of mine was about to take a journey to the east; I menlioned to my father my wish to accompany him; hegave me letters of credit and recommendation, and eight or ten days after I embarked for Marseilles. It was at Alexandria I learnt from an attache of the embassy, whom I had sometimes met at Marguerite's, the illness of the poor girl. I then wrote her the letter to which she made the reply you are aware of, and which I received at Toulon. I immediately departed, and you know the rest. It now only remains for you to read the few pages which Julie Duprat has handed me, and which are the indispensable sequel of what I have narrated to you.'' The verbatim insertion of the letter, written by Marguerite to Armand shortly before her death, would take up too much of our space, but we will give the substance of it. It informed him that during his absence at Paris, on the day he was unsuccessful in meeting with his father, M. Duval had written to Marguerite to request her to remove Armand from Bonjival the following day, on some pretence, and to receive him, as he wished to talk with her, and recommending her, above all, to say nothing of it to Armand. Consequently, on the following day, M. Duval called, and commenced his introduction with so much hauteur, impertinence, and even threats, that she gave him to understand that she was in her own house, and that she had no account to render him of her life, unless from the sincere affection she had for his son. M. Duval then made use of the same train of reasoning as he had held to his son, to induce her to sacrifice her love for Armand to his welfare. His words drew tears from her eyes. The paternal manner in which he spoke to her, the chaste sentiments he in- voked, the esteem of this loyal old man, awakened in her noble thoughts, which raised her in her own eyes, and conjured up in her a pride until then unknown. The exaltation of the moment exaggerated, perhaps, the truth of these impressions. " ' Tis well, sir," she said to M. Duval, and wiping away her tears. " Do you believe that I love your son?" " Yes," replied M. Duval. " With a disinterested love?"—" Yes.'' " Do you believe that I have made of this love, the hope, the dream, and the pardon of my life ?"—" Firmly." " Well, sir, embrace me once as you would your daughter and I swear to you that this bliss, the only real chaste one I have received, will fortify me against my love, and that within a week, your son shall return to you, perhaps unhappy for some time, but cured for ever." " You are a noble girl," replied M. Duval, kissing her on the forehead, " and you attempt a thing which the Almighty will remember, but I much fear you will obtain nothing from my son." " Oh 1 be tranquil, sir, he will hate me " It was requisite that she should place an impassable barrier between her and Armand ; she, therefore, wrote to Prudence that she accepted the proposition of the Count de N., and that she would inform him that Marguerite would sup with her and him. She sealec the letter, and without informing M. Duval of the contents, begged him to forward it to its address on arriving at Paris. He aske 1 her, however, what it contained. " The hap- piness of your son," was her reply. He once more kissed her, and she felt on her forehead two tears of gratitude, which were to her as the baptism of her first fault, and at the very moment she con- sented to yield herself to the arms of another, she glowed with pride on thinking what she redeemed by this fault. The letter then continues:—" M. Duval entered a carriage and departed. Still, I was a woman, and when I again saw you, I could not help shedding tears, but I did not hesitate. Had I done right ? This is what I ask myself, now that I take to my bed, which I shall only quit, perhaps, a corpse. " You were a witness of what I suffered, as the hour of our in- evitable separation approached ; your father was no longer there to support me, and there was a moment when I was on the point of confessing all to you, so overcome was I at the idea that you would hate and despise me. " One thing that you will not believe, perhaps, is," that I prayed to God to give me strength, and what proved that he accepted my sacrifice is, that he vouchsafed me the strength I implored. At » he supper, too, I still needed help, for I would not think on what I was about to do, so much did I fear that my courage would forsake me! Who would have told me, Marguerite Gautier, that I should suffer so much at the bare idea of accepting a new lover ? I drank to forget myself, and when I awoke the next day, I was in the Count's bed. This is the whole truth, my friend ; judge and pardon me, and as I have pardoned you all the injury you have done me since that day." francs from M. Duval; at first she refused it, but being informed she would offend M. Duval by so doing, she accepted. The remainder of the letter was but a diary of her sufferings, her hopes, and her disappointments as to the chance of once more seeing Armand before she died. The Count de N. sent her money, but she would have nothing from him, considering him the cause of Armand's not being with her. All her former friends forsook her; even Prudence, now that she could get nothing from her. Her creditors seized herfurniture, but the Count de G., who returned from London and is never straitened in circumstances, paid the bailiff and dismissed the '' man in possession." They again seized, however, and only awaited death, to sell. On the 19th February she was so ill, the doctor recommended her to see a priest; she consented, and he went for an AbbiS at Saint Roch. In the meantime Marguerite called Julie Duprat to her bedside, and begged her to open her wordrobe. She then pointed out a bonnet, a long chemise trimmed with lace, and said to her in a faint voice: " I shall die after I have confessed, you will then dress me in these articles ; ' tis the coquetry of a dying woman." She then embraced her, weeping, and added, " I cau speak, but it almost chokes me to do so, I am choking. Ais ! ais !" When the old abbfe had received her confession and was leaving, he said to Julie Duprat, " she has lived as a sinner, but she will die as a christian." She died about two the following day, after severe struggling and pronouncing the name of Armand almost to the last moment. Poor Marguerite! On the 22ud the funeral took place. Several of Marguerite's former friends attended at the church, but when the procession moved to Pere la chaise, two men only followed it— the Count de G. who had come expressly from London, and the old Duke, who walked supported by two footmen. Dadame Duvernoy became a bankrupt, attributing her mis- fortunes to Marguerite, to whom, she said, she had lent money which was never repaid, which she well knew to be a lie. Armand, as a slight recompense to Julie Duprat for so faithfully attending her friend Marguerite throughout her illness, handsomely fur- nished a neat little apartment for her. We will conclude this narrative with the words of the author:— " I do not draw from this narration the conclusion that every girl of pleasure is capable of doing what Marguerite Gautier did. I knew that a courtezan had experienced in her life a serious amour, that she had suffered from it, and that she had died from it; I have recounted to the reader what I had learnt; nothing more, " I am not the apostle of vice, but I will make myself the echo of noble misfortune wherever I find it. " The history of Marguerite Gautier is an exception, I know it; but if it had been a generality, I should not have taken the trouble to write it." WANTON WOMEN-— No. I. MRS. ELLEN GRAINGE, ALIAS LADY FARLEY, ALIAS MRS. SEDGLEY, ALIAS DUBLIN NELL, ALIAS MRS. W——, ALIAS MADAME COCRZON, WIMPOLE- STREET. The success and general satisfaction which our articles on Loudon Procuresses gave to the readers of the earlier numbers of this publi- cation, have induced us this week to continue the subject under the title of Wanton Women. Few, however, would suppose that in so aristocratic a neighbourhood as Wimpole- street, with nearly one hun- dred houses of known respectability, such a character could be fouud located. This infamous woman who, to her shame it must be admitted, is a woman of education— was the daughter of the late Rev. Dr. M A LARK AT A FANCY FAIR. She then gently commented on the sufferings and martyrdom caused her by his conduct which succeeded the separation, and which severely injured her health, and continued thus: " I will not recall to you, Armand, in what manner you have recompensed the last pledge of affection I gave you, and by what outrage you have driven from Paris the poor girl, who, dying, was unable to resist your voice which demanded of her one night of love, and who, like one deprived of reason, thought, for a moment she could once more unite the past and the present. You had the right to do as you have done, Armand ; my claims have not always been paid so liberally, and you gave a proof of generosity. " 1 then left all; I wrote to the Count de G— that all was at an end between us. Olympin, who has replaced me as his mistress, has undertaken, I am told, to inform me of the motive for my de- parture. The Count de G— was at London. He is one of those men who, bestowing on the love of girls like us, just enough importance to make it an agreeable pastime, remain the friends of the women they have loved in this way, and have no hatred, having never felt jealousy ; he is, in fact, one of those great lords who always offer us a portion of their heart and both ends of their purses. It was of him I immediately thought. I rejoined him. He received me extremely well. But, there, he was the lover of a woman of the great world, and feared he might compromise himself by attaching himself to me. He presented me to his friends, who entertained me at supper, after which one of them carried me off." Marguerite, soon after this, returned to Paris, and on inquiring for Armand, found he had left for a long voyage. Her illness increased, and she was at length confined to her bed, and whilst thus suffering, she received the following letter:— " MADAME,— It is only this moment 1 have heard that you are ill. If I were at Paris, I would myself inquire for you; if my son were with me, I would tell him to hasten to you, but I caunot qnit C—, and Armand is twelve hundred leagues from hence; permit me, iherefore, simply to write you, madame, to say how grieved I am at this illness, and believe in tbe sincere wishes I make for your speedy re- establishment. " One of my good friends, Mr. H—, will present himself to you. I trust you will receive him. He is charged by me with a commission respecting you, and I impatiently await his an- nouncing to me the result of his visit. " Accept, madame, the assurance of my highest sentiments." Accordingly, the next morning, M. H. presented himself, and discharged his commission by presenting Marguerite with 300 and upon his death, in 1824, she entered the family of the Countess of G , as governess. Here she remained for nearly two years, until detected in a liason with the butler ; after this, we find her living in Devonshire- street, Queen- square, being kept by old Sir Matthew Farley, by whom she had two children; one of these ( a boy, eighteen months old) was burnt to death. At the inquest, certain disclosures were made, of a character that induced Sir Matthew to forego his protection; in fact, it transpired that the lady had been in the habit of amusing herself during the old gentleman's absence, with a very miscellaneous col- lection of lovers, embracing the names of Captain Duckett, young Harvey, the greengrocer's son, her baker, the man at the public- house, and the master of the charity school, Jemmy Grainge; this last- named individual she ultimately married, and with some money obtained from the Captain and Sir Matthew, opened a public- house near the Walworth- road, where she lived apparently very happy for about five years, blessing her husband with four children. About this period she became acquainted with the notorious Polly Levy, alias Mother Seymour ( for whose life see No. 6 of the TOWN), and visited her stay warehouse occasionally, but eventually left her home and children for the infamous Jack Sedgley, the hazard- player, who took her to Dublin, where, for the first time, Nelly " turned out," visiting the theatre, and the public promenades. Not meeting with any suceess, and Jack getting into trouble, through seizins, as he said, in the excitement of the moment, a young gentle- man's watch, for a gambling debt, Mrs- Grainge sold off everything and departed suddenly from Dublin. On board the packet she encountered W , the tragedian, com- ing to England to fulfil an engagement at Covent Garden Theatre. Having a slight knowledge of him, she quickly told him she had cut Sedgley, because he had not sense enough to keep her at home, or himself out of a prison. Upon reaching Liverpool, W , who was no way anxious to part with a pretty woman, suggested that the expenses at the hotel might be materially lessened by their having one bed between them, whereupon Mrs. Grainge took the name of W , an arrangement which was so far satisfactory to both parties, that they continued to live together during the whole of the Covent- Garden season, at the end of which Mr. W retired, as was his custom, to the King's Bench. Misfortune makes strange companions. Upon Ellen visiting the prison for the purpose of administering to the wants of her acting friend, she was surprised to find lodging in the room beneath, her husband, Jemmy Grainge, who, broken- hearted at her desertion, had neglected his affairs to such an extent that his creditors, with a view of bringing him to his senses, as they termed it, had ma< le him an insolvent. A fearful scene was the result. W appeared in the racket- ground with a pair of black eyes, and Mrs. Grninge made her exit from the prison with her clothes torn and her face much disfigured— she never again paid a visit to the Bench, and there is a blank in her career till 1840. How she arranged matters with her husband we know not, but certain it is, at that period she was keeping a house in Eastbourne Terrace, Sussex Gardens, Hyde Park; he was living with her, and she was openly carrying on the bu& iness of a procuress. It would be a waste of language to attempt to pass an observation upon the conduct of this man; the respectability of the neighbourhood for a long time disarmed suspicion, and she was patronised by the Rev Dr. C— y, Lieut.- General N—, Prince L— s N— n, and several members of Parliament. This publication at length drove her from Eastbourne Terrace, aud she removed to St. George's- roadi and about four years since her husband, who, from diinking, having lost his reason and become an inmate of a lunatic asylum, she again crossed the water, and took up her residence in Wimpole- street, describing herself as a marchanae des modes, or in plainer parlance, a dressmaker, assuming the name of Courzon. Her system of doing business is to send a card, of which the following is a verbatim copy, to all the principal members of Parliament and fashionable residents iu town. Madame Gourzan fais- ait complimens a Monsieur et veut lui dire qu'elle vient de recevoir quelqu. es petites Jilles qui sont tresjolies de Paris, et elle sera charmee si Monsieur veut lui faire I'honneur de venir les voir." Or, in English— " Madame Courzan presenting compliments to Mr. is anxious to inform him that she has just received a fresh importation of pretty little girls from Paris, and shall be extremely happy if Mr. will favour her with a visit to see them." Are we living in moral England? Will it be believed that such unblushing profligacy can go unpunished, nay, almost unnoticed? Fcr, saving this publication, the iniquities of this woman, and others of l. er class, are allowed by the press to triumph even under the very nose of virtue, wealth, sad respectability. ' Oh ! that will be prime, regularly jolly!" was tbe exclama- tion of Dick Dashall, upon hearing a project which his friend, Jemmy Withers had been proposing to him, that Dick, who was a devilish handsome fellow, should dress in female toggery, mak= himself look as spicy as he could, and they would go the to Fancy- Fair and have a rare lark. " Do you agree to this ?" inquired Jem. " Do I not ?" responded Dick. " Oh, to be sure I do, and now I think of it, our Sal has gone on a sewing expedition to a friend; this will be just the time to elope with her clothes. Gad, capital! Oh, Jem, what a fellow you are for finding out fun— ain't you ?" This appeal to the feelings of the renowned Jemmy, produced from that individual a very significant " Rayther." The above conversation was carried on in the back parlour of a neat little dining- house, known as the " Mutton and Skewer," at about half- past one of the day, as these two promising young men were discussing a mutton- chop and potatoe each. A decoetion of horse- beans, dignified by the title of " Stigs's best ale," a piece of bread, with a little cheese, garnished the b lard. This liberal al- lowance was dealt out daily, for the sum of eightpence, to those parties who wish to avail themselves of a good dinner. Dick, the intended demoiselle, stood in his high- lows somewhere about five feet four, slender in proportion, and what was a great advantage, his cheek had ne'er been graced with the manly down. He was just the right sort of fellow to personate a female, being extremely witty, extremely beautiful, and extremely cockish. His profession was the study of the law. His governor having paid 2002. down as premium, Dick was immediately installed as reading clerk in the office of a celebrated attorney, and he per- formed his duty entirely to his own satisfaction, and no doubt to that of his master, who, like the rest, never thought of him a'ter lie had pocketted the '' small premium which was required." TI13 chief works which he perused to perfect him in the profession were, the Decameron of lioccaccio. Tom Jones, THE TOWN, Aris- totle, and a choice assortment of the like, from which he obtained such a knowledge of human nature that after five minutes inter- view, he could tell whether such and such a person had ever been associated with " fast- going" people, a knowledge that served him greatly in his intercourse with the gentler sex, and which he held to be better than all the law put together, except, the law ofcrim. con., marriage, and seduction, which he sometimes studied, observing as he did so, that those laws were likely to be of more use to him than any other. From these observations the character of Dick may be immediately understood. If any body quibbles for having so long a description for so short a tale, let them remember that the above is a picture of one half of the English Law Students, and being so deserves to be very attentively read. His friend Jem. studied the medical profession in the druggist, s shop, and vended daily large quantities of those pills that, " only cure after 30 years of extreme anguish— viz., Professor Holloa- away. Jem's practice was not very extensive; now and then a black eye would drop in to receive a plaster, a bloody nose to be stopped, or a female whose leg had been cracked. Jem was very attentive to these customers, and escorted them to a little room behind the shop, much to the delight of the shop boy who had all the shop to himself, and who used to wonder what made the women come out with such red faces, laughing always as they did. But we are digressing. After dinner was dispatched, Dick sallied home to get the " thingemmys," in which he succeeded, and rushed back to the " Mutton and Skewer," where he had left his friends bargaining with the landlady for the loan of a bed- room, who, after a few sly looks, consented, and immediately conducted him to the chamber. There they staid till the return of Dick, when she came down, apparently very much rumpled ; and the servant girl, who had twice stolen up to listen, wondered what missis could be at, to toss about the room so, and be a crying out of " Oh, don't!" as she was. It took a long time before Dick was dressed properly in his new apparel, and before they could finish, the assistance of the landlady was required, to arrange a certain article denominated a bustle, over which a great deal of kissing and squeezing took place. " Well, deary me," exclaimed Mrs. Bodgers, tbe landlady; " what a nice, handsome lady you do make, to be sure— such a nice little wife you'd be for any quiet gentleman, would'nt he Mr. Withers ?" " Not so nice as you, my dear; he's in want of the essentials," smirked Jem, " voice and walk." " For shame," responded Mrs. B.; " to be sure Mr. Dashall does take large strides— it's very odd how we can tell you men— your walk betrays you ; you walk always as if there was some- thing between your legs which prevented you from taking small * ones, you do. But it's a funny idea altogether," said the lady, re- covering herself; " but young men are such larkers now- a- day." And with this truism, Mrs. B. led the party down stairs, where, after partaking of tea with her, they started for the Fancy Fair. In due time they arrived at their destination, followed by a few boys huzzaing, who had discovered the sex of Dashall, through a few round oaths he had let out, in a manner by 110 means femi- nine, at one of their play- fellows ; these attendants were got rid of, however, at the gate, and our horses entered the garden. " I say, my dear fellow, there's Bill Collister; you leave me," id Miss Dashall; " I'll entice him into one of the dark walks, and pitch him a tale about his girl; I'll have such a jolly lark." Jem bolted accordingly, determined to keep a sharp eye on bis friend, and have, to use his own elegant terms, " the rarest spree ever was in them gardens." ( To be continued.) IMPORTANT DISCOVERY. TO ALL DEALERS IN THE " TOWN." The following piece of information was derived the other day bv a person purchasing the TOWN at one of our agents, not an hundred miles from Lambeth Church. Having a witty little Yorkshire woman for his wife, who would be rather facetious, she was heard to say to her 4' lord and master," " Mv dear Tom, why should we take possession of the whole of the ' Towns' every evening ?" "' 1 don't know, my love," returned Tom, with his usual pleasant smile. Why should we. dear?" " Because ( answered his wife in true Yorkshire dialect), after T, they are all Tne Own Lad." N. B. We have just received intimation from our Lambeth agent, assuring us that no advantage will be taken of this important tiis- covery. TO THE LADIES. A CHARADE FOR THE WHOLE " TOWN. I am comprised of 7 letters, My 1, 5, 6, is what the Ladies like to get you in. My 6, 5, 4 is wot the Countryman said when the Lady ask'd him if he was good- natur'd. My 2, 5,6, 3, was Queen Adelaide's favourite. My 7, 5, 4 is Not - just what the Lady expected it was. My 2, 5, 1 is what the Lady made the Man. My 7, 5, is what the Lady said when she meant " Yes." My 7, S, 1, 7, 5, 6, is what the Lady said when the " Man pro- posed." My whole is what every Lady, ought to have, iu her hand. A young woman, whose complexion was remarkably swarthy, being habited all in white, demanded of her companion how she looked in that dress? " Look!" replied the other, " Why, you look for all the world like a black- beetle in a cream- pot, or rather, saving offenoe, like a black dog's head in a meal- tub." 4 THE TOWN. NOTICE. Our readers who may find any difficulty in procuring TnB Tows from their booksellers, are requested to forward to Our publisher the names of the persons refusing to supply them, as we aie making arrangements for the appointment of Agents. Wc shall also be happy to receive the names of Agents; the uncer- tainties of the publishing trade not being involved in the sale of THE TOWN— all back stock is exchanged, or the money returned, and a greater profit allowed to the Trade than usual. To meet the demand, No. 1 is re- issued, and tho consecutive Nos. will be reprinted every week. LIFE IN A LODGING HOUSE. ( Continued from No. 24). THE CATCH- PENNY VENDOR. " Here you have the full, true, and ' ticler account of tho hexaminatian of Manning and his wife, with all that he said, and all that she said for a ha'penny." The good old days of " Here you have the full, true, and par- ticular account, & c., & c.," have, alas, for the genius, whose figure heads this article, passed away never to return. The last dying speech vendor, like the link- boy, belongs to the things that have been; and, thanks to the march of cheap publications, this flying retailer of cheap literature is nearly extinct. Our artist has humourously depicted the " catch- penny" pub- lisher, a character that the force of circumstances have, within the last few weeks, rendered an especial favourite in the neigh- bourhood of Bermondsey. Their visits, however, are few and far between; and, but for an occasional diabolical murder, or serious accident, the " sweet voice" of the Catch- penny Vendor would " cease to be heard in the land." GOSSIP IN THE KITCHEN. The night soon came, that night of all nights, Bringing to her a rush of delights. Sally retired at an early hour, Languid under her passions power, Rosy and ripe as a full blown flower; And now she hides herself in bed, For she hears her lovers stealthy tread, And she thanks her stars that she's been wed- That she's a woman ! knowing and wise, She'll never frighten night with her cries, And so the sound she welcomely greets, Herald to her of sighed- for sweets, As A. Z. B. creeps between the sheets! Not writing this for little boys, I need not tell of that night's joys, Of the charming thrill and passionate kite Which so alarm a timid miss; But the days brought rest, and many a night Did they continue to steal delight— Having sometimes a bit of a fright, Once, when locked with Morpheus tight, The old woman came to borrow a light, Though ' ere she knocked at Sally's door, ( At the time it seemed no trifling bore) But Sally, dear soul, was no common store And A. Z. B., though he cursed and swore, Soon got cooler on the cold floor. Under heT bed Did he hide his head; Fit groupe for a pencil, Him and th' utensil; And till the the old one left in shimmy and gown, The bedstead pressed heavy on A. Z. B.' s crown. Another event caused a bit of a spree, Sally had long been plagued by a fiea, And as t'was important the thing should be caught, In rather queer spots Mr B. for him sought, And wonderful scenes to his gaze were brought. But not alone in Sally's room Did A. Z. B. this choice mare groom, The parlour echoed many a kiss, The old chair wriggled to hear such bliss ; Yet after weeks passed in this way, It did so happen, one fine day, Mr. B.' s lawful spouse came back, And Sail, poor thing, received the " sack"— At least as far as outward show;— No more to her chamber did he go, But sweetly worded billet- doux, Afforded Sally loving news— And of course she did not a chance refuse. Sleeping alone had brought " the blues'*— So, safe from curious person's blab, Had many a pleasant ride in cab. Of course, such exercise and work Made her clever with knife and fork, And many a pleasant feast did she Enjoy in A. Z. B.' s company At Inns that I could easily name ; But 1 do not wish to throw any blame On houses of good repute and fame— A few years hence t'will be all the same. Men grow tired of such like game, Years impart a higher aim, The love grows chill and the spirit tame, Though memory will some tribute claim. ( To be continued). of No. 1, will be sold to the Trade at half the usual price— viz 2 dozen for the price ofl. No. 1, in future, will contain Splendid Portrait of " Mrs. Lorimer Spinks ; or, the Marrie Lady that was a little too gay." Should they find any difficult in obtaining the " Tows" from their regular Agent, they ar requested to send their Orders direct, with the amount in postage stamps ; and the Trade are further informed, that they may have any quantity of the back Nos. of the " TOWN" exchanged, or their money returned, by sending to the Office, although they may have received them from other publishers. Parts I. and II. now ready, completing the History of Mrs. Lorimer Spinks. a New tale has commenced. The Publisher begs also to call the attention of the Trade to the advantages of selling the " TOWN" over other publications, and also that after No. 26, he will sell the " TOWN" to the trade at2d. per quire less than before; and Country Agents are requ « ted to see that they are charged at that rate by their LONDON AGENTS. TO ADVERTISERS. Inconsequence of the immense success of this publication, the Proprietors intend giving the Advertisers the benefit. Adver- tisers are recommended to try the effects of Advertisement in this publication, which, though it is not sold in Exeter Hall, has a circulation in every part of the Kingdom that far surpasses any other periodical published. Guaranteed Sale, 69,500. For referential proof of the above, see Stationer or Printer. TO PAPER MILL OWNERS. THE Lowest Tender will be accepted for supplying Demy Panur tha Quality of this Publication, for CASH. Direct to W. Wivx Tnw. Office, Holywell- street, Strand, London. ' ALARMING SACRIFICE OF LIFE.— IMPORTANT DISCOVERT WHILE the Cholera is making such fearful ravages, and Lambeth Burial Ground is swallowing its Thousands of Human Beings, it is an indis- putable fact that Not One of the Present Readers of the TOWN has evL- died of the Cholera. . Therefore, to the Nobility, Gentry, Clergy, Parish Officers, and to all the Inhabitants of Lambeth, this is to give Notice : That J. W. BELCHAM at 61, High Street, exactly opposite the Burial Ground, has received a> an pointment ( not from the Board of Health), to Bupplv the whole of the Back Numbers of the TOWN, at One Penny each, and the Quarterly Parts con- taining Thirteen Numbers, for One Shilling. Parts I. and II. are » ow readv likewise No. 1 to 26. J' BE IN TIME, AND DIE NO MORE!!! Newspapers and all the Weekly and Monthly Publications punctually supplied as soon as published. Stationary in all its Branches, Stamps, & c. NOTICE TO THE TRADE W hen you want any newspapers to go off by the train, M ake haste and get them at 16, SHOE LANE ! J enkinson lives there remember, who strives might and naia E ver to please all who patronise 16, SHOE LANE ! N umber sixteen, remember, I say it again; K nowledge and the Town, to be had at 16, SHOB LANE! I nformation on all subjects to free vou from pail/, N o where can be had like— 16, SHOE LANE! S o every newsman who'd not have a stain O n his character for folly, no longer refrain, N ow go then at once, buy at 16, SHOE LANE! PRICE OF THE TOWN, ONE FENN7. The Trade are informed that - 27, and all after, will be sold at One Penny per dozen less than before. The Country Trade are requested to see that they pay accordingly, but no difference will be made on small quantities. The imperishable pen of our artist, ever- varying, ever new, has this week insinuated his corpus within the sanctum of the kitchen; delineating, with graphic earnestness, a scene in a West- end man- sion. The small- tqlk and gossip which passes in the under- ground department of an aristocratic establishment, such as the one de- picted in our front page, will seem incredible to our provincial readers. Not a circumstance transpires in the family of the most minute or trivial character but is canvassed in the kitchen, and it is from that source that so many scandals are promulgated which too often tend to tarnish the fair fame of tho best and purest in society. We have frequently in the columns of THE TOWN adverted to the gross immorality of the scenes that are occasionally enacted by the domestics of the nobility. Scarcely a month passes but we hear that the butler of Lord George has seduced the young lady's- maid— that Sarah, the still- room woman, in the family of Sir William , is compelled to leave in consequ ence of the alteration in her appearance through romping with John. These things, we are aware, rarely come before the public notice, they are matters that must be " hushed up," for the credit of the es- tablishment; still, a close examination into the private arrange- ments of the kitchens of our nobility would exhibit an amount of profligacy not to be equalled in any other grade of society. This laxity of moral principle being engendered to a very considerable extent, through the wholesale license given to servants for scandal- ising the movements of those by whom they are employed. Whilst upon the subject of the profligacy to be found amongst the flunkey Iraternity, we may mention a circumstance, illustra- tive of the extent to which it is carried, that came out in the course of a trial for seduction in the Queen's Bench some years Since. The defendant was the butler to the Earl of H —, and it ap- peared the girl's dishonour had been effected upon an arm- chair in the kitchen. A witness for the defendant ( one of the servants) swore it was impossible the act could have been committed in the way the girl described. " For," said the witness, emphatically, " I was sitting in the very chair this morning." " What!" exclaimed the judge, " have you not destroyed the chair?" " Destroyed it 1" exclaimed the witness, with astonishment; " why, if all the articles that are used for such purposes, in a large establishment like the Earl's were destroyed, there would'nt he a piece of furniture for the servants to sit down upon." A certain lady, recently sailing from the Isle of Man for Liver pool, found herself in an awkward predicament. A wicked pin, dis- posed in the region of the " Bustle," punctured a hidden bladder of brandy, and the liquor dribbled into day, to the exposure and morti- fication of the fair smuggler, who arrived at home completely " out of spirits." Why is the TOWN like a man tatoo'd with a nutmeg 1 Because it has some spicy cuts. jHoticcs to ( ffomsponftcntg. A FRIEND ( Coventry).— We have heard of the iniquitous proceedings of a fellow who has been holding forth upon the teetotal system, and morality in general, concluding his performance by eloping with the mother of four children, the wife of the man who had fostered and fed him. This mis- creant, we are further informed, was particularly vehement in inveighing against the TOWN, ' on the ground of its immorality I and actually had the impudence to refuse to hear an article read from its columns, the night before lie ruined the peace of mind of his unsuspecting host for ever. MARIA W.— in the course of a very humourous letter, in answer to the one which appeared in No. 24, on Emigration, says she has been in America, and observes, that you cannot disarm the Indian when he makes his at- tack.— face him boldly, and then its all up with him in a minute, and after a few struggles his weapon falls useless by his side. With respect to our fair correspondent's complaint, if she will send us her address in con- fidence, we will try and do something for her. TOM.— We are much obliged to our correspondent, but he must send more, and say how much the article is intended to make. CAPTAIN EYEPARQTJECORNEE.— If it is any gratification to you to have our opinion, we believe you to be a most illustrious noodle; and with respect to your old woman's wearing the breeches, we advise you Jto change garments. INDEX ( Sheffield)— Must write to Mr. II. Fox, 7, St. James's- terrace, Water- loo- road, if he wants an explanation of the cant saying in No. 25, of " Have you seen the Prince?" DEXTER ( Webber Row)— The disgusting nuisance committed nightly on the outside of the Victoria Theatre, like the vagabonds who cause it, deserve the severest stricture. Decency is completely set at defiance, by sometimes thirty or forty fellows uniting to make a crowded thoroughfare a public urinal. CACO3THES SCRIBENPI.— We are acquainted with the address of the lady who lived for some time with Louis Napoleon, the President of France, when he was in England, but see no reason why we should disclose it. You are wrong as to one of her names, but right in saying she was an English woman of considerable beauty. RICHARD LE LUTIN ( Manchester).— We got your letter as we were going to press. Many thanks. POPPER ( Castle Green, Bristol).— It was very lucky when the snuffy young landlord made a mistake, and attempted to get into bed with his bar- maid, that Mary, the washerwoman's big girl, was there also. We never publish names, but we presume this hint will be sufficient. What did " my aunt say?" D. D. D. ( Stepney).— We never heard of a person cleaning his teeth with soft soap, though we have often seen it adhering to the tongue. CHARLOTTE G.— must not be spiteful. Mr. Henry Butler, of the New Strand Theatre, has a perfect right to dress or walk as he thinks proper. We are surprised at her objecting to his being a very " lady- like" tgentle- man,— we think him quite a ladies'man. The life of Madame Anna, Richmond Street, Manchester, came safe to hand, but will require considerable alteration. S. U. F.— You know nothing about the matter. Poor Mother Emmerson, who formerly kept the Waterford's Arms, in the Haymarket, died in any thing but affluence. A SLY-' UN ( Temple Row, Birmingham).— Your's is a queer story. Three married gentlemen! the one residing in the Bull- ring, the second in the Upper- Priory, and the third near Aston- Cross, take a house near Edgbas- ton, furnish and fit it up with three fat pieces of feminine frailty, and two or three times in the week all six sleep together. Last Saturday night, however, the house was stormed by the three wives, who had found them out; the husbands and the frail-' uns cutting their sticks by the back way, leaving their wives in possession of the castle. On Tuesday, Mrs. D., Mrs. R., and Mrs. F., the wives, called in a broker and sold off all the things. None of the gentlemen have, however, yet shown their faces. " THE BLACK- HAIRED YOUTH."— Write to Mr. S. May, at Mrs. Brice's Brownlow- street, Drury- lane; he will supply you personally, if you men- tion our name. " AGILE" is thanked. CONSTANT READER ( BirmSngham).— It was a mistake of a figure: the four should have been three— 1837. A SWITCH TAIL.— Unfold your tale. ABEDNEGO.— We have referred your letter to the Ladies' Club, and will I answer you next week. UN PACQUET POUR LES MESSIEURS, to prevent something more than Cholera, containing Twenty Four Letters, enclosed in a neat packet a la Francais. Preparfe par M. G. La Mert; per post direct, 10s. 6d. MEMOIRS OF MISS F H , coloured plates, post free, 5s. 6d. GENESOLOGY OF WOMEN, Sixty- three coloured Engravings, post free, 5s. r PHYSIOLOGY OF MAN, coloured Plates, post free, 3s. THE SILENT FRIEND, Twenty- six coloured Plates, post free, 3s. One copy of the original edition of HARRIETT WILSON, published by Stockdale, 4 vols, in 2, half calf, two guineas. WOMAN of PLEASURE, coloured plates, 5s. 6d., post free MYSTERIES OF VENUS, or Lessons of Love, five plates, 4s 6d post free. 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