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The Town

01/01/1849

Printer / Publisher: W. Winn 
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 19
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The Town

Date of Article: 01/01/1849
Printer / Publisher: W. Winn 
Address: Holywell-street, Strand
Volume Number:     Issue Number: 19
No Pages: 4
Sourced from Dealer? No
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I » • L N 0. 19. j r^ WS^ ffi^ NPO. fftee! SI?. AD" 0"} PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. A CONFESSIONS OF A PICKPOCKET, ( Continued from No. 17.) I was obliged to go back for another pot of beer, poor Louisa's front being soaked through and through with wet. When we returned to Crown- court— for that, I now remember, was the name of the place Mrs. Murray lived in— she gave us a very re- spectable blowing up, and made some remarks, which, at the time, I thought very curious, about the state of Louisa's dress, observ- ing, amongst other things, that she Bhould have thought " Lew had had enough of the men, without wanting to lark with a boy." Whilst we were having our supper, which consisted of alamode- beef, procured from Johnson's, in Clare- court, then kept by Johnson, and the only house in London where it could be got, Mrs. Murray asked me a number of questions about my mother and father, concluding by asking me if I ever heard my mother talk about my aunt Martha. I told Mrs. Murray I had heard my mother speak of her very often, which was the truth; at the same time, I could not help wondering how this woman, a stranger, should know her. I hap- pened to say that my mother often wondered if her poor sister Martha was still alive, and Mrs. Murray, I noticed, wiped a tear from her eye, upon which Louisa observed, what " d— d nonsense itwasof her to begin to snivel," all of which I, of course, thought very strange. Nothing more was said, and 1 should have forgotten the matter altogether, but for aftor circumstances. I know it may be thought I am travelling a little away from my story, and leaving my flash companion a long time, but the events of this night had a great effect upon my after life, and the readers of the TOWN must therefore pardon this digression, as I trust the details will be sufficiently interesting to compensate for it. NAUGHTY NEI6HB0U During supper we heard a strange noise over head, as if from some one singing; presently a window was thrown , and fe- male voice burst forth with the following:— Little Poll's lost her man from famed Leicester- square, And old Mother Brown must soon shift her sticks; If this crib get's indicted we all shall look queer. And won't they flare- up at numbers four, five, and six. Ball- o'- wax may stand at the door with a light, Putting the court in a funk and a flnrry, But we'll batter his nob, and put him to flight, So hurra for a spree and game Mother Murray. " What's all this about?" inquired the captain. " Who's Ball- o'- wax, and who's Mother Brown?" " It's a regular lark,'' answered Mrs. Murray, laughing; " though I wish she'd be quiet, the drunken fool." " What's, a lark? d— n it, tell us all about it," said the captain. " First of all, who is it singing?" " It's a girl we call Maltey Mary, because she drinks such a heap of beer," replied Mrs. Murray. " You must know, this has become a* very naughty neighbourhood of late, and there is a psalm- singing old snorter lives over the way, who has complained of four or five of these houses. Mrs. Brown, whose girls are all decent souls, and never stir out till they go to the saloon, has been indicted; up to this evening, we had a long cove standing at the door with a lanthorn, and the words " beware of bad houses" upon it. I, however, got our landlady to give him a quart of bullock's- gall, which so frightened him, that his lanthorn caught fire. It just was a lark. Little Polly's servant was going to pawn * A l the period of which our correspondent is writing, Crown- court, like the two of the same name in Pickett- place and Fleet- street, were very " naughty neighbourhoods;" and we remember, about thirty years since, a number of flexible females being shot from a cart at Temple- bar- gate, by the common hangman, for keeping uncertain establishments in Crown- court.—( ED. TOWN.) the bellows for a drop of gin ( see cut), and got knocked down in the row, and, poor child, dreadfully cut with the bottle. This girl's noise, however, will alarm the whole parish, and I expect we shall get indicted next. I'll just go up stairs and speak to her." Mrs. MurrayRd not, however, do so, for, almost immediately afterwards, the window was slammed down, and all was silent. After this, the gentleman whom Mrs. Murray kept calling the Captain, got very larkish, taking Mrs. M. upon his knee, kissing her, and behaving in a very free and easy manner. I could see, however, that she did like it, and after some time the Captain, who was getting very drunk, said it was quite late enough for me to be in bed, a remark which I was not at all sorry to hear, for they having given me some gin and beer, I was getting the worse for it. Louisa had left the room shortly prior to this observation, and upon returning she told me that I could sleep very comfortable in the back parlour as she had made me up a very comfortable bed with cushions and pillows. Taking the candle, I went down stairs, and removing my shoes, jacket, and waistcoat, I laid myself down upon the tempo- rary bed made for me upon the hearth; I had not been there long, before Louisa came into the room, and supposing me to be asleep, she proceeded to undress herself; as she removed each article of apparel, the awkwardness of my position increased ; having taken her shoes off, she seated herself upon the edge of her bedstead, and she raised her foot to unfasten her garter; the light fell full upon my countenance. " Why you young rascal," she exclaimed, " you are awake are you ;— are you not ashamed to lie there staring at a lady un- dressing herself;" this was said in a laughing tone, which at firs; rather increased my confusion; remembering, however, my littf i aff. dr in the court, I got more bold, and she, after taking off her stockings, having repeated the question, I told her " I had seen no- thing I was ashamed to look at, for that she was not the first o 2 T H E TOWN. 3 man by many a dozen that I had seen dress when I was call- boy at the Surrsy Theatre." " I am afraid that Surrey Theatre has learnt you more than you ought to know; however instead of your lying gaping there, you'd better help me unlace my stays." I, of course, did as she desired, and then resumed ray place upon the cushions, during which time she got into bed. As soon as this was accomplished, she exclaimed, " Lor, Frank, how foolish we both are; we've forgotten to fasten the door suppose any one should come into the room and find us here, there's no knowing what they might say. Just slip the bolt in the hole, there's a dear boy?" I found this, however, no easy matter, for it being a very old house, the door had shrunk. Lousia perceiving my difficulty leaped from the bed, and with her assistance and a little exertion, I got the bolt to act. " I hate these ricketty old houses," she observed, " one's place is never secure; this last three nights my little sister has slept with me, f or I'm frightened to sleep alone— but she, poor child, could do not, bin ! with my confounded lock; indeed, I hardly thought you'd be strong ouough to manage it.'' 1 felt, rather complimented by her opinion, although I thought there was more talk about the fastening than there was any oc- casion, and as far as I was concerned, should not have cared if the door had been left wide open. " You'll be very cold child," she continued. " sleeping down there without something round your head; t'. ore's such a dreadful draught from that chimney; its worse than Mrs. Murrays, for she's had her flue swept, though now mine wants it bad enough ; let me tie this handkerchief round your head; it'll prevent the soot blowing down into your eyes." As she fastened the handkerchief round my head she kissed my forehead,— the soot did not, however, blow in my eyes, for at that moment the wind somehow blew out the candle, and as I could not find my way in the dark to my cushions, Louisa said it was better, for " fear of a cold, to sleep with her. After I had been in bed about ten minutes, a very singula.- circumstance, which I will describe in my next chapter, occurred, that compelled me to leave. [ To be continued.] TALES OF LONDON LIFE. A CHARACTER. BORN to no wealth, and much too fond of drink To act with rigor, or correctly think,— Possess'd of something like a sinecure, That makes bis income for the present sure ; But which, alas 1 his very drunkenness Will shortly render daily less and less. Coarse in his habits, in his manners rough, Ail boast and bluster, but in soul a puff. Those ribbon- loving dollies, whose delight Is talking scandal morning, noon, and night; Such now is Bibo, and from wha> I glean, Such, more or less, has Bibo ever been. Fitted, indeed, for nothing but to nurse Those brats foredoom'd his laziness to curse, Those squalling imps, whom others must protect, Ere long, alike from begg'ry and neglect ; Who seem increasing on the self- same scale, As Bibo's energies to guard them fail, Until at last, his milk- and- water wife Will curse her own and Bibo's misspent life} Hating the contemplation of their fate, And only learning wisdom when too late ! A VISIT TO BOULOGNE. BT THE MAN ABOUT TOWN. MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OR, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. ( Continued.) HAVING a few days, a week or two back, to spare, I and my wife determined, chiefly for the sake of the sea voyage, to go to Boulogne. We have both been accustomed to travel in all parts of Europe ; she speaks the language so that the nicest ear could not detect thai " he is not a Frenchwoman, and I speak it with fluency. Yua see, therefore, that we were tolerably qualified to judge of all we saw and hijard. Resolve and act is my motto in all things, but especially in ex- cursions. A carpet bag and a portmanteau were therefore quickly filled, and, in a couple of hours, we were on board the packet. We had now an opportunity of judging the sort of English peo- ple who form the bulk of the visitants to Boulogne, aud, as our packet was one charging the highest scale of fares, the sample we had witb us was, of course, bomething above the average; they could not have beeu much so, for a more vulgar set of cockneys could not be congregated in any tea- gardens about town, or upon the pier at Margate, than there was upon the quarter deck of the City of Boulogne— ' at was the name of the steamer. Before we got under weigh we heard smart young gentlemen, the pride and ornament, doubtless, of their respective establishments, murdering the Queen's English in a manner quite shocking to listen to; there were old gentlemen also whose phraseology was strongly tainted by the shop, and their wives and daughters who were cer- tainly not likely to impress the Boulogne people with any very favourable opinion of the lady- like manners of our oountrywomen. These people, remarked I to my little wife, are starting with their year's pleasure money in their pockets, and are determined to spend it; they are in a humour to fall into ecstacies at anything they never saw before, and to lavish wonder and admiration upon the most worthless things previded they are new. They are, for the time, spend- thrifts in money and praise, and ignorant of every- thing concerning what the, are going to buy or enjoy. Just the sort of qualities which, if tney were to carry them with them into their business, would make them bankrupts in a twelvemonth, and which must make them fools and dupes carry them where they will. Having made this rather lengthened and philosophical ob- servation, I drew myself up with an air, and my little wife saw that it was expected she should wonder at my profundity. We only saw one party on board who could have any pretentions to be thought gentlemen in their own country, and were going through « o Paris and on to Switzerland. ^ P I need not be very precise in my description of the sea voyage. All the way down the river I and the ladies had the quarter- deck pretty well to ourselves, for nearly all the rest of the male tribe walked forwards to smoke cigars. The steward shewed his dis- cretion in getting dinner ready before we got out of the river, and it passed off without any observation that occurred to me, except that all the exciseable commodities were supposed to have paid the English duties without going on shore, and where charged accord ingly. Of course, as soon as we rounded the North Foreland, that most powerful of revolutions, the revolution of the stomach, shook the whole frame of our steam- boat society. Men, women, and chil- dren, were all strewed about like so many leeches in a saucer- full of salt. I understand the fish are very fine off the North Fore land, and I don't wonder at it. I am never sea- sick myself, aud I never could see any fun in watching others who are so ; to my mind it suggests a mere idea of unredeemed filthiness. I was very glad when I could see the Boulogne harbour light. Twelve o'clock brought us up to the pier, with its interminable line of piles, and after some holloing and creaking of cables, with all the little incidents of debark- ation, we found ourselves all in a crowd in the anti- room of the Custom- house. Here, after the first five minutes, there was a beautiful English grumble, and many very orthodox Whitechapel damns. But the real fun was to hear our friends make their first essay in French to the Custom- house officials. ( To bt continued.) Mrs. Spinks, when she learned beyond all doubt that it was Gascoigne who had fallen from the roof of the house, and farther ascertained from the policeman, after he had been conveyed to a neighbouring surgeon's, that there was but little chance of his re- covery, gave vent to a flood of tears. Miss Bunker gazed upon her, and whispered something in the ear of the police- sergeant. " You seem very much affected about this man," she exclaimed, aloud. " If it really be as you say, and y< ru do not know him, you take a deal of interest in his affairs." " What do you mean?" replied Mrs. Spinks, suddenly. " Only, that if you had never seen this man, and he is but a casual lodger, I wonder what he did in your room?" " By what right dare you put such a question to me?" said Mrs. Spinks, with considerable asperity in her manner. " Yes; by what right dare you put such a question to my wife?'' chimed in Spinks. " Oh, no particular right," replied Miss Bunker; " only this poor fellow, who probably will lose his life, might have been as well as I am at the present moment, but for your tempting him into your bedroom." The agitation of Mrs. Spinks upon hoaring the religious female make this public charge, became excessive. For a few seconds she was unable to reply, whilst her husband gazed, first upon the policeman, then upon Miss Bunker, and last upon hi « wife, in speechless astonishment. He felt bis situation to be a peculiarly perplexing one. Mrs. Spinks, however, was the first to break the silence. " It is, then, as I suspected," she exclaimed; " and you have taken the liberty of handling my name. I command you, Mr. Spinks, instantly to compel this infamous woman to leave this room, lest I commit an act of violence. Did you hear me speak?" she added, elevating her voice. " I told you to remove this woman from my room." Poor Spinks was now evidently alarmed at the turn affairs had taken; there was something in the tone of his wife that told him he dare not disobey her, notwithstanding the charge which had been openly made against her by his lodger. " You had better leave," he said, advancing to Miss Bunker, and making an inclination as If about to remove her; " you'd better leave, without making a disturbance here." In all probability a disturbance would have been the result, for Miss Bunker felt determined, as she expressed herself, to expose Mrs. Spinks in her true colours, but for the arrival of a messenger from the hospital where Gascoigne had been conveyed, who in- formed Mrs. Spinks that the young man had but a short time to live. " Ho has expressed a desire to see you," said the man. " It is evidently something important— something about some papers." " Some papers!" repeated Spinks. " What papers?" " Some papers concerning some property in which your wife is interested," replied the man : " he has also said something about her mother." " Let us then hasten," exclaimed Mrs. Spinks; " I know to what he alludes, and I will explain it to you as we proceed thither." " No doubt you know all about," said Miss Bunker, tossing her head; " pretty goings on for a married woman I'm sure, and you Spinks, you call yourself a husband— you're as bad as her. I shall leave this house in' the morning, for I feel my reputation may be injured if this story should reach the meeting- house, or it it was known to the suffering Shizers thatJI . lived in such a place ;" and with these words the religious maiden flung herself out of the apartment. As Mr. and Mrs. Spinks proceeded to the hospital, the latter explained to the former everything relative to her meeting with Gjiscoigne. Upon their arrival, however, they found Gascoigne insensible ; and after remaining by his bed- 6ide for several hours, in the hope that he might at least return for a short period to consciousness, he about five o'clock ceased to breathe. From some sentences which be had dropped whilst at tb# hospital, and communicated to Mrs. Spinks, they were induced to examine the papers left by Gascoigne, and their perusal proved beyond all doubt her claim to the Rodwell estate. " You will now, Lorimer, understand," observed Mrs. Spinks, the next morning, " the cause of my uneasiness. Could I but find my brother, all would be well." " Had we not better at once proceed to Shadraclis"' answered her husband, " for although it is a queer place to be seen at, in my company persons cannot say much about it." " If that I thought I should be enabled to trace my brother, it would be at least worth a visit.'' " The possession of the pocket- book you was telling me about would assist us." " I have thought of that," answered Mrs. Spinks, " but perhaps it were better if we endeavoured to trace out Mr. Babbington, my grandfather's steward and confidant." " Let us go there at once," replied Spinks ; " at least no time should be lost over this matter. For he is now, it would seem by these papers, anxious to discover you, and restore to you the estate." Mrs. Spinks had not forgotten any portion of her recent con- versation, and she consequently remembered that it was more than probable she should have some difficulty in finding him. She therefore communicated her suspicions to her husband. " Will not these papers assist us," said Spinks, " or cannot we find Varden?" " Iam undetermined how to proceed," she replied ; " what is this letter?" she continued, turning over from amidst the mass of papers before her, the soiled and torn portion of a letter. " Surely my eyes do not deceive me. What is this on the fragment of a letter ? it has escaped our notice !" Margaret commenced reading the letter ; it appeared to be a rough copy of a note addressed some months since to Mrs. Saunders, and directed her to be at the hotel in Leicester- square. It was signed the Marquis de St. C . " It is thai awful man of whom I have already told you, Lori mer, whose appearance so much alarmed me last night, at Shad-- rach's." " There must be some understanding between these two men ; at least, as I said before, there will be no harm in calling at Shadrach's." Mrs. Spinks, determined to act upon the suggestion of her hus- band ; indeed, a great changehad taken place not only in her opi- nions, but also her manner, towards that simple- minded, but well meaning man. She now felt that she was the heiress to a large pro- perty, that all the wealth, pride, and power of position, that she had so long coveted, were within her grasp. She knew, however, there were circumstances in her former life, known, unfor- tunately for her pride, to too many, which might have the effect of damaging this fabric! She wished to dazzle— to overawe, and create a feeline of envy in the society of those with whom she had hitherto associated. She had not. yet learned that the possession of money would shut out, from the world's notice, the errors of her former life— that she would have at her command that luxury of wealth— the power of sealing the lips of detractors, or at least, to remove herself beyond the range and hearing of their enmity. She now, therefore, deter- mined upon using her husband more than ever as a vehicle for the carrying out of her pleasure. " I shall now be a fine lady," she thought, " and I must for a little study appearances." Under this impression, and desirous to win Spinks to her pur- pose, fearful that, notwithstanding the power she knew she had over him, he might revolt upon discovering her numerous visits to Shadrach's, a common brothel, she, apparently, fell in with and agreed to every proposition made by him. At this juncture it would have materially disarranged her plans to have appeared anything but a respectable married woman. " We will go at once," she said, " to the residence of the mar- quis ; we, I think, shall, as you say, learn something of Mr. Bab- bington." Upon reaching the brothel, they ascertained that the marquis had been abseut during the whole day, a very unusual circumstance. Mrs. Spinks was about leaving the brothel- house, when she heard a voice in the passage, inquiring for the papers and trunks of the marquis. " I shall now obtain the information I require," she exclaimed. " Come, Lorimer, this is, indeed, fortunate." She was about advancing to the speaker, who, she observed, was accompanied by a young female in deep mourning, and upon his turning round again to speak to the waiter, she had a full view of his countenance. In an instant she rushed towards him, and, throwing her arms around him, exclaimed— " My brother— my brother— my long- lost brother." ( To bo continued). TOWN TRIFLES- THE Lord Chief Baron Nicholson has a very quiet way of shutting up a noisy drunken customer, by declaring that they must excuse him, they really must excuse him, and then turning to the Bachanalian, quietly observing, " I perceive, sir, you have had too much wine, but as we have had none of the wine, its hardly fair to expect us to take any of the annoyance." " I can say the same as Hazlitt, that my name is a barrier to a pun." So said the first dramatist of our times, a morning or so since. " Butwith equal want of thought," remarked a friend," for of your dramatic genius it may be said that it knolls ( Kuowles) the knell of the thousands and one green horns and empirics who go about bragging of their productions." " By the powers, there's genuis in that," returned the author of " William Tell," evidently much pleased. IF THE CAP FITS WEAR IT. Tho' your lilies and roses long ago fled, You still hope to charm us with white and with red, But believe me, oh! madam, the effort's too faint, A man can distinguish ' twixt nature and paint. Then quit your enamel, your pencils and art, Lay hold on the virtues that conquer the heart, As a wife and a mother be prudent and chaste, Then that will be brilliant which now is but paste. There was sweetness even in the bitterness, mirth even in the curse that condemned man to labour for his bread ; for exercise itself is health and very often happiness; but as art is man's nature, and civilization the intention of Providence, there must be a class to cultivate the intellectual soil, that our minds may eat the bread of thoughtful life. Constant occupation of some sort is indispen- sable to a healthy enjoyment of existence; stagnation is corrup- tion— disease, misery. CURIOUS LOVE- LETTER.— The following letter was acctually sent a few months since to a lady, then residing at Kennington Oval, but who is now the bride of the writer— T House, Sept. 1. . To Miss Rosa Matilda S . Marm— As a man of bisiness I thinks that there's a nothing like comingto the point slap bang at once. I'm ready to make you a husband if you thinks the same way as myself' I was quite a smitten with you in your riding habit, on your old Sal, the other day. I aint much of a poet, but I suppose these here love things arn't ginteel without some werses, so I tries some a » follows;— When I saw your body tight, In that habit, blue, so light, I exclaimed, " Love, blow me tight, But I'll have your hand." Those ringlets of the hair wot's ginger, Said to my heart, " Oh, do not linger, Cupid, my boy, go forth and bring her, Fly, fly at my command!" Heavens, what a high cerulean blue, Come to these wretched harms, oh, do! Let fate ory no, I'll only say' Poh! Rosa, rise up to me. This here is poorish effusion, but the best I can make. Your faithful servant, P. S. Please leave the answer in the butcher's shop. I like mystery in these love affairs. EXPERIENCE AND FORESIGHT.—" Experience," says Cole- ridge, " is like the stern lantern of a ship, which only show the dangers we have passed:" but surely this light may be so thrown forward by reflection as to guard us against the perils that are coming. We can best read what is to be, by perusing what has been. A woman in the North went to return thanks for her safe delive- ry, or as they call it, to be churched; when she came to the part of the service, " and I said injmy heart all men are liars," she looked up to the parson, and very simply said, " I winna repeat this, for aw never said our John were a liar ; he promised to get me wi' bairn the first neet o' the wedding, and he kept his word rarely." NIGHT HOUSE CHAMPAGNE.— They have lately found out a new dodge for doing the drunken flats ; to half a pint of gin put the same quautity of cider, and a gill of new ale, add about a tea spoon full of common carbonate of soda; put in a champagne cork just before drawing, and well shake as you bring it from the cel- lar (?); at three o'clock in the morning it is made to pass for CHAMPAGNE. Poor old Mother Riley, who was for so many years known to the ladies, with a large grey ass at Margate, has become fright- fully hard up, and from donkey letting has been compelled to be- take herself to the Union. A few days since her venerable moke was sold, and a friend who called upon her in the workhouse with the proceeds has sent us the following:— The times indeed are very hard, Mrs. Mary Riley, truly. But tell us why you sell your as Has it become unruly? Quoth Mrs. Riley, list to me, At description I may lack words, But for these thirty- four long years Has my business been going backwards; That ass, the dirty stubborn brute, Can't move, its grown so old, So as I'm in the union now, I'm ' gallus' glad that it's sold. The amusement of reading is among the greater consolations of life; it is the nurse of virtue ; tho upholder in adversity ; the prop of independence; the support of a just pride ; the strengthener of elevated opinions; it is a shield against tyranny, of of all petty passions ; it is the repeller of the fool's scoff, and the knave's poi- son. DISCRETION.—" Has your son Timothy failed ?" enquired one Ifriend of another. " Oh, not at all ; he has only assigned over hie property, and fallen back to take a better position!" THE TOWN. 3 SPITALFIEKDS.— On a Saturday, in the pea season, vot a hanni- mating scene Spitalfields describes. Ve'll fancy it at morning's dawn. Salesmen and market gardeners are hurrying to their re- spective stations ; carts from all parts, vith all sorts of hanuimals, come lumbering in ; the coffee and saloop stands have plenty of customers; porters vith baskets 011 their heads are hurrying about, conweying the wedgetables to their warions owners; while, at hin- tervals a fight in von quarter, and a row in another, relieve the no- tonnyofthe scene. Public houses are full, and beef steaks and purl are greatly in request. This excitement will continue until ten o'clock, ven the warious inhabitants of the stalls display their goods to a werry great hadwantage. You may buy ( that's if you have got the browns) anything from ared herring to a ha'porth of tape. Most of these persons begin their business by daylight, and so continue earnestly endeavouring to gain a livelihood till twelve o'clock at night, which I takes to be werry praiseworthy. They bring up large families, and they pays their vay, ( which is, as far as they can fork out), vich is likewise praiseworthy. They are blessed with a wcrry beautiful church, and they aro likevise grati- fied at having alvays sumrnut the matter vith it,— and in a vord, Spitalfields is full of poor people, vith large families, olenty ot mouths, little to heat, lots of rates, nix the blunt. LOVE'S START. I wandered forth at eventide, To take the fresbning air, With blooming Fanny by my side, Free from all strife or care. The gentle moon her influence shed, To calm our weary thought, And soon young love, by fancy bred, Uprose with pleasure fraught. I pressed the fair one to my heart, A tear bedewed my ardent eye, For she exhaled what made me Btart; Not loving vow, or balmy sigh. But that which smelt of earth too trne, And human nature's basest part ; ' Twas this that filled my eye with dew, And chased all pleasure from my heart. I thrust the base one from my side; My soul with madd'ning fury glowed, When she my rising wrath espied, Anil sadly penitential stood. Oh! be content, dear love, said she, Nor view it in ill mood, You pressed my inmost soul to see, I gave you all I could. FREKCH DUELLING.— Iu 1547 the last French judicial duel was fought by Count Guy Chabot and the Count of Chatergueria, in the presence of Henry II. and his court. The Count of Chater- gueria was mortally wounded : his death affected the monarch so much that he solemnly vowed not to permit another. CRIMES OP THE TOWN, A LONDON PAWNBROKER. f THE TOWN- THE TOWN, the vast immortal TOWN, When first it broke Through London smoke And the world awoke, From a sleep or study vast or brown, The good to rejoice and the bad to frown, The rollicking youth, the kiddy, and swell, In THE TOWN office burst, For number the first, With infinite gust. The joy of their laughter none could tell, Of the millions rushing wild pell- mell. The people were yawning for something new. Poor Hood was dead, In a sepulchre laid Was his honoured head. Albert Smith, in a stew, Proved that of poets we'd few, They all had passed to a distant shore. Old Crabbe was extinct, And Wordsworth linked With those that are brinked On that country unknown, to return no more. And the gap was voted a terrible bore The Fielding and Smolletts were nowhere found. Dickens though good, Required the aid oiwood To be understood, But couldn't write in a style profound, An engrossing hand not bold and round. The old Punch's jokes were evaporate soon ; Caudle had died, And Jerrold cried, As to Whitefriars he hied Away with his goods, vulgo Bhooting the moon, In a character new to a livelier tune. Then arose a mighty wonder, In our Babylon and Babel ; Startling London as with thunder, From portentous clouds of sable. All was dread and direful gloom, See the sweeping tempest rise, Fierce as if a day of doom Burst upon man's wond'ring eyes. From the east their seers are coming, Meu of every clime you meet, Magi from the West are running To our pub's— Holywell- street. " The people rejoice, And lift up their voice," ( Vide anthem by Boyce) And a shout cometh forth from all men of renown, At the birth of the glorious omnipotent TOWN. See the marvel- working paper, Fairly in the newsman's hands, ' Mong all swindlers what a caper, In their well- concerted bands; All rogues and thieves Were cooked in its leaves, And it much their heart grieves To find they have fallen in merciful hands. Bawds and pimps in all directions From their hellish dens are fled, Dreading all the home reflections, Trembling as the TOWN they read. The snob, that is swell, Wishes the TOWN at h— 11, Their fear none can tell. At the chance of losing their daily bread, All the host of swindling puffers, Old procuresses with passage lamps, Actors' agents— magsmen duffers, And the tribes of gin- shop scamps, All shiver'd and shook, With a chop- fallen look, At our magical book, And like pedlars packed up to go on their tramp. Then success to THE TOWN of fame and renown. Whose lustre first broke Through London smoke, And the world awoke, And poring o'er scandal and domestic strife, To read THE TOWN and LONDON LIFE. As caterers for public entertainmont and instruction, it must be admitted, that we havo struck into varied paths, and entered upon gigantic undertakings; peculiajr gratification arid satisfac- tion have hitherto been the tesult'bf our endeavours, and those enviable feelings have arisen from a conviction that we, despite every difficulty, have achieved the tasks we have essayed. The liberal patronage with which the public has honoured us, has in- duced us to tnrn the " mirror" to a particular class of female de- linquents, varying materially, in rank, station, education, and worldly position, from those who appear in our columns under the head of London procuresses, to those who have performed the im- portant duties of moral responsibility— wife and mother— and for years have been looked up to as paragons of virtuous perfec- tion. Of this particular calibre of abasement we shall treat, most na- turally, in short sketches or memoirs, and will " Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." In entering upon such a field, fraught with delicacy and wounding recollections to some, we shall not allow circumstance; rank, or station, to operate with us, feeling conscious that the many will be benefited, though perhaps at the expence of the private feelings of the few; for it must, on all hands beadmitted, that a source could not be found from whence a more forcible moral lesson could be drawn, than from this description of domes- tic affliction in real life. It has been justly ooserved that, " Truth is stranger than fiction." We will not overstrain the feelings by the addition of romantic fiction, or the modern embellishments of unintelligible allegory ; we will leave all that to the novel makers, and proceed with our first sketch. THE LATE LADY ASTLEY. This ill- fated lady was the daughter of Sir John Dashwood, Bart. That she was beautiful, is a fact well- known, and as ac- complished as befitted a lady moving in the very first walk of society, there can be no doubt. At a very early age she was mar- ried to Sir Jacob Astley, Bart., a gentlemen of excellent family and princely fortune, but of a gay, profligate disposition, which rendered him totally unworthy to be entrusted with so bright a treasure with so young, beautiful, and virtuous a wife. " I do think it is their husband's faults If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties, And pour our treasures into foreign laps.'' Sir Jacob, immediately after marriage, held a reckless reign of debauchery, associating with the most abandoned females, and, that too, without the foeling or prudence of keeping the know- ledge of his moral delinquency from his then unsophisticated wife. He set her the example that led her to ruin and eternal shame. She bore him three children. The tender ties of family ought most certainly, in spite of the vicious habits of Sir Jacob, to have kept her virtues; but such is human frailty, that even the endear- ing smiles of her innocent children were not sufficient to induce her to remain in the path of virtuous rectitude. Sir Jacob intro- duced to his house, the celebrated Captain Garth, whose claims to royal notice and support were talked of, we firmly believe, by everybody hut himself. After a short acquaintance, the Captain persuadeel the unfortunate woman to elope with him. An action was the result, and the irregularities of Sir Jacob appearing as evidence in mitigation of damages, one shilling was only awarded by the jury as the estimate of injury he had sustained. Thus did this foolish young man dash the cup of happiness from his lips, bereaved his children of a mother, himself of a beauteous and accomplished wife, by indulgence in the excesses of profligacy and wanton enjoyment; and when he sought justice at, the hand of his fellow countrymen, they mocked his appeal, by plainly telling him, that as he prized not the jewel while he had it, he could feel no loss in its absence. As far as we have gone, the events met the public eye in the newspaper reports of the time; but we are now coming to an epoch in the life of her ladyship not publicly known or recorded. Captain Garth, some short time after the trial, was arrested for debt, and placed in the King's Bench prison, where he remained upwards of five years. We must now travel a little from our narrative to say something of Captain Thomas Garth. He might, had he thought fit, have freed himself from jail, by obtaining his discharge under the Insol- vent act, within two months after his arrest. He disdained such relief, and remained, as we have said, five years in prison, until, by the exercise of the greatesteconomy, he had satisfied the claims of all his creditors, out of the receipts of his half- pay as a Captain in his Majesty's service. We merely mention this fact as an act of justice to a man whose position with the public, from a variety of circumstances, has been unenviable in the extreme. It will naturally be asked, where was Lady Astley all this time ? She was living in the greatest possible retirement, few knew where ; but we cau assert, without fear of contradiction, that very rarely, if ever, did she come into the King's Bench. A few months prior to the captain's release, he availed him- self of the license of the rules of the prison, and, for some time, lived with her ladyship at No. 3, Chester- place, Borough- road, apparently as happy and as domesticated as the most plebeian cou- ple. Here she became enceinte. This impressed on her heart caused sorrow and gloom, And that face ever beaming with gladness, Was now like mortality's laid in the tomb, Whilst anen ' twas convulsed with madness. This unhappy lady, born and qualified to move as a guiding star in the world of fashion, rank, respectability, and wealth, breathed her last in a humble lodging within the rules of the King's Bench, after having given birth to a beautiful female infant. The unfeigned sorrow of Captain Garth showed itself for months after the sad event, in his pallid cheek and sunken eye. The dissembling man evinces not these real tokens of grief and bitterness of feeling. Sir Jacob, upon hearing of her death, claimed the right of burying her. " They made her grave too cold and damp, For a heart so warm and true." Her body is deposited in the cemetery in the Harrow- road. An unpretending tomb, with a plain inscription merely, denotes that the body of Lady Astley lies there. Here is a moral lesson for the rising generation of our time, male and female. Had Sir Jacob been wise, she would have been virtuous. Let not the finger of scorn be pointed at her tomb, or her premature death be cited as a judgment upon the wicked, but let her conduct and her fate be put forth as an example of feminine weakness operated upon by masculine infamy. She must not, in future ages, be spoken of as one of the vicious, but rather as a victim. This is the true light in which to view her character; aud let it be remembered, that " Truth shall survive even death— It's decrees are still read in the dust: From the depth of the vault there's a breath, An injunction,' Oh, mortal, be just.'" MUTUAL SUPPORT.— The race of mankind would perish did they cease to aid each other. From the time that the mother binds the child's head, till the moment that some kind assistant wipes the death- damp from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist without mutual help. All, therefore, that need aid have a right to ask it of their fellow- mortals: no one who holds the power of granting can refuse it without guilt. How TO CARRY A TRUNK.— Mr. Erskine was once hard pressed in defending the proprietors of a stage- coach in an action on a case for negligently losing Mr. Polito's ( the wild- beast showman) portmanteau, who had sat on the front of the coach with his luggage on the top behind. " Why did he not," said the witty counsel, " take a lesson from his own sagacious elephant and travel with his trunk before him!" FEW'then See more of human kind in all their varieties than the pawnbroker, and few can so easily read the character of indi- viduals. Almost at the first glance he can assure himself of a person's history ; at least, some misfortune connected with it. All his customers are, in some degree, acquainted with misfortune or misconduct, often both, for the one produces the other; and he knows the particular species of misfortune, though not the par- ticular fact; and always feels pretty well satisfied as to the question of legal or illegal pawning. That w man who has been retrieving her flat- irons from their place of bondage, and on which irons fourpence had been lent three weekS'ttgo, he can see to be one who was habitually poor. He has seen { J10 irons several times before, and, as they were always redeernedon a Saturday night, he knows that all pride and rectitude has no< neft her, though she is poor and improvident. She must have some regard for clean things on a Sunday, else why require the irons? She must have very little household furniture, else why pledge them? She must have a Saturday night pay of some kind, else why able to relieve them and other articles at that time and at no other? She roust be im- provident, else why to pawn so regular ? She migi » , it is true, have somebody else who compelled her to such proceedings, but there is oftentimes a presence of gin about her, which fastened all the faults of bad management about herself. Those two children, ragged, dirty, and diminutive, yet old enough to be allowed the privilege of acting as their mother's agents in doing business at the counter, tell of a home made miserable by some sad aberration of moral conduct. He knows that there is some melancholy misconduct, because the children are always together, always with the arm of one round the neck of the other, as they come in or out, or pass the street door; he sees them often, and knows they love each other dearly ; and he judged thereby that, when children have such warmth of affection in dirt, and hunger, and raggerluess, the parents must have naturally possessed warm affection also; and that, if such affections were not poisoned by the terrible companionship of drunkenness, and its concomitant moral crimes, the children would not be suffered to wear their constant misery of appearance. That young man in the smock- frock and leather leggings, who asks the loan of three pouuds upon his watch, he knows to be a genuine countryman newly from Devon. He is from Devon because of his dialect. IIis not an impostor, because of asking three pounds in loan for an article, the entire value of which is not thirty shillings. He is simple in the ways of the world, else he would not have paid so much for his watch. And he bought it and paid a high price for it, because it is new, and because he expects to borrow three pounds 011 it. He is not a recruit, because if he had been, the soldiers who enlisted him into the company, would have had the watch sold and the price of it spent in the market town. He has left his native place for some cause operat- ing suddenly; poaching perchance, or a charge of- bastard paternity, or a sturging disappointment in love. The pawnbroker knows this, because the countryman hss no money without, pledging his watch ; and because he has not yet been in London long enough to know the name of the street, nor the number of the house where he has been lodging. He will get ton shillings on his watch, and ere that is all spent, he will know Charles- street, Westminster. There are fifty and more fellows having a rendezvous in that street, who are always looking out for such strangers as this countryman; and when they fall in with him, his money will soon be gone, and he will soon be a soldier. He will spend his last shilling, and one of them will soon furnish him and nail him into the Queeu's service with another. The pawnbroker sees another countryman, whose smock- frock and leggings, and provincial dialect, are as genuine as those pecu- liarities of the first were. But he quickly perceives that this fellow knows enough of the world, and possesses sufficient, abili- ties to put himself into a different character than that of the Johnny Raw which he now assumes. He lias something to pledge, which he professes to have picked up from the road, as he was coming into town ; or, perhaps from the streots; or, that was left him as a legacy, by an undo who died iu the Indies. A few searching questions commonly have the effect of mak- ing this customer back out of the pretence he has set up, and sheer off. A recruiting corporal, fresh from his regiment, will try to book this gentleman, seeing, as he does, the patent appearance of a countryman iu him. But the skilful, epicure who provides an aged gander instead of a young goose for his table, is not more disappointed than the corporal, who throws his bait to such an old stager as this. Happy for the wearer of the two stripes if he escapes with having only spent two days' pay in the vain attempt to get this one drunk enough to take the shilling. That young woman who pawns a silk dress, and wears another, has many marks about her which many persons know, or pretend to know, as the distinguishing marks— virtue, mercenary love, wasted beauty. She is a fallen creature; yet the pawnbroker knows her to be one of an extensive and widely varied class. He knows all the varieties of that class. A modest, neat, clean, middle- aged woman, the pawnbroker knows her to be one who has a small ineome certain, with a dependence on a relation, perhaps her eldest son who is in India ; it is cruel necessity which brings her to the shop. She has had to buy her youngest son out of a regiment of dragoons, for he was her darling; and, though once in the joyous belief that there was no life like a soldier's, he found to his grievous cost, that he had to work harder for no thanks at all in the dragoons, than he did for a pound a week, when a tall over- grown, discontented apprentice. The worst of it is, the useless devil will perhaps go and enlist again when he is drunk, after put- ting his mother to such an expense— after reducing her to the pawn- shop. If he does, it is the best place for him, as such a fellow is useless, but when a whip is hanging over his head. That genteel young man, who offers a valuable watch for a loan of a small sum, is a youag beginner; he has commenced prigging on his own account from the mere force of circumstances, other than mutual inclination. If he had a natural propensity to steal, he would have studied the thief's art before this time. And if he had been in professional company he would have known better what to do with that article than bring it to a stranger's house. Yet he came by it dishonestly, for he cannot tell how nor where. He cannot tell the maker's name nor number. He gives an address for himself, which Mr. Thomas suspects to be wrong; and Mr. Thomas accordingly sends for a policeman, and the gen- teel young man is locked up and next day taken before a magis- trate. He is found to be respectably connected, and not prosecuted, aud the penny- a- liner, who attends the office to take reports for publication in the newspapers, and bribes for the suppression or alteration of reports, has prepared a summary of the particulars which he privately communicates to the genteel young man's friends, saying, that he thinks it his duty to let them know what kind of report will appear in the papers. He states that he may alter it in some words from its present shape; yet he thought, he could not do less than let them see it now. The consequence is, that he pockets a sovereign or two, or perhaps three or four ; and with two or three shabby- genteel companions, whom he states to be reporters for the newspapers, he drinks pots of half- and- half while the genteel young man's friends are making the bargain with him. In all those Wellington boots hanging in pairs, those spoons lying in dozens, those female dresses clinging together opposite the counterpane and blankets, the counterpane and blankets clinging together opposite the female dresses; those handsomely bound testaments and chessmen, those hand- saws and jack- planes, the silver tea- pot and the brass candlesticks, the old portrait and busts, and swords and guns, and miniature field batteries ; all that china and glass, old, new, complete and incomplete, has each article a moral history in it. 4 T H E TOWN. 3 NOTICE TO THE! TRADE. The Trade are informed that they may hare handbills and posters, with their names attached, on application ; and that No. 1 will be sold to the Trae. it. half the usual price, viz., two dozen for the price usually churned for one. Should they find any diffi- culty in obtaining the TOWN from their regular agent, they are requested to send their orders direct, with the amount in stamps. And the Trade are farther informed, that they may have any quantity of the back numbers of the TOWN changed, or their money returned, by sending to the office, although they may have received them from other publishers. notice to ffiomspontiente. All communications for the " TOWN" to be directed in future to Mr. H. G. BROOKS, care of Mr. W. WINN. X., ( Berwick.) — You have neglected to state, your address. Your communications will be inserted if approved of. POMPBY.— Send us the name of any Bookseller who refuses to supply you, and we will indict them at the Old Bailey. G. T. H.— A Letter sent to our publisher will reach the party named. A LOOKER- ON.— There are some scurrilous publications which will be glad of your communications. We never lend our immortal sheet to such purposes. What flats you were 1 W. M. W., ALPHABET, and AMATEUR have been received and shall be attended to next week. THE SUN TAVERN, ( Hemel Hemstead.)— Mr. Lydall should keep a file of our paper for his customers, he can have it by writing. If our old Birmingham Correspondent will write to us he shall be attended to. A mass of other Correspondents already received must stand over till our next. MEMOIR OF A FRENCH LADY OF FASHION. ( Continued from our last.) She lighted the candles of a candelabra, opened a door leading into her bed room, and disappeared. As to myself, I began to reflect on the life of this poor girl, and my love increased to pity. I was rapidly pacing the chamber when Prudence entered. " Ah! here you are ?" she said to me. " Where is Marguerite ?"— " In her dressing room." " I will wait for her. Well, she thinks you charming, do yo « know that ?"—" No." " Hasn't she spoken to you a little about it ?" " No ; on the contrary, she received me horribly to- night. She is such a capricious girl." " She is in a very bad humour to- day. I know why, but I bring her good news." " There is no harm done ; and so she has spoken to you of me?" " Yesterday evening, or rather last night, when you left with your friend. Apropos, how is your friend ? Eugene, I think he is called ?'' " Yes," I said, unable to withhold a smile on remembering the confidant he had made me, and finding that Prudence did not even know his name. " The lad is genteel, what does he do ?'• she continued. " Why, he has 20,000 or 25,000 francs a year." " Ah! really? Well, to return to you, Marguerite questioned me about you; she enquired who you were, what was your pro- fession, who had been your mistress, in fact, all that one can ask about a man of your age. I told her all I knew, adding that you were a charming fellow, there." " Thank you ; now, tell me with what commission she charged you yesterday ?" " With none ; what she said to me was merely to make the , u You must go to bed," she continued, with that ironical tone duke leave, but she charged me with one for to- day, and tis the which 90 weU became her fine and spiritual head. reply I now bring her." — - - - At this moment Marguerite entered from her dressing room, coquetishly coiffe'd in a ravishing little nightcap, trimmed with rosettes of yellow ribbon, technically called cabbages. In this attire she was quite seducing. Her naked feet were encased in satin slippers with small heels, and she was completing the toilette of her nails. " Well," she said, on seeing Prudence. " Well," and go. In the course of the day, you shall receive a note and my orders, for you know you must obey me, blindly." " Yes; and if I demanded something?"—" What then?"— " That you allow me this key." " You mistrust." " No, I make sure, that's all." " Armand, I have never dose for any one what you demand of me." " Well, do it for me, for I swear I do not love you as the others love you." " Well, keep it, but I warn you that it depends on me alone to make the key useless to you." " How so ?"—" There are bolts inside the door."—" Now, that's wicked." " I will have them taken off." " You love me a little, then ?" " I know not how it is, but it seems to me X do. Now go; I am dying with sleep." We remained a few seconds more in the arms of each other aud I left. The streets were deserted, the great city still slept, a re- freshing breeze pervaded the quarters in which the busy murmurs of men would in a few hours inundate. When I entered my own room my gaiety was beyond bounds. When I thought that the barriers my imagination had placed be- tween me and this girl had disappeared, that she- was mine, that she thought of me, that I had the key of her bed room in my pocket, and the privilege of making use of it, I was satisfied with life, proud of myself, and thanked God who had permitted me so much happiness. It was amidst these thoughts that I fell asleep. I was awoke by my servant, who, thinking I had returned at midnight as usual, thought himself privileged to enter my room at two o'clock. He brought me a note from Marguerite, which contained these words: " These are my orders; to- night at the Vaudeville front box ; in the lower tier, No. 2. Come during the third Entr'Acte." I engaged a stall, and at seven o'clock I was at the Vaudeville. Never had I been so early at a theatre. At the commencement of the third act I heard the door of the only box that was empty, open, and Marguerite entered. She at once passed to the front, looked round the orchestra, recognised me, and thanked me by a look. She was superbly handsome on this night! and I had the key of the bed- room of this woman! and in three or four hours I should again clasp her in my arms ! We blame those who ruin themselves for actresses and gay wo- men ; my only astonishment is that twenty times the folly is not committed on their account. If they had lived this life as I have done, they would have known how the daily little vanities they lavish on their lovers increase and fortify our love for them. Prudence next took a seat in the box, and a man, whom I re- cognised as the Count deG , was seated at the back. On seeing him, an icicle seemed to encircle my heart. I fancied that Marguerite noticed the impression made on me by the presence of this man in her box, for sho again smiled at me, and turning her back to the Count, she appeared very attentive to the piece that was being played. At the third entr'acte, she turned round to him, and I heard the box door open and shut. Marguerite then made me a sign to pay her a visit. " Good evening," she said, as I entered, and she presented me her hand. " Good evening," I replied, addressing Marguerite and Prudence —" Sit down." " But I am taking the place of some one. Will not M. the Count de G return ?" " Yes, I have sent him for some bonbons that we might have a moment's conversation. Madame Duvernay is in our con- fidence." " Yes, my children," said the latter, " but fear not, I shall say nothing." " What's the matter with you to- night?" said Marguerite, rising and kissing me on the forehead. " I am suffering a little!" youth, wo hope he may have to knock at as many doors for a livelihood, as he has robbed others of knockers. Another gentleman of whom we have also heard, not a medical student, has hitherto indulged his appetite in this way; but we trust, that after a little lecturing he has received from one or two friends on the subject, he will cease to resort to so unintellectual an amusement. He still looks with a longing and lingering eye at every knocker he passes in his daily perambulations, but we have hopes, as he has buried his spoil beneath two feet of garden- stuff and recited an epithalamium over their joint and respective graves. When a man cuts out a new path in any walk, so sure will he have a host of followers treading on his heels. The Irish Mar- quis, of police- office notoriety, prided himself upon being " the very first of knockermen "— not the very first of dustmen— and like blood- hounds on the scent, so followed all tho shallow youn~ men about town. ° We have seen of late, in several streets in tlia neighbourhood of Burton- crescent, doors without knockers. We never can look upon a door in such a dilemma, without feeling a powerful sym- pathy ; it is like a face without a nose, or a man with sightless eyeballs. We are decided philanthropists, and therefore beg leave most respectfully to advise all persons concerned in putting so neces- sary a finish to a house as a door, to be particular in tho fashion of a knocker; let it be what is called " a lion knocker," one that stoppcth not half way in its lifting, for that affordeth a most pow- erful leverage ; one that reareth its lion head boldly back in a half- circle, and will knock as fiercely above as below. Those who have already their knockers, will do well to replace them with others of the above description, and, like anything painted with far- famed anti- corrosion, they will stand for ever, _ Now, we of the TOWN, having a mortal dislike to the destruc- tion of property, do hereby give notice, that we shall watch with Argus eyes, the locality of which we have been speaking; and, being acquainted with the names of certain knockermen, their haunts, places of abode, and station in life— which, if some of them read this acticle they will be able to testify— we shall make no scruple, if they still continue to cultivate their organs of de- structiveness, to give very full particulars in a forthcoming number. IMMENSE SUCCESS!!! THE PENNY PU - « - A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK, Illustrated by the first Artists of tho day The Public is respectfully informed that No. 9 of The PENNY PUNCH will be PERMANENTLY Ei^ LARCSD, And that some of the First Writers and Artists of the Day hava been engaged to contribute to its mirth- exciting pages. TO BE GIVEN AWAY TO THE SUBSCRIBERS OP THE PENNY PUNCH, A New and Original Work, entitled IOHAS ISOMHEABT; OR, THE TRIALS OF ELLEN AMB ROSE. A TALE OP THE SLAVE STATES OP AMERICA. IEGENDS OF SCOTTISH SUPERSTITION— Being a Complete His- J tory of the Marvellous Transactions of the Middle Ages. Modern scep- tics who doubt the existence of witches are warned to read the well authen- THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND— All collected into one little volume, price two- pence. No ono who loves his country should be without this pocket companion. Complete for one penny, THE HORRORS OF EMIGRATION ! or, tho Miseries, Privations, and Dangers Endured in a Strange Country ; Murders and Robberies by the Natives! Fearful Shipwrecks from Rotten Ships, & c., < cc. Exposure of Agents who will get you Transported to the Land of Disease and Swarms of Vermin ! A Shilling's Worth for a Penny. CUPID'S SECRET GUIDE to the Pretty Women and Handsome Young Men, their Fortumes, Ace., One Penny. THE BOYS' OWN ILLUSTRATED HANDBOOK OF ANGLING, em- bellished by Fourteen Engravings; as much information as in a half- guinea work. One Penny. A KEY to the Extraordinary and Mysterious Halo that hovers over the singular stand taken by the Honourable and Reverend Baptist Noel— being a review of the leading points of his truly valuable and highly in- structing Work, called " An Essay on Church and State." THE LADIES' BEST FRIEND,— Containing Secrets of Importance to Females of every rank and station, and in ail situations of life. Those who study real eco- nomy may save a large sum of money, and also adfl con- siderably to the comforts of home. Numerous useful and approved Re- ceipts of the utmost consequence to females, whether Maids, Wives, or Widows, and the practice of which will quickly prove the folly of emigrating when you can save gold at home, One Penny. AN ABSTRACT of the PAWNBROKERS' ACT, with an Interest Table, showing the amount payable upon pledges fur One Shilling and upwards, from ono to twelve months, One Penny. THE PENNY DOMESTIC COOKERY BOOK. THE BALL- ROOM MANUAL; being a complete Multum in Parvo Compendium of the Art of Dancing. Twopence. Raffle papers one penny each. This is a most useful invention, for one penny, every thing complete; asavingof Two Hours' Work. SECRETS OF FREEMASONRY ; a Manual of the Three Degrees, with an introductory Key- stone to the Royal Arch. Cloth gilt, price ( is., post free. The whole of the above works to be had of W, WINN, Holywell- street, Strand, London, and of all Booksellers. —" TIT- BITS FOR GENTLEMEN. ECRETS FOR YOUNG MEN, OLD MEN, SINGLE MEN, MARRIED MEN. Price 6d.; post free, eight Stamps. An invaluable little work, giving rules by which all diseases can be curcd without medical aid. " This is a useful little book, and should be possessed by every English man."— Public Press. EIGHT SPICY PLATES, a la Fransaise, One Shilling ; post- paid, Is. 6d. SPICE NUTS, a charming collection of delicious pictures, for Bachelors' parties, is.; post- paid Is. 6d. LESSONS FOR LOVERS, only 2s. 6d.; post free, 3s„ originally published at 10s. 6d. COAL- HOLE SONGSTERS, Is. each. BACHELORS' ALBUM, Teneoloured plates from the French, 2s.; postage 6d. SEALED GEMS, Four exquisite plates by Emile Jeamin, coloured by Morat, 3s. 6d.; postage 6d. Also, The SECRETS OF NATURE Revealed, 2s. 63.; postage 6d. THE SWELL'S NIGHT GUIDE through London, Edited by the Lord Chief Baron, 3s. Gd.; postage Is. AMOURS OF LORD BYRON, 4s. 6d.; postage Is. HARRIETT WILSON, 5s. ( Id.; postage 2s. 8d.' ARISTOTLE'S CELEBRATED MASTER- PIECE, 3s. Gd.. TAIL PIECES, Eight racy plates, A la Francaise, and Waggeries, four coloured plates from the French, Is. LES PERLES POUR LES GENTILHOMMES Is., splendid coloured plates. FLOWER OF LOVE, eigh higly coloured plates from the private port- folio of Louis the Fourteenth, price 2s. 6d.; post- paid 3s. BUDDING BEAUTIES, four beautifully coloured drawings by'Leonard Mayo, Is.; post- paid, Is. 6d. SCENES FROM THE GROVES OF ELYSIUM, eight coloured sketches from nature, Gd.; post- paid Is. WOMAN DISROBED, a curious and amusing Love Tale, coloured plates, 3s. Gd., postage Gd. MYSTERIES OF VENUS, or Lessons of Love, five plates, 4s. Gd., postage 6d. WOMAN of PLEASURE, coloured plates, 5s. 6d., postage Gd. One copy of the original edition of HARRIETT WILSON, published by Stockdale, 4 vols, in 2, half calf, two guineas. UN PACQUET POUR LES MESSIEURS, to prevent something mora than Cholera, containing Twelve Letters, enclosed in a neat packet a la Francais. Preparft par M. G. La Mert; per post direct, 10s. 6d. THE SILENT FRIEND, Twenty- six coloured Plates, post free, 3s. PHYSIOLOGY OF MAN, coloured Plates, post free, 4s. GENESOLOGY OF WOMEN, Sixty- three coloured Engravings, post free, 5s. T. Hicks, 34, Holywell- street, Strand. IMPORTANT, AND PRACTICAL HINTS. N C H, said the latter, " I have seen him." " And what did he say to you ?"— He gave it me." " How much ?"—" Six thousand." " You have them ?"—" Yes." " Did he seem annoyed ?"—" Not at all." " Poor man." This " Poor man" was spoken in a tone impossible to describe. Marguerite took the six notes for 1,000 francs each. " It was time," she said. " My dear Prudence, do you want any money ?" j " You know, my child, that it is within two days of the 15th ; if you cand lend me two or three hundred francs you'll render mo a service." " Send to- morrow morning. It is too late to change."—" Don't forget." " Be easy, do you sup with us ?"—" No, Charles is waiting for me." " Ah, you are still foolish then?"—" He is so kind to me. To- morrow. Adieu, Armand." Madame Duvernay left. Marguerite opened her writing desk and threw in the bank notes. " You will permit me to go to bed ?" she said, smiling and advancing towards the bed. " Not only do I permit it, but I entreat you to do so." She threw back the lace counterpane that covered it, and got into bed. " Now," she said, " come and sit by me and let us talk." I did as she requested. Prudence was right, the reply she had brought her put her into good spirits. " You will pardon me my bad humour this evening 1" she said, taking my hand. " I am ready to pardon you much more than that," I replied. " And you love me ?"—" Madly." " Despite my bad char- acter ?"—" Despite everything." " You swear it me ?"—" Yes," I said softly, and approaching my lips to her's. " And I, also, shall love you greatly," she said to me ; " you shall see." Nanine then entered, carrying plates, a cold fowl, a bottle of Bordeaux, some strawberries, and two covers. " I have not made you any punch," said the girl, " the Bordeaux is better for you. Is it not, Sir ?" " Certainly," I repliod, still moved at Marguerite's last words, and my eyes ardently fixed on her. " Well," she said, " place it on the small table and draw it near the bed; we will help ourselves. For the last three nights you have been up, you must be dead with sleep, go to bed ; I want nothing more." " Must I lock and bolt the entrance door ?" " Yes," and especially give directions that they allow no ono to enter to- morrow before mid- day." Nunine retired, and in a few minutes I was made happy in the arms of Marguerite; and thus we supped and loved, and loved and supped until our weary limbs refused to continue the battle, and a short armistice was mutually agreed upon. CHAPTER XII. At five o'clock in the morning, when the day began to appear through the curtains, Marguerite said to me, " Pardon me, my friend, if I drive you away, but I must. The duke comes every morning ; they will tell him I am asleep when he calls, and lie will wait, perhaps, till I awake." I took between my hands Marguerite's head, whose dishevelled hair flowed over her neck and bosom, and I gave her a last kiss, saying, " When shall I see you again?" " Are you angry with me?'' she said. " Why?" " Becnuse you say ' you' to me." " When shall I see thee again ?" I then said, smiling. " Listen," she said, " take that little gilt key which is on the mantel, ' tis the key of the door ; open it, bring back the key liere? " Where ?" I asked. " In your own room." " You know well I should not sleep." " Then you must not come here and play the sulky, because you find a man in my box." " It is not on that account." " Yes, yes, I am right and you are wrong; so let us say no more about it. After the theatre you will go to Prudence, and you will wait there until I call you. Do you understand?" " Yes," I replied with an involuntary weight on my heart. " You still love me ?" she said. " You ask me." " You have thought of me?" " The whole day." " Do you know that I decidedly think I shall become amorous of you. Just ask Prudence." " Marguerite talks of nothing but you," replied the stout girl, " ' tis quite wearisome." " You will now return to your stall," said Marguerite, " the Count will return, and it is not necessary he should find you here." " Why?" " Because it is disagreeable to you to see him." " Not at all; only it gives me pain to see you with any other man than myself, aud if you had told me you were coming to the Vaudeville to- night, I could have sent you a ticket as well as he." " Unfortunately," replied Marguerite, " he brought it himself without my asking him, and offered to accompany me. You know very well I could not refuse him. All that I could do was to inform you where I was going, that you might see what I did, and I was delighted to see you here so soon; but since it is thus you thank me, I shall profit by the lesson." " I was wrong; pardon me." " With all my heart; return, genteelly, to your place, and above all, let us have no more jealousy.'' She embraced me again, and I left. In the passage, I met the Count returning. I entered my stall! After all, the presence of M. de G in Marguerite's box was a most simple affair. He had been her lover— he brought her a ticket— he accompanied her to the theatre; all this was very natural; and from the moment I had, as a mistress, a girl like Marguerite, I was bound to accept all her habits. It was not the less true, however, that I was very unhappy the rest of the evening, and that I was greatly out of spirits on leaving, after seeing the Count. Prudence and Marguerite entered the caleche that awaited them at the door. And yet, in a quarter of an hour afterwards, I was at Prudence, who had but just entered. ( To be continued.) LONDON KNOCKERBREAKERS. Among the amusements of the young men about town, that which affords the greatest delight appears, manifestly, by ocular demonstration, to be the knocker- wrenching mania. Any sceptic may satisfy himself of this truth by visiting the neighbourhood ol the London University, where he will see many of the doors be- roft of their usual communicative adherents. It is difficult to assign a reason for the thing; whether it be to lesson the tendency to the gregarious habits of mankind by lessening their means of communication, or merely that the young men about town have a predilection for the knockers themselves. We have heard of a medical student, whose great boast is, that he can produce a bushel of knockers, wrenched off by his own individual hand. Now, when he arrives at that time when his friends will expect him to cut his own meat with his own knife, notwithstanding his • penchant, which we attribute to the mercurial propensities ol s P On all Secret Diseases, Generative Weakness, Nervous Debility, & e., with plain directions for cure, Price Gd. ; post free, 8d. By H. WALTON, M It C. S., & e., to ba had only at his Pathological Studie, No. 55, Great Queen- street, I. incoln's- inn- flelds; established 1830, where the Doctor may be consulted daily with the greatest confidence, and without a fee, from 8 in Hie morning till 10 at night ( Sundays included). Dr. Walton's Alterative Specific Pills, 2s. 6d„ and 4s. 6d. per box; ( prepared entirely from Exotic herbs). Tho Restorative Indian Elixir, a sure and speedy remedy for Seminal Weakness, & c., 7s. 6d., and 21s., per bottle. Medicines sent daily to all parts carcfully packed, and secrecy observed. All letters promptly answered if enclosing one stamp. Entrances free from observation,— either of the three doors in the Archway. N. B.— Gonorrhoea perfectly cured within a week. Printed and published for the Proprietors by W. WINN, Holywell- street Strand, where all communications are to be addressed.
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