Last Chance to Read
 
 
 
 
You are here:  Home    The Town

The Town

01/01/1849

Printer / Publisher: W. Winn 
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 8
No Pages: 4
 
 
Price for this document  
The Town
Per page: £2.00
Whole document: £3.00
Purchase Options
Sorry this document is currently unavailable for purchase.

The Town

Date of Article: 01/01/1849
Printer / Publisher: W. Winn 
Address: Holywell-street, Strand
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 8
No Pages: 4
Sourced from Dealer? No
Additional information:

Full (unformatted) newspaper text

The following text is a digital copy of this issue in its entirety, but it may not be readable and does not contain any formatting. To view the original copy of this newspaper you can carry out some searches for text within it (to view snapshot images of the original edition) and you can then purchase a page or the whole document using the 'Purchase Options' box above.

~ Mn O ! ( The Second Quarterly Part will be issued at the publication of No. 26. Each Part ) n 11 1) I r O Tl ri n i, T - r, ^ Tr- T i I to (' ontain 13 Nos. in a Wrapper, for Is. Post free, I,. 6d. PUBLISHED WEEKLY [ PlUPF OMR Prv. r,, • . . ^ I-. ^ ^ now ready. Bach part wm^ entdi^ ct, on receipt of ,8 Postage Stamp, For remote parts, Single Copies may be sent direct kfm tL Office/ for TwfpieIt'arap8 WAITING FOE AN ASCENT. METROPOLITAN MORALITY.— No. 2. THE TEA GARDENS OF LONDON. " How are the mighty fallen." PERHAPS one of the greatest anomalies of the metropolis, one which must insensibly strike the stranger upon a visit, is, those eccentric creations of attempted rusticity ' yclept tea- gardens. The name tea- gardens, with one exception ( Cremorne), is a positive misnomer; for who, in visiting the majority of the places so designated, ever for an instant dreams of drinking tea? why, the very idea is absurd, and would be scouted as superlatively snob- bish, ultra- tce- totalish, redolent only of antiquated aunts or gossips, loving scandal- retailing old women. The terms, tea- gardens, is, however, one of a very comprehensive character; and, although we of the TOWN, do not belong to the " century that is passed," we can remember the day when they were much patron- ized, and were exceedingly numerous; of this class were old Bagnigge- wells, White Conduit house, Copenhagen, The Eagle, The Yorkshire Stingo, The Montpelher, The Rosemary Branch, Cumberland- gardens; and, in more recent date, The Gun, at Pimlico, and the Red- cow, at Dalston. Of the places just en- umerated, we think there is scarce one that can now be recognized as having any claim, or wish to lay claim, to the title. Bagnigge- wells, once the retreat of Nell Gwynne, was even in our recollec- tion, famous for its tea parties— its shady alcoves, pond w til golden fish, and luscious fruit trees, bearing down with apples that might have tempted an Eve; but who, also, could now recognize, in the large brick budding, with gin- palace front, the place we have just been describing. White Conduit- house, with its truly splendid gardens, we have seen on a Sunday evening thronged with its thousands; tea- drink- ing was then patronized: the place is now a heap of ruins. Cumberland- gardens, on the Surrey side of the river, in its day, was a Cremorne; and although it did not possess one- eighth of the ground held by the pr< ' prietor of the last- named place, it would have proved, from its proximity to the river, a formidable rival, had it now been in existence. We witnessed its total des- truction by fire, and it is a most remarkable coincidence, that on the same day, years afterwards, Mr. Renton Nicholson, first opened Cremorne- gardens, now the ne plus ultra of all pleasure seeker Strange scenes have, however, been witnessed in tea- gardens ere now, and some very curiouo stories might bo told of them ; many a liason has taken place in those belonging to the Conduit, for it must be remembered, that they were not always patronised by the mere citizen. It was in the grounds belonging to this place, some twenty- three years since, that Lord George F wus detected, by a lamplighter, in a very peculiar position with the daughter of a publican, residing near the Islington turnpike. The man, however, had the prudence " to hear, see, and say no- thing,'' and was rewarded for his silence by being placed in a public- house in Tottenham Court- road, which he kepi for many | years, and his son is now the proprietor of art extensive gin- palace in ihe New Cut. There are several eases on record of acts of seduction at old B; ignigge Wtlls; and many a female, whom no circumstance would induce to enter a house with a lover, overcome by passion, and slightly excited by drink, have, in these places, yielded to the arts of the seducer. Whilst upon the subject of Bagnigge- Welh, it may be in the recollection of some of our readers, that it was there the cele- brated case of Charlotte Maria Watson and the Hon. Sidney Kedrison occurred. The affair was the topic of London at the time. It appeared from the evidence at Hatton- garden Police- office, that Watson was the daughter of a dissenting minister, re- siding in Southampton- street, Pentonville, and having met the lion. gent, by accident, was induced, upon several occasions, unknown to her friends, to walk round the grounds of Bagnigge, Wells, and that on a certain evening, after taking tea, into which, it was supposed, some narcotic had been administered, he attempted, in a retired part of the garden, by force to violate her person. The dose, however, not proving strong enough, she resisted, and her screams brought to her assistance several per- sons, who found the gentleman with his person exposed, and the girl with her clothes torn and stretched upon the bench in a faint- ing position. Mr. Kedrison was secured, but through the con- nivance of the waiter, George Blakely, was allowed to escape. A warrant was subsequently issued for his apprehension, and he was taken some months afterwards, in the boxes of the Adelphi Theatre, whilst witnessing the celebrated drama of " Tom and Jerry," a very appropriate piece. Both Kedrison and the waiter were committed for trial, as it seemed the waiter was on the watch. The case was moved by certiorari, but never came to trial. Kedrison, who was out on heavy bail, having fled the country with the waiter, whom he took into his service. The matter was eventually hushed up, but it was supposed to have cost, the Kedrison family several thousand pounds. The day, however, has gone for offences of the above character; gas and the new police have materially interfered with out- of- door amative amusements, although a tea- gardens might at first blush, appear, after dusk, a very excellent situation for a five mi- nutes social perpendicularity. Rest assured, however, such con- versation would not be permitted for even the moiety of two con- secutive seconds. No doubt, these places are immense gifts to that portion of the inhabitants of London, who speculate their money in houses of the character that formed our leading article last week. In proof of this assertion, we heard a few days since of a brothel, in the neighbourhood of Yauxhall Gardens, doing only an ordinary stroke of trade in the winter time, being disposed of, the goodwill of which fetched a considerable sum in conse- quence of its tremendous summer business. This may be urged as an objection to public gardens; should it be so, it will equally ajj}) ly to theatres. 2 T H E TO W N, We observed that the term tea- gardens was of a very compre- hensive character ; at the same time it would puzzle many to define what is meant by it ; pay, however, a visit to Gremorne, and the reader will at once see it practically illustrated, in the shape of four or five hundred couples, enjoying the refreshing beverage, with the adjuncts of shrimps and other delieacics, at a price which might pass current, even with a Joey Hume. Cremorne Gardens, a scene in which our artist lias sketched, is indeed » very splendid establishment, there being no place in the three IN in adonis that can with justice be placed in comparison with it, the beauty of its grounds, for a day promenade, surpass anything in London or its environs, and the diversity and general excellence of its night's entertainments, have, for the last two or three seasons, thrown Vauxhall completely into the shade. In short, to attempt to describe either the place or the varied character of the performances would he absurd, suffice it to say, that every stranger who visits the metropolis should obtain a programme prior to visiting the place, ( which latter particular they must do), there not having been anything in London like it since the great days of the Ranelaah. Ou Sundays as many as 2,000 persons have taken tea in these grounds, and the returns for refreshment alone on a fine Sunday and Monday have reached the apparently incredible sum of nine hundred pounds ! En- passant, there is one little harmless but highly amusing bagatelle, if we may so term it, we miss in connection with this place, which we trust Mr. Ellis will see the policy of resuscitating, via., " The Invisible Poet." We have mentioned the name of Mr. Ell s, who is the present lessee; the master mind, however, that first planned this magnificent retreat for the pleasure- seeking- portion of the middle- classes is still associated with it; wishing him and his partner u succession of sunny seasons, we bid adieu to the only tea- gardens now extant, Cremorne. TALES OF THE TOWH- MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OR, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. CHAPTER VIII. MYSTERIES OP LONDON THIEVINO.— THE ELECTRIC TELE- GRAPH CHEATER. Hannah had spoken truly when she told Varden that the ale was for the young woman, it being for the female known to the reader as Clara R ' dwell, and who had fainted at the sudden ap- pearance of the Marquis, as described in Chapter 3. It was, however, but a momentary fright, and Hannah, having placed the refreshments before her, told her that she would return in a few minutes. ' It is useless," exclaimed Clara; " I have gone too long to ta^ te this f od, and the anxiety of to- niglit has made me even worse." | As she uttered these words she rose from the table, and com- menced walking up and down the apartment. After one or two turns, her eye was irresistibly attracted towards the small closet from which the Marquis hail made his appearance. Pushing open the door, with the aid of the candle she proceeded to examine tho room. " It is much larger than I should have thought for," she ob- served ; " and really a very comfortable room for such a place. How damp everything ig,'' she continued. " After all," she added, " I may bo mistaken; and this girl of whom ^ he servant has been speaking, may be a mere stranger to me. It was a shocking death ; but I can ! iar;|| y believe Ellen Reilly could be so lost; she would never rend § b< jq ( looks as these." This last observation was made, in consequence of having fonnd upon a shelf a number of books of a description to be obtained only at certain littlt} inyster o> is- looking shops in the neighbour- hood of Holyweljr.- trei t. pjs, guated with their contents, she was about putting them back, \ vlirm her attention was attracted to a petite glass work- bnj, ev idently of French manufacture, and richly ornamented lyith paintings and gilding. The box was co- vered witli dust, and, hid behind a small draught- board, would have escaped her observation, but for the removal of the books. " They would think ine very inquisitive," said Clara, blowing the dust from the bflx, " t> u11 am anxious to see what sort of a place they are going to put me info." Whilst making this observation, she imperceptibly lifted the lid, and her surprise was considerable when, in place of discover- ing needles, and the other jitUf appliances usually deposited in such places, she observed a stn^ H pft( i| fg| in white paper, carefully sealed at both ends, upon vyjucp ivas some wj- iting in a female hand. Snuffing the camjle for ( lie purpose of reading the writing, her agitation, as the idea crossed her that it might possibly be the writing of her departed friend, caused her to extinguish the light. " I can obtain a light from the fire.," she said, " for I am anxious to see if this is the writing of poor Ellen." Her purpose was, however, arrested, for as she was about to leave the room, the parlour door opened, and two men entered the apartment. Clara immediately stepped back, and partially closing the door; sheas quickly placed herself behind the hang- ings of the bed, where her position enabled her to observe all that was passing in the outer chamber without being seen. The appearance of the two persons were sufficient to daunt a stronger mind than that possea- ed by Clara. The first who en- tered the room was a very diminutive, boyish- looking individual, apparently about nineteen yi ars of age, in a dirty white macintosh coat, which nearly enveloped the whole of bis person, the back part being stained with mud, and much torn ; his hat, which be- longed to the genus denominated " shocking bad," was decorated with a black crape hand, whilst a great portion of his countenance was concealed by a dark shawl. His companion was a tall power- ful man, standing nearly five feet eleven, attired in a thick velveteen shooting coat, pet off with a multiplicity of pockets, from one of which peeped the head of a thick stick. This person wore shoes and gaiters, but in place of a hat, his closely cut red hair was covercd with an oil- skin t ' avelling cap, the lappets of which, tied under the chin, partially concealed his face, not, how- ever, sufficient to hide that he had been very closely shaved, and was well known to the police as Ned Baker, the Liverpool Cracks- man ; his companion being Charley Ruekman, a notorious dog- stealer, but who bad recently turned house- breaker, in consequence of the neighbourhood of the Regent's Quadrant having grown too warm for him. " D— tion !" exclaimed the latter, as he entered the room, " there's no light, Ned ; how long's the old yidekin ( Jew) going to keep us here, I wonder ?" " Stir the fire," answered his companion; " that will give light enough till he comes in." Charley did as he was desired, and the fire throwing a bright light over the whole of the room, fully displayed the figure oftlie two men to Clara, who, trembling with agitation, had placed the small parcel in her bosom, and fearful to disturb them, still " What was that?" inquired Baker, suddenly. " What have you got in the pockets ?" " Only one or two things I couldn't put ill the portmanteau," answered the other, hesitatingly. " What things? Let me sec !" continued the first speaker, in the same tone of voice, and rising from the seat to pick up the coat, when Ruckman drew from the coat pocket several broken silver spoons and forks, a cruet- stand much bent, and a number of handsomely worked brass cornices, which, from the plaister adhering to them, appeared to have been forcibly torn from the walls. " Why what the h— 11 is the meaning of this," said Baker, " I made sur^ that everything was in the portmanteau," this looks very miicli like trying to best us; it's very lucky its not ' the Slasher' who found those things in your pockefor if he had, you wpuld'nt come off so well, my lad." '' What would he have done ?'' inquired the other doggedly. " What, wouldn't he have done !" answered Baker, " why he'd have thought no more of shoving this knife into you than I do of cutting this piece of meat. No, no, Charley, these dodges won't do; if you go out with a pal, act square by him, or sooner or later you'll gettiie worst of it. Take the word of an old gonuff ( thief) who's been out fourteen yoars next August, been once lagged ( transported), three timesfullied ( committed for trial) at Liverpool, and twice here in London, never try to come the cross with the cove's you're working with, and then they'll say of youas they does of me, that I never tried to rank a man out of his regulars in my life— you're a young'un, so I excuses you—" " I tell yer I wasn't going to do nothing of the kind," returned the other in the same dogged tone of voice. Before he could re- ceive an answer, Shadrach entered the room and exclaimed— " Bless ma heart, vot, in ter dark? veil— and quarrelling too? stay a minute vile I gets a light." Shadraeh left the apartment, but returned almost the same instant with a candle; short as was his absence, it was sufficient for Baker to remove the articles respecting which he had been lec- turing his comapnion, and placing them in his own pocket, ob- served that there was no necessity for the Jew knowing anything of the matter." They had not, however, escaped the quick sight of Shadraeh, for the moment he returned, he remarked, " So you've put away the shilver; veil, that vos right, ma dear; somebody might have come'd in, and then it would'nt have been pleasant, you know." " This has not turned out so good a job as we expected," said Baker, not noticing the observation of the Jew, " and the Slasher is quite disappointed, and if his mother comes to bear of the affair now it has turned out so bad, she'll be in a devil of a way.'' " Veil, veil," answered the Jew rubbing his hands, " the Slasher is a very nice gentleman, and a person I've a great deal of respect for, a very great deal of respect for ; but I don't see what his mother has to do vith ter business— if any body has to complain, it's me." " Four hundred miles there and back is a long stretch," said Ruckman taking up the conversation, " a very long stretch for cowered behind the bed, anxious to learn something more of their character. Her worst suspicions were soon, however, con- finned, as the men proceeded with their conversation. " S'help my ten men and a boy !" shouted Charley, " here's gome grub," as the light showed to him the victuals upon ti e table. " This is stunning after our journey. Come, Ned, let's have a blow- out." " Nothing like making one's self at home, certainly," said the party spoken to, with a laugh, at the same time seating himself at the table, and proceeding to carve the joint which had been placed there for Clara. Prior to following the example of his companion, Ruckman re- moved his macintosh, which, being thrown upon the floor, gave a heavy jingling sound. next to nothing." " Bless ma heart," exclaimed Shadrach in an alarmed tone, " surelv not for nothing ; did'nt you say you had a portmanteau of things?" " Yes," replied Baker, " but what is that compared to what we expected ?" " Veil, veil, veil" continued the Jew, patting the last speaker on the shoulder in a friendly manner, " we musn't complain so as there's enough to cover the expenses of ter trip and if ter's a trifle left for the outlay of my ready money, I guess I must be contented, though I did suppose this would have turned out some- thing decent, for, G— d knows, I a'nt made much lately." " Then I don't know who has if you have not," sajd Baker sharply; " I got but a finiff ( five pounds) for my share out of the bank job," f' Vot's tor use of talking about things as his past ? you know, ma dear, vot dangerous things notes are as veil as I do,'' was the answer. " So you will be able to drop us something more for the wedge ( silver) we've broughtyou," replied Charley quickly. " Ve shall see all about it," said Shadrach, " vot ever it is, you alvays get's ter full value; it's not much pull I have Heaven knows. But tell me how you got on; you hadn't much trouble to get into the place I'm sure." " We had not much trouble to get in certainly," answered Ba- ker, " and, ( rom the appearance of the place, one would have sup- posed there was n ore to be made. However, we started on Sa- turday morning by the seven o'clock train; Charley put 011 the red wig and the butcher's frock and booked himself for Boxrnoor; I shaved the whiskers slap off, as you see, and wore the jailor's toggery you gave me, and paid the fare you advised to Tring- No- body could have known me, for I met Tom Alien, the Quri ( po- liceman), and he passed me.? H Beautiful," said the Jew;" ojj, you're a great man, Mr. Baker, I've always said it ; you'd rnadg one of these play acting people s'help ma G— d, splendid. Vv, I hardly knew'd you vhen you come'd in wit you whiskers off. Vhen you leaves this country again it von't be for a trifle, pon my vurd. Ve'll turn in soijip ha'pence yet, please G— d, with this disguise— but go on for I'm anxious to hear all about it. Stop, have a drop of rum fust— I can't think vhere that Hannah's gone all this vhile or I'd send for something better." These words were accompanied by Shadrach pouring from one of the decanters that Hannah had left on the side- board, two glasses of rum and handing them to tile two men. " Here's luck," said Baker drinking, " this is good stuff, but not so good as that port I bad last night. at Rodwell- hall." Clara bad hitherto remained silent, listening to and observing the extraordinary scene which was passing in the outer chiftiber. She felt that she was in the neighbourhood of desperate characters, men whom, she doubted not, would not hesitate for a moment in taking of her life, if they knew she was in possession of their secret. She also heard sufficient of the conversation to understand that a robbery had been committed by them with the assistance of another, and the connivance of Shadrach, who now appeared to be a receiver of stolen property as well as brothel- keeper, but although judging from the conversation that the transaction had taken place at a considerable distance from the metropolis, she had not the remotest, idea it was at a place, the name of which was so intimately connected with her own fate, and upon hearing the words " Rodwell- hall," she involuntary started; at the same moment Ruckmau exclaimed, " Holloa, Shadrach, what the devil was that ? there's somebody in the next room on the listening game." " Is there, by G— d ?" said Baker, deliberately pulling a pistol from his pocket, " then they shan't tell many people what they know." Clara heard the click of the pistol as he cocked it, and dis- tinctly saw the ruffian present it towards the darkness of the room, the next instant its contents would probably have reached her, but the Jew rapidly seizing Baker's arm, ejaculated with more than usual warmth, " Vhat nonsense, your'e surely going crankey, firing and alarming ter whole neighbourhood for nothing; there's not a soul in the house, vuss luck, except ourselves, for ing.* When we got to Birmingham, which was about half. past two, we went to John- street, at the back of Dale- end, and after some trouble found out Mr. Hart; it's a queer place, beats the Rookery hollow; he gave us the clothes ond we went as swells to Manchester. But talk about a disguise; when we got upon the platform there we was stunned to think that the swell who wag walking up and down reading a book with his green specs, black coat, breeches, silk stockings, and white choker, should be our own pal " the Slasher;" there he was, with a little spaniel dog fol- lowing him ; he looked more like a bishop than a cracksman waiting for his pals ; we walked up and down two or three times, till at last he saw we did'nt know him, when he asked us what time the next train started, and then of course I knew him directly. We then went to the house you directed ns to, on Shade- hill, and stopped there all night. On Sunday I put on the livery, and the Slasher having got the horse and chaise with a deep box beneath the seat, we drove over to Kersall Moor ; It's a wild, dreary devil of a place, with scarce a house upon it, except a tavern kept by a man of the name of Jem Thompson; the Slasher stopped there for some time and asked a great many questions about the races that are held near his house; and Thompson, thinking he was a swell, answered all his questions. The Slasher, who knew every inch of the ground, then drove over the Moor, about two miles towards Rodwell- hall, and in a hedge at the back of the house we found Charley, who, according to agreement, had come over by the omnibus. We put Charley into the box of the chaise, and in about five minutes were at the Hall. The Slasher, although there was a board up warning off trespassers, and telling you to write to some coves, lawyers in the Temple, London, drove up the long avenue with all the cheek of a two- year old. An old chap, after some time, answered the pull at the bell, and, seeing a swell and his tiger, touched his hat. The Slasher asked lots of questions about the estate, but I thought it would be no go and we should'nt get in at all, for the old chap was very civil, but very grand and distant, and kept telling him to get an order from Milnes and Co., of Manchester, or write to London. At last the Slasher said, in an off- hand manner, if he'd a' thought of it, he'd have asked Mr. Babington, when he met him in Paris, for an order. I thought he'd put his foot in it now, but it had a dif- ferent. effect." " Vhat ! vos it vith that name you got in then ?" said Shadraeh sharply. " Yes," replied Baker. " Why do you ask ? you look as much surprised as the old man did." " Never mind now," answered the Jew, " vhen you've done, maybe I'll tell you something, and show you something vill surprise you.'' " The chap was stunned," continued the thief, " and after a few minutes he said,' Well, sir, as you know the family so well I can't refuse to let you see the old house ; but you'll find it very much changed to what it was when you knew it.' He then offered to take the horse and chaise to to the stable, which was just what we wanted ; I led the horse whilst the old chap went with Slasher, and the moment he turned his back Charley jumped out and hid himself iq tlie stable." " And devilish glad I was to do so," interrupted Charley, " I was never so cooped up in my life." " I went after the Slasher," said Baker, " and found him with the old man in a large old- fashioned room, covered with pictures. I thought the Slasher as bad as the other, for he got quite friendly, and kept calling him Dobson, and old Dobson, as if he had known hjjn for years. Dobson told us that there was no one in the house but bitqself, gs his wife and eldest son were gone to church, and the watcbmjq | id'nt come till after evening- service on Sundays, ^ t at sunset on other nights. I thought this would be a good opportunity to do the job at once, and no doubt we should have got a great deal more." !! Qf course you would," said tl) e Jew, " ' 00s they always locks up and hi<( es the things of qty evening; vhy did'nt yer do it tlien?" " The Slasher said he was afraid We should hurt the old man, and he would'nt have a hair of his head hurt for the worth of the whole job." " D— n the old man's hair," exclaimed the Jew indignantly ; " Veil, I ' m sure, that's pretty behaviour after I've specerlated all ma ready money in ter job ; and vhat vos you two about to stand like two d— d shizurs, and let the best part of the thing slip through your fingers? Perhaps it'll make a little difference to all three of you vhen it comes to the sharing." ' Better words, Mr. Shadrach, better words," said Baker " and don't interrupt me again, or, perhaps you won't have the opportunity of seeing anything of the goods, much less the sharing." f' A fter the Slasher had listened to a long story abont a young woinan in a large frame, who had run away and broke the last landlord's heart through marrying a first cousin, a poor lieutenant, we came away. I couldn't, however, help noticing the picture; Miss Margaret Rodwell, as they called her, she was so wonder- fujly ] j| te a girl that used to come here once or twice; I never saw giacj} a likeness in my life." " Nor I," said Ruckman, " I was regularly doubled up by it; when I went through the room at night I thought she would have walked out of the picture after me. I told the Slasher of it to- night, and he turned as white as a boiled turnip, and told ine to hold my tongue, and never to mention who I thought the picture was like again, or it might bring a dozen people into trouble." Vhy, who ter devil vos it like?" exclaimed the Jew with con- siderable asperity; " d— n ter picture, vot's it to do vith us; vhere's ter Slasher, and vhere's ter portmanteau vith ter swag, ( property); that's more consequence tome than all ter piotures; they von't pay ine for ma ready money that I've laid out of my pocket." " The Slasher's taken the portmanteau with him," answered Biker, " and intends melting down all the swag himself, for he says its very dangerous." The eyes of tiie Jew glistened with rage as he heard this de- claration, supposing himself to be cheated, and exclaimed— " Dangerous bed— d; vhy's it more dangerous this job than any other? I s'jipsse you vos afraid to trust me to pot ( melt) this lot." " I tell you its doubly dangerous," whispered Baker. " The Slasher said that as Charley had noticed the likeness in the pic- ture, he might blow the gaff to her." " Mishamer- ' hemer 011 the picture,'' shrieked, rather than spoke the Jew, " I shall lose ma understanding with you presently; who is the picture like, and vhat has it to do wit this?" " Its the likeness of the woman Mrs. Margaret Spinks," was the answer." [ To be continued.] that ( 1— d beetch, Hannah, been gone gone all this time vith the young voman vhat vas here a little vhile ago." " Nothing like being careful, you know," said Baker, uncocking the pistol and replacing it in his jiocket; " however, as I told you Charley paid his fare to Boxmoor, and then walked on to Berk- hamstead, that's just three miles and a- half; I got out at Tring, six miles farther down the line, walked back three mile and a- half, and met Charley; I then put on the black wig and whis- kers and a smock- frock over my sailor's togs ; Charley took off his red wig and covered himself in tho macintosh, so when wc booked ourselves from Berkhampstead to Birmingham, by the second class, we looked two very different coves from the chaps that were booked down from London three hours before. That's the way to do the electric telegraph kiddeys with all their know- FRAGMENT. I dreamed. It was night. Methought I was on a battle- field tlie dead and dying were scattered around ; thousands were press- ing onward in pursuit of the fast- retreating foe,' when I was sud- denly seized bv some powerful arm. I turned to draw my sword, but I was assailed ns if a thousand darts were pricking my body. I writhed beneath their sting, but I was held down. I resisted, but in vain, when an unearthly light gleamed upon me, and I be- held myself in the presence of a diabolical crew of fiends, whose darts still galled me; their horrid grimaces terrified me; I gave one last struggle, and— 0, horror!— I awoke, and found ' twas my old woman hunting the fleas ! * It, is only within the last few hours come to the knowledge of the Detective, that this plan is now adopted after a robbery. The thieves booking themselves for a short distance, and then, by nrior arrangement, getting out and changing their dresses. 3 COCK AND HEN CLUBS. THE MACCLESFIELD ARMS, CITY- ROAD.— BEN. DUDLEY. Few, very few, who are acquainted with the City- road, and the bridge that crosses it, but must remember that, situated immedi- ately at the corner of Charles- street, Goswell- street Road, is the above hostelrie, kept by perhaps one of the best- hearted, honestly- inclined, straightforward fellows that ever drew a cork. Ben Dudley, onr host, has, for a considerable period, been celebrated for singing a good song, and his house on Monday evenings is largely patronised by both sexes. It was with this knowledge our shade visited the place on Monday last. We found the room ex- cessively crowded, the company being the flower of the London ehopocracy. There were, seated in pot- house pride, the gentle creatures who do the elegant over ribbon and sarsenets in the day- time, with their lady loves togged out in immense finery, listening to their vapid nonsense, aud inhaling the smoke of their cigars, whilst grocers' assistants, with large vermillion- tinted mawleys, and nails defying the most powerful combinations of soap and water, dro- sed up, to quote the expression pf the late Burke, " to the nines," lolled upon the seats in company with bonnet builders and stay constructors, positively sweltering under loads of Lowther- Arcade jewellery; indeed, it is many, very many years since we have witnessed such a glorious realization of the old author's— " ' Prentice boy, and city snob, In Sunday togs, but scarce a bob, Who puff cigars, and ape their betters, Happy and free from shop- board fetters.*' A tall fellow, with one eye, short- coated, and a French hat, par- ticularly amused us; seated in the far corner to the right of the entrance from the door, he took infinite pains to let every person know he had a spring hat, flapping it up and down, and calling attention to the circumstance of what a beautiful spring it had ; this eigantic snob was accompanied by a woman whom he con- tinued to press to have " a habernethy biskit like a deer," till the girl, observing we were quizzing hitn, quietly " shut him up," by telling him " not to make himself ridiculous." When we entered the room, two gentlemen, brothers, were giving " All's Well," and well would it have been for one of them, the youngest Master Davis as he was called, if they had left off there, for the duet was very well done. In the course of the evening a Mr. Bedford gave a reading from William Tell, in a style which evidenced he was acquainted with and thoroughly understood his author; there was none of that ridiculous mouthing, or attempt at rant, which usually accompany public- house recitations. It was very nicely given, and we regretted exceedingly that he was not called upon io recite another. Mr. Davis, sen., one of the duetizers, then sang, with railroad velocity, " The Heart Bowed Down," and a stranger would have imagined it was one of Charles Mathews's patter- songs. Davis has a tolerable voice, but time was com- pletely set at defiance; and upon patting on his hat at the con- clusion he smoked like a jaded horse from over exertion. During the whole time that we had been in the room, a species of running fire had been kept up in the shape of calls for a " Mr. Hagan to oblige ;" this was eventually followed by a man, seated near the door, who had evidently laid himself out to be called upon to sing, after a deal of ridiculous toadyism, in the shape | of press- ing, burs: ing forth in very common- place style with an effusion. H" W people can so far stultify themselves we are at a loss to un- derstand ; we repeat that this man had, beyond the possibility of a doubt, visited the room for the express purpose of being requested to sing, and the disappointment would have been double to him if he had not been called upon. Satisfied we were correct in our opinion we left the room for a short time, and upon our return found the place in a perfect ecstacy, at the announcement of a Master Davis for the next song. This young gentleman, a mere lad, and brother to the Davis with the railroad voice, then commenced, and gave, in a most affected manner, " I'm sitting on the Stile, Mary;" now if the young lady alluded to possessed the smallest particle of common sense, he ought to have been made to sit there for ever, or at least till he could speak his mother tongue. His singing consisted of a series of rouladet, runs, and cadences, quite out of place in a ballad, but given with a gushing, pumped- up aspiration, that was intended, no doubt, / or deep feeling, but which sounded like the hissing of a serpent. We should not have noticed the young gentleman at all, but for the pnppyish, inflated airs he was permitted to give himself by his brother. These things are disgusting to men, and we are at a loss to understand what Mr. Dudley could be about to permit a boy so to conduct himself. The brother, Mr. Davis, sen., cannot be a parent, or he would know better than to drag a lad about to public- bouses, and keep him out till midnight, merely for the purpose of gratifying the paltry desire of " showing off," and doing the " lion" on a small scale. K the boy is to be a singer, and with care and abstaining from drink and late hours, he would make a very good one, let him practice at his own house, and not annoy a whole company of men. For although he was permitted to go through a ballad, which he intended for Balfe's " You'll remember me," rest assured, Dudley, all in your room, who had the thoughts and feelings of men, were any thing but pleased at being forced to associate with a boy. We shall attend the meeting next Monday, and see if this infliction is again put upon the company. THE TOWN POST- BAG. No. I. < t- From Professor Holloway to the Earl of Aldborough, Italy. MY DEAR FRIEND— I hav sent you a Quantity of the ' infment and a Trifull, cos you says you're so hard up, as Know no doubt you'll be able 2 turn the ' intment into Money. I wish you'd rite me a letter which I kan put in the Mornin ' Tizur, for People be- . gins to hask what you does so Long from this here plaice, and that There is know such A person, and Also ow it his you dus'nt Come home. T. HOLLOWAY. From Charles Freer, Tragedian and Publican, to W. Batty, Esq., Astley's. ILLUSTRIOUS SIR— When in the streets of that country, whose people have liberty on the lip, but slavery in the heart, I mean America, I heard that the children of my fatherland had opened the galleries of the temples of the drama for threepence. Shoeless, shirtless, and wanting shaving, I vowed, in the bitterness of dra- matic desperation, I, at least, would never again tread their boards. Time has, however, changed me ; and since that I have appeared at almost a dooltey ( the Britannia Saloon). No matter for that; even Lysandar Thompson, with all his scheming, is there. I feel, however, assured that yon are cognizant, by this time, of my name, and must have also heard of my fame as an actor. I shall not take the trouble of saying a word as to my powers, farther than that I can rant louder than Hicks, whine better than Lyons, drawl longer than Saville, and swear occasion- ally quite as well as Tom Barry. I am now entirely dependent on the City of Carlisle wine and spirit- vaults, for an existence for myself and two wives and family. As, however, it does not exactly suit my pocket to be " at home, morning, noon, and night," ( see my bill), I think I might be useful to you. I know something of shoeing of horses, and, with the assistance of Madame F—, and one or two other ladies, al- though rather old for such work, think I could do a little in the riding way. I should have no objection to come over and do the leading business for two ami twenty shillings a- week, and ono half- clear benefit, and a ticket- night alter the run of the Christ- mas pantomime I can do at this figure, because there is not much study required at your house; and, between you and I, I must get a situation somewhere, or all the custom will drop off from my place, for people don't like coining to a public- house that's kept by a left- of!' actor. Please send me an answer by return of post, and direct ' Charles Freer, Tragedian, Carlisle Arms' Tavern, Shoreditch ;" mind put tavern, as it will do me some good. If you will stamp the letter with your Astley's seal, it will greatly oblige, as show- ing to some of the visitors that the profession have not yet quite forgotten CHARLES FREER. From Lady Mansfield, Newcastle- court, Strand, to Thomas Scrivener, butcher, Clare- market. SIR— I have heard so much talk about your meat, and having tried both Price and Johnson without getting anything like a bellyful, I am determined to give you a turn. Black Jenny tells me she got a nice cut under the rump from your man the other evening ; that's more than I can get from Vaughan. However, be particular in sending me a good article, no clods or stickings, mind; I can't stomach anything of the kind, perhaps you'll give me a call, recollect my terms of doing business is ready money prior to the delivery of the meat. If you come yourself, bring an article that's been well hang. MANSFIELD. P. S.— I perceive that Carr, the fishmonger, has opened a shop in your line, I think he has got a very queer looking concern; his cod was very fine last winter, but his meat now seems poor, skinny shrivelled stuff, and would never suit my fireplace. From Joseph Dove Franks, Esq., T. R. Sadler's Wells, to Mr. Paternoster, Nag's Head, Leather Lane. SIR— I have considered your proposition relative to coming to our theatre as a Super, and know perfectly well you have some properties by you, which, of course, you would have no objection to lend me when I acts, which is not often, as I thinks Marston is jealous of me. You say I manage the thing here still very idy, of course I does, there's little of the fool in JOE FRANKS. From George Kent, ci- denant Penny- a- liner, Westminster Police Court, to Robert Kennett, Hoop and Grapes, Queen Square. DEAR BOB— I am in an orrid stew; would you believe it, that little wretch, Edwards, has got drunk and lost two folios of my flim- sey; there's a fearful ro> v at the Times. Suppose they refuse my ; opy in future, the bare idea is agonizing. They said I was a very clever man at watery articles, but my English was , oh, the thought is terrible, I can't write it ; I knows I was only a news- boy originally, but what of that; I'll go and consult Grady upon the subject, and then see you in the evening in the bar parlour. Your's, & c., G. KENT. From T. Smith, Two Sawyers, Lambeth Walk, to Mr. H. Lewis, Comedian, Standard Theatre. SIR— If you can make it convenient to attend any time before five on Tuesday next, my Missis will be prepared to make amatch with your good lady ( Miss E. TerreV) for weight, size, and quality Yours, & c., T. SMITH. P. S.— Allowance to sink the offal subject to future agreement. [ Answers to the whole of these letters in our next. J THE OLD WHISTLE. APTElt MISS ELIZA COOK. On, dear to me still are the scenes of my childhood, The objects I sought in my brown pinafore; The hips and the haws, and the nuts in the wild wood, The gipsies, and all that I've sung of before ; But dearer than all— aye, than first love's epistle, Which breathes of the vows fond affection beguiled— Is the plaything of girlhood— the flute- fashioned whistle, The old yellow whistle I blew when a child. At a fair in our village for twopence I bought it, How cheaply our pleasures were all purchased then! From morning till night how my eager lips sought it, The pride of one heart, but the envy of ten. My spirit's as light as the down on the thistle, I let my lips prattle their own " wood notes wild," Thus blowing off care as I blew through the whistle, The old yellow whistle I blew when a child. Since then, oh ! how changed an; the feelings we cherished, The visions of worlds made of Elecampane : The fresh burst of fancy with girlhood has perished, And wealth will not buy us the treasure again. The monk in his cell may brood over his missal, The hermit may dream of the world lie reviled ; But oh, for remembrance, give me but the whistle ! The old yellow whistle I blew when a child. YOU DON'T WANT A FIRE IN MAY. The other evening, having been writing rather late, and feeling somewhat weary, we determined to give up our work, take our usual magnum of warm with, smoke a cigar, read the the morn- ing's paper, and go to bed ; but on turning round from our writing- table, we beheld a black and cheerless grate— the fire had gont out. On ringing the bell for it to be re- lighted, we were informed that the servanthad gone out so we determined to go out too. Down we accordingly, sauntered to your publisher's. " Cold night, Mr. Winn; got afire?" " What, a fire in May ! nonsense," responded the invulnerable distributor of our immaculate broad sheet. It is no go here, thought we, so we determined to mingle with the lares of some licensed publican; but in this intention we were also disappointed, for after calling at five different houses we were actually obliged to return home and cause our own fire to be lit, because none of the publican's had none. " You don't want a fir< in May, sir," said the girl at one house, and that, no doubt, was; the landlord's opinion at. each of them ; but we beg leave to tell these very precise almanack- studying people, that we do want fires in May, and June too, when the evenings are dull and the weather unsettled, and that they cannot be guilty of a more un- profitable piece of stinginess than not to light one, even if it be only for their customers to look at. Now, there are a great many obtuse, matter- of- fact, utilitarian, unsocial, and unenjoying indi viduals who have no notion that there is any gratification in hav- ing a fire except on account of the heat it distributes. They can not conceive what you want with one unless you are actually cold they have no idea that it is an enlivening object, and is, in fact, always wanted, unless the weather De so warm as to render its heat positively unpleasant Besides, jin a country like our's, where the winter never really ends till July, and where the greatest comfort which an Englishmen has is his fire- side, it is a positive necessary of life, one of those things which are as material to his mental, if not his bodily enjoyment, as proper food and clothing For our own part— and we know many people of the same tem- perament— we consider a fire to be an admirable in- door substitute for the cheerful brilliancy of sunshine, and are never positively contented without either one or the other— on a cold day we want it to warm us, and on a dull one to cheer us— something beyond mere matter- of- fact utility; upon the same principle that our readers would be discontented with the most solid and sensible articles we could write, if, after all, they had in them no fire— that lively and attractive glitter which cheers the mind through the medium of the senses. We advise onr publicans to consider this matter. A STRANGE ANSWER.— A shoemaker of the name of Burton, who had lately married a widow with some little estate, offered himself as bail at the Court of Session, at New York, for a pri- soner. " Arc you worth 1,000 dollars above all your debts?" inquired the Recorder. " Why, sir," answered the man, " my wile was a widow before she married me, and she then had a very snug little affair of her own ; but since I have put my property 0u it, it's become one of as large concerns as ^ ny in the country." A SCENE IN A CHURCH. There is always some fun to be seen at this period of the year in the churches about the suburbs of the metropolis, as it is there that marriages are done at a very low figure; and, consequently, coves go there on Mondays in droves. A few Mondays since, we had occasion to call at one of these establishments," about a mile from Whitechapel- gate, for the purpose of searching for a register, which having done, we were informed by a minor ecclesiastic, id est, the beadle, that if we stayed a little while we should see a stunning lark. Thinking we might pick up some fun for our immortal sheet, we placed our fundamentality on a seat near the communion; shortly after which, there was an immense gathering of singularly constructed swells, and queerly decorated damsels, all on the marriage suit. The gents were rolled up in very showy toggery, with very heavy hoof- cases; the girls blazing away in all the finery of the talley shop. After waiting some little time, an obese piece of humanity, encased in a sparrow- tailed blue coat, and wearing a stupendous shirt collar, ditto tight hat, made his way up to the vestry door, accompanied by a sharp- visaged, hatchet- shaped lady ( just the mug for a row). The woman looked Chili vinegar at every one she met, and her irritation was considerably increased by being pulled back every minnte by a short fat woman with patten's, who exclaimed, " Havey, s'help my cat, I can't walk so fast." The thin woman gave the fat cove a shove in the vicinity of his dickey, and then knocked at the door of the vestry. The door was opened by instalments, and a fat face inquired, " What's your business, ma'am." " His Susan Swaggerduff hin here? cos if she his, she's my darter." This query was put very forte. " The name's familiar to me," said the clerk, rather more piano; " I'll look." " Tell the young brimstone, if she his there, that her mother's looking for her," continued th? mild lady. The beadle tipped us the wink, and muttered, " Here's a go;" and immediately afterwards, a thick- set little lady insinuated her- self out of the vestry door, followed by a long, sickly- looking cove, in a sky- blue stock and very dirty hands. " Yon imperdent faggot," shrieked the maternal creature, shaking the girl till the flowers fell out of her chip straw bonnet on the church matting ; " you wanted to be married, does you? And you, you shivering, snivelling, snotty- nosed snob, you thought to hook it with my kid, did yer," said the fat man, seiz- ing the thin youth by the front of the stock, and exposing a very shickery shirt; " but we've nailed you, has ve!" This was fol- lowed by another pull, and the stock was in the hands of the fat father. " You ought to know better," said the lady with the pattens; " a boy like you!" Miss Swaggerdnff appeared perfectly stunned at the change in her situation, but at length exclaimed, " Oh ! aunt, I couldn't help it." " Ah, you ungrateful hussey," replied the mother, " to talk like that ! Who's to attend to the tripe and the paunches, and the heads at night, ifyou leave us ?" This was followed by a burst of tears, and symptoms of a faint, when the beadle stepped up, and suggested the propriety of their settling thejr differences outside, upon which the aunt immediately observed she felt very faint, and should like " a drop o' summit," and all five proceeded up the aisle, and upon gaining the exterior, evaporated into the adjacent gin- shop. We subsequently learned that the whole party got what is classically termed, " immensely moppy," and the matter being " squared," the next morning Miss Swaggerdnff changed her name to Stiggins. A DIALOGUE IN TOTHILL STREET, WESTMINSTER. We often, whilst passing the low localities with which the great metropolis abound, pause to listen to the conversation of the in- habitants. The other day we heard the following in the above neighbourhood. " Norah, come now, me darlint; see now ; and haven't I pitched the pepper- and- salt coat to the divil, and got a bit o blue to the foro, a mighty dale better than new ? See, Norah ; may be I'm clane and dacent, and fit to trate your own beautiful self to the noggin o' whiskey. Come, now, Norah, dear, and doan't be afther thinking about the philandering Munster man, Mike Sul- livan." " Sure, thin, and you wouldn't say that to the face of Mike," replied Norah. " By the blessin' of Father Tivolter, thin," rejoined Patrick, " I'd say the like, if iwery divil's mother, broder, and sisther was there; and if the spalpeen looked at yer beautiful silf, widout fus* axing my lave, I'd bate him, till sich times as I left off." " Mighty fine words," said Norah laughingly, and the couple turned into the grog- shop, and assisted their tender sentiments with a noggin of rank rum ; and thither, from irrepressible curio- sity did we follow them. Norah leaned her back against a cask, and Patrick tenderly urged his suit. " Don't bother so," said Norah. " But I can't help mesilf," replied Patrick. " May yer mind be aisy, me jewel; ounly be the darlint wife of Patrick Mulrooney the brave Connaught boy, stannin afore ye, and ye'll always have yer ' nuff' mate every day, wid the taters, barrin Friday, as many noggins as ye like to thrink, and the divil secure to mesilf, if the likes if me ever conthradiets when yer hone beautiful silf doan't spake a word to me, and may be I'll git a place under govern- ment." " Under what?" said Norali. " Under government," replied Patrick: " may be I'll be a po- lishman, and, may be, git promotion. Say the word, Norah, say the word. What's that big he- divil starin' at? Do you know him, Norah?" " Oh," said Norah, " its only Denis Rooney, as trated me to a new comb last Easter." " The divil he did," roared Patrick; " thin, may be, I'll be afther thratin him." In spite of entreaties off came Patrick's blue Sunday coat, and flinging it on the floor, he looked Denis Rooney savagely in the face, and screamed out— " Hare me, now; who dare thread on that coat? who dare thread on that coat f " May be mesilf," said Denis, " barrin' you doan't take the darty rag away yer own silf." " Ah hoo, ah hoo," yelled Patrick, and at it the rivals went. Norah screamed lustily ; and being ourselves of a peaceable dis- position, we left the Milesian lovers hugging each other with all the affection of enraged bears. THE LAY OF THE LAST LUCIFER. My lovely one, my lovely one, thou solace of the night! I cannot choose but speak to thee before I strike a light; How oft from thy companions have I gleaned the social spark, And if I lose thee, last of all, I flounder in the dark! Then shall I lightly press thy tip against the sanded card ? Oh, no ! thou well hast earned a lyric tribute from thy bard. My lucifer, my lovely one, no lecture need I dread, From thee, though morning's dawn as well might light me up to bed; As silent as the latch- key which has been my constant mate, I fear no fierce reproach from thee for coming home so late. Then shall I lightly urge thy tip against the card of sand ? Oh, no ! tliou art the last, and I temptation must withstand. My lovely one, my luci— stop, I'm fumbling for a chair, I o'er the table pass my hands, and feel a letter there. I'lie size, the seal, they both reveal it is from Caroline, She promised me, I know, this night to say if she'd be mine. Now, now, I want thee, lucifer, to save me from all doubt Wilis 1 Fizz! Pop ! Alt, confusion— My last lucifer's gone out! 4 THE TOWN. 3 Noticc to CorrceycnDcute. PETER CLIPPIT, BIRMINGHAM.— This correspondent could scarce- ly oxpectus to insert a paragraph which, although but of twenty lines, would have taken us an hour to decipher ; write on a respectable piece of paper, and on one side, and we will attend to you. II. B. ( Commercial Road East)— We would rather not interfere in the matterat present; if, however, the old man holds a situa- tion on the OBSERVER, and is in a good way of business, sue him at once in the Palace Court, but we should advise the County Court first, it is less expense; you can but adopt the foMner afterwards. C. G. H. ( Sun Tavern, Grey's Inn Lane)— We don't know who the boy is who dresses as a groom and trots after that " impu- dent brazen- faced minx, Miss Rosier," and what is more we don't care; if he is in any employ, his master should look after him. Perhaps the TOWN may let him know who and what Miss (?) Rosier is— and why her HUSBAND ! cut her so soon after he left the church. J. P. ( High St., Edinburgh)— Your letter and parcel came safe, but we have had no time to write. Write again, but never mind the play- bills, we have them regularly. CHAFFER, THE BROKER, of St. John's- row, Hoxton, has, doubt- less, his own reasons for so positively refusing to let the tenants know the name of the owner of the property, as his insolent demeanour to them, might probably, if known, put an end to his office of collector of the rents. If any of our correspondents will ascertain the name and address, we may, perhaps, tell a very laughable tale about the little broker and the naughty woman wot lived, about five months back, at No. 2 " Let go of my Shirt— I'm a married man— I'll call the police." M. M. M. ( Chester)— Not unless authenticated by Mr. H., as it might be injurious to his house. The party you allude to is not connected with this paper. D. A. B.— Your verses on Draper's, The Globe, Hatton Garden, would make above 2 columns ; they are left for you to revise or put into prose— who's the Dwarf?— put names in full. SMITH'S, BOOK- BINDERS, ( Long Acre).— We are tired " of poetry unless it is short and humorous; your's upon " Alf. Rodwell Turning Tee- total," are pointless. R. M. P. ( Crown and Mitre Inn, Carlisle)— Received with thanks — not likely this year— send your address and we will write to you. AMICUS ( Lower Tooting)— Nonsense, nonsense; your letter is full of wishy- washy sentimentality— we repeat, that they do not rob and beat men in brothels now— such things occurred twenty years since. You have been reading a work published by Home in 1827, called " London after Dark." When such cases do occur, it's in the very lowest threepenny brothels, where only the very lowest would think of going. We defy you to give us a case of the kind within the last ten years. We know of " the liocussing in the Almonry," that's three years since ; but what decent man would go to such a place. If a stranger was robbed and beaten in any brothel in London, the police would be in the next morning, and the parties taken into custody. Read " The Report before a Committee of the House of Com- mons on Juvenile Prostitution in 1848," and " The Statistics of Crime," by Professor Holroyd, 1848, before you again write such nonsense. G. THOMAS ( Royal Standard, Vauxhall)— You have given yourself a deal of trouble about nothing— as the article does not, nor cannot apply to you; you are too decent a fellow to permit anything of the kind; we will give you a call as you desire. II. T. EVANS.— You must be a flat to suppose we can send three TOWNS for three postage stamps. Think,' think, my child, before you again madly commit yourself by rushing into pen and ink. 4 SUBSCRIBER ( Liverpool).— Write a letter marked private, the exact copy of the one you sent us, i. « ., the same questions, di- rected, G. W. M. Reynolds, 7, Wellington- street, Strand, London, and be kind enough to favour us with the result. ISLINGTONIAN.— It is an extraordinary circumstance, but the Editor of this journal originally reported the affair in New Mill- man- street, that you allude to. It appeared in the Morning Post about four years and a half since; but most distinctly do we wish you to understand that it did not apply in the remotest degree to the family you mention. We know Harry well— who are you ?— where will a letter reach you, you may depend upon us. A RACY ONE— Your jokes may do all very well at 2 in. the morn- ing at the Coal- Hole, where low bawdy filth passes for wit. MEMOIR OE A SUCCESSFUL ERENCH LADY OE FASHION. ( Continued from our last.) I entered the guardian's lodge, and inquired of him if, on the 22nd of February, a woman named Marguerite Gautier was not buried at Pere la Chaise? The man turned over the pages of a large book, in which are numbered and inscribed all those who enter this last asylum, and he replied to me, that in fact, on the 22d of February, about midday, a woman of this name had been interred. I requested him to conduct me to the tomb, for there are no ineaijs of recognising one without a guide in this city of the dead. The guardian called to a gardener, to whom he gave the necessary indications, and who interrupted him by saying— " I know, I know. Oh! the tomb is very easily recognised," he continued, turning towards me. " Why ?" I said to him. " Because it has flowers very different from the others." " Is it you who look after it?" " Yes, sir, and I wish that all relations took as much care of the dead as the young man who confided this one to me." After a few turns, the gardener stopped and said tome, " There it is." In fact, I saw beneath my eyes a bed of flowers, which I should never have taken for a tomb, if a marble slab, bearing the name of the deceased, had not proved it. The slab was placed upright, an iron trellis work bounded the purchased ground, and this ground was covered with white camelias. " What do you say to that, sir ?" inquired the gardener. " It has a very beautiful appearance." " And every time that a camelia fades, I have orders to renew it." " And who gave you this order?" " A young man, who wept greatly the first time he came here; no doubt a former admirer of the deceased, for it appears that the latter was a gay one. They say she was very pretty. Did you know her, sir?" " Yes." " Like the other?" said the gardener to me, with a cunning smile. " No; I never spoke to her." " Aad you are come to see her here? ' Tis very kind on your part, for those who come to visit the poor girl do not encumber the cemetery." " No one comes then?" " No one, except the young man who came here once." " Once only!" " Yes, sir." " And he has not visited the tomb since?" ' " No, but he will come again on his return." " Is he travelling then?" " Yes." " And do you know where he is?" " He is, I believe, at the house of Mademoiselle Gaulier's sister." ... f,: . " And what is he doing there ?'' " He is gone to demand an authority to disinter the deceased, to bury her in another place." " Why does he not allow her to rest here?" " You know, sir, that as to the departed, we have all some pe- culiar ideas. We, who attend these places, see this every day. This ground is only purchased for five years, and the young man wishes to have a grant in perpetuity, and a larger piece of ground; in the new quarter it will be better." " What do you call the new quarter?" " The new ground they are now selling, on the left of the statue ofCasimer Perier. If the cemetery had always been kept as it is now, there would not be such another in the world; but there is still much to be done before it is completely as it ought to be. And then people are so strange!" " What do you mean?" " I mean that there are persons who are proud, even in the grave. Thus, this girl Gautier, it appears, led a gayish sort of life— excuse me the expression. Now the poor girl is dead, and there remains of her as much as of those of whom there is nothing to be said, and whose graves we water every day ; well, when the relations of the persons who are buried by her side, learnt who she was, they took it into their heads to oppose her being placed there, and said, that there ought to be ground set apart for those sort of women as for the poor! Did you ever hear of such a thing? I very bluntly relieved them ; fat and jolly fellows, who do not come here four times a- year to visititheir departed, who bringtheir flowers themselves, and what flowers, too; and who pretend to a conversa- tion with those whom, they say, they mourn, who inscribe on their tombs the tears they have never Bhed; and who come and make objections to those who lie next them. You may believe me, if you like, sir, I did not know this girl, I know not what she lias done. Well, I love this poor little thing, and I look after her, and I obtain camelias for her at the best prioe. She is my chosen de- parted. We attendants are bound to love the dead, for we are so occupied that we have scarcely the time to love anything else." I looked at this man, and some of my readers will conceive, without the necessity of explaining it to them, the pleasure I ex- perienced in listening to him. He remarked it, no doubt, for he continued:— " They say there were men who ruined themselves for this girl, and that she had lovers who adored her. Well, when I think there is not one of them who even purchases a flower for her, it is this that appears no less sad than curious. But then, she has nothing to complain of, for she has her tomb, and if there is but one who re- members her, he does for all. But we have here poor girls of the same class, and of the same age, who are thrown into the grave common to all, and it cuts me to the heart when I hear their poor bodies fall to the earth, and not a soul troubles himself about them when they are dead. The trade we follow is not always a gay one, especially, as long as any feeling remains to us. What would you? ' tis stronger than I am. I have a handsome grand daughter of twenty years, and when a corpse of her own age is brought here, I think of her, and whether it is a grand lady or a vagabond, I cannot help being moved at it. But I weary you, no donbt, with my histories, and it was not to listen to them that you came here. I was told to conduct you to the tomb of Made- moiselle Gautier; you see it; can I be of any use to you ?" " Do you know the address of M. Armand Duval?" I inquired of the man. " Yes, he lives in the Rue de ; it is there at least that I go to receive the price of the flowers you see." " Thank you, my friend," I said to the gardener. I gave a last look at this flowered tomb, the depths of which, despite myself, I would have sounded to see what the earth had made of that beautiful creature they had thrown to it, and I re- tired in a reverie. " Does Monsieur wish to seeM. Duval?" resumed the gardener who walked at my side. " Yes." " It is that I am quite sure he is not yet returned, or, otherwise, I should have already seen him here." " You are, then, quite convinced he has not forgotten the poor girl?" " Not only am I convinced of it, but I will wager that this wish to change the tomb is but a wish to see her once more." " How so ?" " The first words he said to me on visiting the cemetery, were, ' How am I to proceed in order to see her?' It was then that I told him this could only take place by changing the tomb, and I ap- prized him of all the ceremonnies to be gone through to obtain this change; for you know that to transfer the dead from one tomb to another, they must be recognised, and the family alone can autho- rise this operation, at which a commissaire of police must preside. It was to obtain this authority that M. Duval is gone to the sister of Mademoiselle Gautier, and his first visit will evidently be to us." We had arrived at the door of the cemetery; I again thanked the gardener, placing some money in his hand, and I repaired to the address he had given me. Armand had not returned. I left word with him to come and see me on his arrival, or to inform me where I could find him. I returned home, agitated with the thousand impressions pro- duced in me by my visit to the cemetery, and the determination taken by Armand to have Marguerite disinterred, a sad ceremony, at which, with that thirst for violent emotions, felt by every man, I promised myself to be present. The next morning I received a note from M. Duval, informing me that he had arrived at Paris, and begging me to call upon him, adding that he was exhausted with fatigue, and that it was im- possible for him to go out. An hour afterwards I knocked at his door. In fact, I found Armand in his bed. On seeing me, he pre- sented me his burning hand, which I pressed. " You are in a fever," I said to him, taking a seat at his bed- side. " It will be nothing," he replied, " the fatigue of a rapid jour- ney, nothing more." " You are arrived from Marguerite's sister?" " Yes; who told you so?" " I know it, and you have obtained what you desired?" " Yes; but who informed you of the journey, and the object 1 had in making it ?" " The gardener of Pere- la- Chaise." " You have seen the tomb ?" I scarcely dared to reply, for the tone of this question proved to me that he who asked it was still a prey to the emotions I had been a witness of, and that every time his own thoughts, or the voice of another threw him back to the painful subject that brought him to Paris, this emotion would still sometimes betray the will he opposed to it in vain. I contented myself, therefore, by replying with a sign of the head. " He has taken great care of it?" continued Arnoand. " Yes." Two large tears rolled down the cheeks of the sufferer, who turned away his head to hide them from me. I appeared not to notice them, and endeavoured to change the conversation. " It is now three weeks since you left," I said to him. Armand passed his hand across his eyes, and replied to me— " Exactly three weeks." " Your journey has been a long one." " Ah ! I have not been travelling all the time," he added," I was ill " or full a fortnight, but for which I should have returned long since; but scarcely had I arrived there than the fever seized me, and I was compelled to keep my room." " A:. id you set out on your return before you were quite re- covered ?" " If I had remained another week in the country, I should have died there.' " But now that you are returned, you must take care of your- self; your friends will come and sec you, and I, the very first, if | you will permit me to." " In two hours I shall get up." " What imprudence!" " It must be so." " What have you to do, then, so pressing?" " I must go to the commissaire of police." ( To be continued.) CHARLES SLOMAN' s STAR SONGSTER.— We hail with sincero pleasure from the pen of that popular favourite Mr. Charles Sloman, ( the only English Improvisatore), No. 1 of a song- book bearing the above title, knowing, as we do, the talent, genius, and thought pos- sessed by this gentleman, we felt assured that nothing could emanate from him of a trivial character; the work before us bears out the observation. It is neatly, very neatly got up, and does not contain five hundred songs in small and scarcely readable type, printed on tea paper, and consequently dear at any price, but a well- arranged collection, containing numerous original communications by the editor. Let Mr. Sloman, however, speak for himself; in his preface he says— " Kind Public, I have been so long before you, and have received so many favours at your hands, that, for myself, I would not crave anything, but for this little work I will— give it your sup- port— I will strive that it shall be deserving of it. I will not spare research to make it the most complete collection of the present times. I shall ksep up a continued supply of original mate- rial from my own pen, and should feel obliged by receiving assistanca in this department from correspondents, whose communications will receive every attention. Let not, then, our " Star " wane dim for a lack of patronage, and rely upon the deeply impressed grati- tude of the public's ever faithful servant, CHARLES SLOMAN. 15, Craven Buildings, Drury- lane, London. IMPORTANT TO THE PUBLIC. The Re- issue of 1 & 2 is now ready, with a splendid new engra- ving, and we wish it to be distinctly understood, that all the back numbers will be reprinted, as we are having them stereotyped. No. 3 is in the course of preparation, and will be ready next week. NOTICE TO THE TRADE. Persons finding any difficulty in obtaining " THE TOWN," at the East end of London, can be supplied from CAFFYN, Oxford- street, Mile- end; COLE, Bedford- street, Commercial- road, East and REYNOLDS, 25, Church- road, St. George's, East, where a good stock of back numbers are always kept on hand. TO ADVERTISERS: Advertisements not exceeding 10 lines, single insertion,.. 4 0 Every additional line, .. .. 3 A liberal allowance on several insertions. All advertisements must be sent to the Office on Thursday at the latest. TIT- BITS FOR GENTLEMEN. EIGHT SPICY PLATES, a la Erangaise, One Shilling Post- paid, Is. 6d. SPICE NUTS, a charming collection of delicious pictures for Bachelors' parties, Is.; post- paid, Is. 6d BEAUTY OF WOMAN, six coloured French plates, by Dizier' 3s. 6d. PRETTY GIRLS OF LONDON, twelve engravings' splendidly coloured, 10s. 6d.; postage, Is. 6' d. JULIA ; or, I've Saved My Rose, coloured plates, 10s. 6d.; postage, Is. COAL- HOLE SONGSTERS, Is. each. W. JOHNS, 35, Holywell- street, Strand. JUST PUBLISHED, THE CONFESSIONS OK A FOOTMAN; or, The Adventures of a Valet. With the Lives, Amours, and In- trigues of the Graces of Hertford. A Neat Little Pocket Volume. Price 2s. 6d., post free, 3s. Eleventh Edition, Price 3d., or post- free for four stamps, rpEN SECRETS FOR GENTS, concerning X a universal but most perplexing Article of Dress, contain- ing full instructions for its satisfactory arrangement, with appro- priate Diagrams, and upwards of thirty Illustrations. Also, price One Shilling, or post free, for eighteen postage stamps AV O L U M E OF SECRETS.' Containing tit bits for everybody, and threo hundred amus- ing and unique wrinkles on every possible subject. Price One Shilling, or post free, for sixteen stamps, SECRETS IN THE ART OF DRESS, including a Disser- tation upon every Article and Style of Attire, with full Practical Directions for improving the Figure and Appearance See., Sec. Price Sixpence, THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF SONG. Containing Two Hundred and Fifty of all the most popular Songs and Recitations. Price One Shilling, or post free for Sixteen Stamps. HOW TO GET MONEY; or, Six Ways of Making a Fortune. Now Publishing, the most extraordinary work ever published, complete, price One Penny, entitled NATURE'S WONDERS, as exemplified in the Extraordinary Contents of the Museum of the Col- lege of Surgeons, including Monstrosities, Malformations, and wonderful Lusus Naturae, together with Cases of Remarkable Disorders, & c., & c., profusely illustrated. London, S. COLLINS, 39, Holywell- street. HORROR! TERROR! HORROR! TERRIFIC RECORD. One Penny, Weekly. INTERESTING READING FOR ALL.— ALL FACTS. Nos. 1 to 14 now ready, and may be had of any bookseller in the kingdom. This is the largest and best Publication of the kind; contains Thirty- two closely printed columns, splendidly Illustrated. CAUTION.— This being larger than any publication of the sort, some few venders or publishers of small, paltry publications have answered it, " Not out," or " Out of Print.'' This is false; as every number is kept in priut, being stereotyped. rpHE HORRORS OF EMIGRATION, or the miseries, priva- 1 tions, and dangers endured in a strange country; murders and robberies, by the natives— fearful shipwrecks from rotten ships, Sic., & c., exposure of agents of emigration societies. Now Ready, complete for One Penny, PUNCH'S POCKET'TOAST- MASTER, FOR 1849: Being a Right Merry Guide to the pleasure party or the social board, and containing therein many wondrously witty sentiments, and most sententious sayings, droll allusitory allusions, and tonchingly tender toasts, with pretty couplets well fitted to please " The tender damsel, or the lusty dame; The burning lover, or the husband tame." Loyal, patriotic, naval and military toasts; sublime, philosophic, merry and pathetic sentiments, odd oddities, bacchanalian and punchianian ; with model speeches for model men. SECRETS FOR YOUNG MEN, OLD MEN, SINGLE MEN, 5IARKIED MEN. Price Cd.; post free, eight Stamps. An invaluable little work, giving rules by which all diseases can be cured without medical aid. " This is a useful little book, and should be possessed by every Englishman."— Public Press. Published by W. WINN, Holywell- street, Strand. Printed and published for the Proprietors by W. WINN, Holywell- street, Strand where all communications are to be addressed.
Ask a Question

We would love to hear from you regarding any questions or suggestions you may have about the website.

To do so click the go button below to visit our contact page - thanks