No. 20. J PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. Parts I., II., and III., are now ready. Ear. li part will be sent direct, on receipt of 18 Postage Stamps. For remote parts, Single Copies may be sent direct from the Office, for Two Postage Stamps. GETTING UP THE LINEN. TALES OF LONDON LIFE, MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OR, TUB MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. ( Continued.) MRS. SPINKS S BROTHERS 6TORY. It was some time ere Mrs. Spinks could recover herself sufficiently to understand where she was, for the joy of meeting with her long- lost brother, Andrew Dawkings, had caused her to faint. The waiter ( for this incident occurred at the hotel, and not, as stated in errata in our last chapter at the honBe of Shadrach) conducted them into a private room. Spinks was the first to speak—" The hand of Heaven must have guided you here to meet us," he said," after so many, many years of absence." " Were you then seeking me?" inquired Andrew ; " it is strange, very strange," he continued, " but I little deemed this lady whom I saw last night at Shadraeh's, was my long. lost sister. Oh, Margaret, Margaret, how earnestly have I for years strove to discover you, and now— now to meet you at a moment when I have also found one that is dearer to me than life is, indeed, happiness." The last portion of these observations was evidently directed to the voting female who accompanied him. " Who, then, is this young lady," inquired Mrs. Spinks, regard- ing the female earnestly. " I have no recollection of her features." " One from whom, I trust, I shall never again part," was the answer; " this is Clara Johnson, an old acquaintance." " This is not the first time I have seen you," interrupted the young woman, " you were at Sh. admclt's Jast night, it was there I saw you." Mrs. Spinks this time really looked surprised, and her confusion was not lessened by her husband observing, that " as all the world appears to have been at Shadrach's some time or other; you will be tolerably well known. I had 110 idea you were such a constant visitor there." Clara, for it was indeed her, rushed to the rescue of Mrs. Spinks, by explaining that it was by accident she had met her. " But how came you to be at such a house," inquired Spinks, searchingly. " I presume you are a married lady ?" It was Clara's turn now to be confused. Spinks perceived it, and with a greater regard for truth than delicacy, pressed the question. " You are rude, Lorimer," said Mrs. Spinks in her peculiar manner, " what is the young lady's affairs to either you or me— it is sufficient forme thatshe is the friend of my brother." Spinks folt that this answer must be sufficient for him, and was silent. Mrs. Spinks, however, continued the conversation.— " There are many explanations which we must come to," she said, " prior to our proceeding further, aud perhaps there is no place better than this. Wo can call for some refreshment and here arrange our plans; for if I have much, Andrew, to do, that will require your assistance." Andrew stared with surprise at his sister, and this was consi- derably increased as she continued: " It is only within the last few hours that I have discovered, beyond all doubt, that we are heirs to the Rod well estate." Mrs. Spinks then proceeded to detail to her brother all the particulars relative to her first meeting with Spiuks and her mar- riage, slightly alluding, in course of her narrative, to her visit to Shudrach's, averring as tlie cause that she had known Mrs. Slia- dracli, in Manchester, and had gone to the house, without, know- ing its character, for the purpose of making a bonnet for her old acquaintance. The astonishment of Spinks, as he heard this de- claration, was profound; he thought of her reported visits to her aunt and was about to inak; some observation, but Mrs. Spinks either did not, or would not, heed him, for she continued the story until she came to that portion of it, where she related the finding of the pocket- book, as narrated in chap. 4. " I remember," said Andrew, interrupting her—" I remember dropping that pocket- book, but the wretches are now all secured, and that book, which was once our mother's, will soon again bo mine." " It was tho knowledge of the existence of that book." replied Mrs. Spinks, " and the hope that you might again visit the house, induced me so frequently to call there, and honce my visit last night." Our heroine continued to relate to her hearers all that had transpired in connection with Gascoigne, his death, and the disco- very of his papers. ' And you are here then," " said her brother, " with a view of discovering the residence of tlie marquis." " Not so," replied Mrs. Spinks, " but the place where our old enemy, Mr. Bailing ton resides, for bad as he is, lie is better than that wretch in human form, the marquis." " You are mistaken," answered her brother quickly, " neither are our enemies." " Can it be possible," said Mrs. Spinks, " are you then ac- quainted with the marquis?" " I am," was tho reply ; " listen, Margaret, for it is a long story. After our mother's death, when contrary to her dying wishes, you aud I were parted; you to undergo the perils and vicissitudes of a London life, and I the dangers of a life upon the ocean. I had not then sufficient knowledge of our family history to comprehend the cause of so much haste in parting us. Mrs. Saunders told mo we should soon again meet. It was seven years ere I again returned to my native land, proving how false was her assertion." " She knew it all, all," interrupted Mrs. Spinks, " base, aud perfidious woman; hut go on, Andrew, I am anxious to hear jour story." . v 2 THE TOWN. 3 " My first visit," continued her brother, " after landing at Li- verpool, was to the house of Mrs. Saunders, when I found out that she had left years since; some said for America, other ' or London ; of you I could hear no account, so after a long and fruitless search, I gave you up as lost to me for ever. The incidents of a sailor's life, although he may see change ot country is not of very varied character. It was during one of my visits to Liverpool that I first became acquainted with this young lady to whom I promised marriage. Misfortune and trouble has been busy with her, bui I will speak of that presently. A few months since during a visit here in London, I was induced by a companion, for the first time in my life, to enter a gambling- house. It was in the neighbour- hood of Mrs. Shadrach's, and I subsequently found myself at her residence. It was there that I imagined that I had lost the pocket- book, and being told that they would endeavour to find it for me was the cause of my visit there last evening. It was whilst wait- ing there, a servant of the house told me she could obtain for me the book, and I was to have received it from her by appointment last evening; that appointment she failed to keep, the cause I have since ascertained; tired of waiting at the public- house she had named, Istiolled into the streets, attracted by thecryoffire — to me a London fire was a novelty, and I followed the crowd until I arrived at a street in the neighbourhood of Soho Square. Here I beheld a spacious building in one mass of flame— the en- gines had not arrived— the crowd was speculating as to whether all the residents had escaped, when suddenly there arose a cry of horror from the mob, some of whom stated that there was to be seen at one of the back windows a young female imploring assist- ance. I found, upon gaining the spot, the report was too true. From a room on the third story at the back of the burning house might be indistinctly seen, for the place was surrounded with buildings, a woman in her night- dress; every chance of es- cape from a dreadful death appearing impossible. To have leaped from the window would but have hurled her into some one of the neighbouring yards, where from its great depth, death would have been certain. Forcing my way through the crowd, I gained a small painter's shop, and snatching up a coil ot rope, I rushed to the yard wall, which, having mounted, I proceeded to endeavour to clamber the long wooden pipe which ran up the whole side of the building to within a few feet of the room of the young woman. The crowd appeared to understand my object, for they cheered me loudly. I, however, called to them to come to my assistance, and secure the rope, which, being done, I Hire-*" the upper portion into the young lady's room. It needs not for me to say more than that my efforts were successful, my seaman's habits enabling me to reach the window, and rescue the poor girl from a dreadful death.'' " God bless my soul," returned Spinks, putting on his spectacles, and looking earnestly in Andrew's face ; " and are you the young man ? Why I read all about it in the Times this morn ing, whilst Margaret was taking her hair out of paper. Don't you remember, my dear, the house belonged to a Mr. Darcie, a lawyer, whose son cut his throat— and it was supposed the young lady was his sweetheart?" " The report," resumed Andrew, " was correct; but, it did not give the name of the lady, for know, Margaret, I have something to tell you which, occurring as it does at this moment, is indeed wonderful. I eventually accompanied the lady to her residence, the house of her father- in- law, in Woburn- place. The delight of Mr. Mereiez, ( for her father- in- law, I found by his accent, was a foreign gentleman), was great at the escape of the young lady. He informed me that her father was up stairs, and that he, also, had met with an accident. In returning from his lawyer's in Lincoln's- inn a short time previous, he had been attacked by a cabman and a female ; they had, however, been secured and con- veyed to the station- house. You may judge my surprise, Margaret, when I learned that the female was Mrs. Shadrach ; whilst the gentleman, the father of the lady whose life I had saved, and the person who had been attacked, was no other than he whom you call our enemy, Jonathan Babington." " Mr. Jonathan Babington," exclaimed Mrs. Spinks; " he, he, with Mrs. Shadrach, what, what can that mean ? I am, Indeed, surprised. I have a yet greater in store for yon," continued her brother " one which must, indeed, startle and surprise you, if all that you. have told me relative to the Marquis de St. C—— be true, Did you not say that he pursued you as a lover 1" " Yes, the vagabond," replied Spinks, " but it • was no use with my wife; my wife is too " " Silence," interrupted Mrs. Spinks. " Well, but my dear, I only wished to explain that " RAILWAY PEOPLE. He was not permitted to finish his sentence, for Mrs. Spinks, to the astonishment of her brother, quietly requested her better- half to leave the apartment if he could not be silent, and desired Andrew to proceed. " Upon being taken to the room of Mr. Babington," said her brother, " I found that he had received a severe blow from a life- protector, which had rendered him nearly senseless; he, however, knew me immediately, and raising himself upon the sofa, he shrieked out with a cry of agony—' it is her child. Forgive me, Andrew, forgive me, the estates are your's;' and fainted. I was horror- struck as much at his appearance as his manner ; for in the horrid form that appeared before me, I could not distinguish a lineament of the features of the once handsome gentleman whom I remembered visiting our mother, as the steward and friend of the proprietor of the Rodwell estate. He remained for several hours in a state of partial madness ; this morning, however, he somewhat recovered, and I then learned that Jonathan Babing- ton and tha Marquis de St. C , were one and the same person." ( To be continued.) A WORD TO THE DIRECTORS. The half- yearly meeting being now close at hand, is a favour- able and fitting opportunity for me to have a little serious talk with you ( although it is rather out of my line) on behalf of the railway clerks employed in the goods' department, for the purpose of drawing your particular attention to the unenviable position they hold in society, and with a view of, if possible, ameliorating their truly- deplorable condition. It should be more generally known amongst you " bigmen," that a goods' clerk week- day's work averages fifteen hours all the year round; that he is frequently obliged to attend 011 Sun- days to clear up matters, and'is always on duty on Good Friday and Christmas Driy, at nothing less than complete drudgery, the mind, as well as the pen, bring constantly employed, and with the exception of one short hour allowed for dinner, he experiences no relief from the incessant fagging he is compelled to undergo, under the surveillance of ill- tempered task- masters in the shape of managers, superintendents, or agents. It should be more generally known among you " bigmen " that, take the goods' clerks as a body, they are a well- conducted, in- telligent race of people ; the principal portion of them have re- ceived a sound education, and are respectably connected; and, taking this into consideration, with the trifling addition of their being thorough practical men, why, let me ask you, should they eke out a miserable existence on 11. or 25s. per week— and in many instances they have a wife and family to maintain besides— when they are really worth, and deserve, at least, double that amount? It surely cannot be because they have no influence with the heads of the establishment, and have got none of you " big men " at their elbows to push them forward, therefore are necessitated to labour for the paltry pittance, for the sake of providing for those near and dear to them— can it? It should be more generally known amongst you " nobs," that goods' clerks have to find security, through the Guarantee So- ciety, for sums of money varying from 150/. to 300/. per annum, and that they are required to pay the premium for the same out of their miserable stipend, numbers of them having cash pass through their hands to a large amount, thus holding important and responsible situations for 50/. or 60/, per year. How can you feel surprised when you hear of a clerk abscond- ing with some of the company's money, while such a state of things exists? Scores of good business men are kept in an inferior birth for months and months, let me remind you, to make room for young friends of you direotors and others, who are continually placing youths on the railway, who are perfectly unacquainted wi'ih the carrying business, to the disadvantage of the experienced clerks, whose only recommendations are their superior abilities. Nor is this the only inconsistency, I am sorry to say, they are doomed to suffer. Setting aside the minor evils of time- books' fines and suspen- sions, it should be more generally known amongst you " trump- cards," that goods' clerks, in nine cases out of ten, are obliged to have their disputed private debts stopped from their wretchedly small salaries, or be dismissed from the company's service in the event of refusing to comply with such an arbitrary hang- you- first- and- judge- you- afterwards mode of proceeding. They are also liable to get the " sack " at a limited notice, after having been in the employ of the company for several years, and trans- acted their duties during the period with zeal and assiduity ; and, unfortunately, they have no remedy for this unjust method of disposing of faithful servants, for if they apply to the goods' ma- nager, he can do nothing in it. You have given him instructions to reduce the staff, such a measure ( according to your account) being indispensable, and he has no alternative but to serve the notices upon those poor devils who have got neither influence or shares to keep them on the line. And so they are turned off, like a parcel of dogs, to seek a living elsewhere, their best ener- gies gone, and nothing saved out of their beggarly screws to replenish the empty exchequer that very shortly follows. Now, these are fact3, and facts, it should be more generally known amongst you " top men," are stubborn things; and I do hope that you will immediately adopt some plan for the perma- nent benefit of these white slaves; pray redress their grievances withont further delay, for you may rely upon it, that if you do not put down all secret and underhanded reporting, give efficient hands an adequate salary, abolish the pernicious system of im- porting fresh people into the railway market to follow a profes- sion they have no just right or claim to, and reward those who have served you long and faithfully, it will most certainly be a decided case of PICKLES MIXED. TOWN TRIFLES. We recollect a very good story that Paul Bedford used to tell of Mrs. Honey, at the time she was proprietress of the City of London Theatre, which we never remember to have seen in print. It was as follows;— When the theatre was first opened, the salaries paid were very low. One of the company, a Mr. K——, ( no matter about his name) found it very difficult to live npon it, much more to make a respectable appearance; at length he be- came so exceedingly shabby as to attract the notice of the fair proprietress; calling him aside one morning at rehearsal, she 00m- piained to him, that his dress was so dilapidated that he was a disgrace to the theatre. " Really, Mr. K •," she continued, " those trousers are scarcely decent, and you have yonr salary- regular." " Yes, Ma'am," he answered, " but then it's so small- only twelve shillings a week."—" Small," exclaimed the lady, with astonishment: " Small— do you call twelve shillings a week small— you are not careful. Why, bless my soul, for example, look at Miss Brown, in the ballet, she has but seven shillings a week, and see how she dresses.".—" Ah," answered the poor actor with a sigh, " Miss Brown sells what I have to purchase." An article made of rushes is called a " Mat," but a subject of discourse, is a " Matter." A place to dwell in, is called a " Room," but a flying report is a " Roomer" ( rumour). A well known wild beast is called a " Bear," but the carrier of anything is a " Bearer." An insect that makes honey is a " Bee" but a liquor made of malt and hops is " Beer." A form to sit upon is called a " Bench," but a senior in the inns of Court is a " Bencher." " A person who is disordered in their mind is " Mad', y but a plant which is used in dying is " Madder." A certain quantity of money is called a " Sum," but the second season of the year is " Summer." Water frozen in flakes is " Snoio" but a noise made through the nostrils, while sleeping, is a " Snower," ( snore). A LOVER'S REQUEST. List, dearest Fanny, List to my lay; Oh, I have many Sweet things to say. Turn those sweet glances Full on my soul; The eye which entrances The heart you controul. That heart you controul, love, You perplex and teaze; I'll give thee the whole, lore, Or part if you please. Til give thee a ring, love, Which Dian might wear 5 But, grant me some treasure Enriched by thy hair. One lock from the many Where scissors have been ; Or one, which not any Dull scissors have seen; Where no favor'd rival Hath recalled before me; To toy with, and trifle, Till rapture passed o'er thee. Who scarcely in dreams, love, His fancy impressed, With the sweet fairy vision Hath fondly caressed. List, dearest Fanny, List to my lay, Still I have many Sweet things to say. ' Your trousers fit exceedingly well,'' said a young swell, to a certain eminent theatrical lady, who was doing a man's part a few evenings since at the Haymarket. " You make a first- rate man— whoever built those kicksies for you." The lady, somewhat annoyed by his manner, turned sharply round, aud elevating the coat tails, exclaimed—" If your anxious upon that point I don't think you could do better tljitn inquire of the person in pso- sesslon." A Spitalfield weaver is a singular genuis; from time immemorial houses have not been considered complete without a loft and pigeon outside there of an evening, with his pipe in his mouth, and a stunning bandana tied upon a stick, whi- tle, and shout, and sing, and watch the flight of dragons, his poulters, and tum- blers. Who so happy as he! Down in the loft, with his fancy tykes, a bull dog, and a spaniel, and hanging up the fancy collars all of a shine, ready for the Sunday morning's walk up to the Rose- mary Branch; there would they talk over the light of other days, and then wind up the morning's devotions by an out and out set- to with the animals ; then they walk home just as some vulgar peo- ple were coming from church, what do they care— innocent re- creation knows no shame. In the evening a friend or two drops in, and so one does now, but his name is Relieving Officer. Susan and Tom being together wed, Unto the pleasures of the marriage bed, Asked the physician which he thought most right For Hymen's sports, the morning or the night. " Why," answered he, as he then deemed it meet, " The morn's more wholesome, but the night's more sweet.' " Well,'' answered Sue, " as we've both time and leisure, We'll each morn for health, each night for pleasure." Swarms of the Swell- mob and west- end play- men, have left London since Monday. Their route is by Bristol, and across the Channel, to meet her Majesty in ould Ireland's principal city, as it is expected they will there reap a great harvest. The cele- brated Mrs. Maria Fletcher, of North Audley- street, has also sig- nified her intention of honouring Dublin with her presence, toge- ther with her six virgins; as she says she has no doubt, a most tremendous stroke of business will be done in the Irish capital We don't know how Mrs. F. will fare amongst the " boys, ' as she has ever shown, both by precept and example, her antipathy to a repeal of the union. It is rumoured that, Newcastle- court, Strand, like Exeter- change, and other respectable localities, is to have a beadle. Mrs. Owen says, " Warliock to his staff." A new kind of stay is advertised in the Times last week, to " wind up with a windlass," WIT AMONGST THE WITLERS. Jemmy Massey's— The King's Head, Old Compton- street. Jem Massey's a bung— don't " keep it dark," The right ' uns all should know it, And those who love a fancy lark, May here, like cripples, go it. The hard- mugged coves who box and mill, With swells, and some few snobs, Meet here each night, with right good will, And punch each other's nobs. Our host he is a thorough brick, Few living doubt his pluck, The TOWN hopes here he'll " do the trick," And wishes him good luck. Conquest's— The Hampshire Hog, Strand. Talk of good manners, of plenty, or quality, This is n jolly good house in reality; Conquest don't stand for repairs. And seems all delightful, With nothing so brightful, As she who, ne'er spiteful, attends to affairs. Mrs. Beale's— Eyre- street- hill. She's short and dark, And loves a lark, But woe the spark Who conies out rude; His breech we'd kick To her " come, old brick, Just cut your stick, You here intrude." She's natty and neat, Good- tempered, discreet, With words as sweet As honey; She'll talk and chaff, Sip, gossip, and laugh, Draws good " haaf and haaf," But always takes the money. The Kemble's 1 Head, Bow- street. The Kemble's Head, on a Monday night, Is the scene of joy, for the lovely light Of Charley's mug is thrown along The faces that shout and try the song; Whilst he, with his timber frame seems to be The hope of the lush- loving company. At u catch or a glee they're all plucky fellows, For they'll " chuck it out,' though tlicy burst their bellows. BEGGING- LETTEER WRITERS* THERE is a set of persons, ingenious and indefatigable in their vocation, who live, and live well too, by writing begging- letters to the nobility and gentry. Joseph Ady was not more expert in Jiis calling than these adventurers are in their* 8, nor more suc- cessful. This overgrown city, which nourishes all sorts of profli- cacy, trickery, and swindling, contains within it hundreds of peo- ple who use the pen and do the pathetic with considerable advan- tage. All the efforts of the police, and mendicity society to boot, have never yet been able to discover, and punish, but one or two cases. The thing is done every day, and yet we seldom hear of the begging- letter imposters being detected and exposed. Their plan is tu get the names of all the nobility and gentry most cele- brated for benevolent and charitable actions. They then sit down aud pen them a most affecting and soul- harrowing epistle, which seldom fails of its effect. If it is signed by the widow of a clergy- man with ten children, aud if fevers, debts, distress, and priva^- tions of all kinds, are brought in as accessories to the melancholy picture, so much the greater chance does the appeal stand of being successful; but even this simple recital has been tried once too often ; and to add to the horror of the scene, a bare and squalid garret, with no article of furniture, but a heap of straw huddled in a corner, which is all the bed the poor creature and her brats have to lie upon, is thrown in to arouse the feelings and excite the charity of the person to whom the letter is addressed. There can be no mistake hero. If the letter- reader doubts the story of the letter- writer, he has nothing to do but to go and satisfy him- self. Ladies are most frequently imposed npon by tales of ficti- tious distress ; they do not like to trust themselves in low neigh- bourhoods, nor run the risk of catching pestilential fevers, for those who know their trade never fail to say that the illness which has caused their misery, is infectious— and thus do they " deceive the senate." We recollect a case of a young woman in Lambeth, who, with considerable ingenuity and success, supported herself and a younger sister, by means of this begging- letter system. She had a garret, taken in a damp and unhealthy situation, which she took care to set forth with all " the trappings and the suits of woe"— that is to say, it had all the indications about it of being the abode of misery, penury, and wretchedness of the deepest and most abject kind. This young lady, however, only " showed" here during a certain portion of the day, and in the evening she re- turned to well- furnished apartments, in a genteel street in the neighbourhood, where she and her sister lived in luxury and com- fort. She frequented the theatres, and denied herself no kind of enjoyment that money could procure; thus making up at night for the privations and feigned sickness, and sorrow, of the day. Her father had been an officer in the army, but being extra- vagant, he got into difficulties, and had recourse to begging- letter writing to supply his necessities. Not having been wary enough, however, he was discovered, and sent to the House of Correction, whither, in process of time, his accomplished daughter, whom suc- cess had rendered equally incautious, followed him. # Whilst writing this article, the ease of the Rev. Mr. Dewhurst, who had been several times remanded at the Lambeth- Mreet Police Court, on chaises of begging- letter writer, comes before us. This person is now committed to take liis trial, consequently, it would be unfair to allude further to him. THE TOWN. 3 MEMOIR OE A FRENCH LADY OF FASHION- ( Continued from our last.) CHAP. XIII. " You are arrived almost as soon we are," said Prudence. " Yes," I mechanically replied ; " where is Marguerite?" " In her own room." " Quite alone?"—" With M. de G ." I paced the room • with rapid steps. " Well ! what's the matter with you ?" " Do you fancy I think it pleasant to wait here until M. de G leaves Marguerite ?" " You are not a bit reasonable. You do not see, frhen, that this poor girl cannot show M. de G to the door ? The count has long known her; he has always given her plenty of money, and still gives it to her. Marguerite spends more than 100,000 francs a- vear ; she has many debts. The duke sends her what she re- quires, but she dares not ask him for all she needB. She must not quarrel with the count, who gives her 10 or 12,000 francs a- year, at the least. Marguerite loves you dearly my friend, but your liason with her must not be serious ; with, your 7 or 8,000 francs a- year, you cannot support the luxury of this girl; it would not even pay her carriage and horses. Take Marguerite for what she is, a very pretty and lively girl, and good, too; be her lover for a month, two months, give her bouquets, bonbons and box- tickets, but never fancy that she must sacrifice her position to you, and do not get up scenes of ridiculous jea- lousy. You know very well with whom you have to do. She is not a paragon of virtue. You please her, you love her, do not trouble yourself about the rest. You have the pretiest mistress in Paris, who receives you in a magnificent apartment, who is covered with diamonds, who will not cost you a shilling if you choose, and you are not satisfied. The Devil! only reflect." " You are right," I said to Prudence, " but the idea that this man is her lover distracts me." " In the first place," said Prudence, " what tells you he is her lover ? He is a man site must humour, that's all. For the last two days she has closed her door to him ; he came this morning, she could not do otherwise than accept the box- ticket he brought her and allow him to accompany her. He conducts her back, ascends to her apartment for a moment, and then leaves. All this is very natural, I think. Besides you are willing to accept the duke?" " Yes, but he is an old man, and I am sure that Marguerite is not his mistress. Besides, one might often accept one liason, but not two. This indulgence makes one appear as if consenting, and making a profit of BO consenting." " Ah ! my dear, how far you are behind !" said Prudence. " How many have I known, and those the noblest, the richest, and the most eleerant! do as I advise you to do, and that without shame and without remorse! We see it daily. Why, what would you have all the gay women in Paris do to maintain them- selves if they had not three or four lovers at a time. There is no fortune, however considerable, that could defray the expeuces of a girl like Marguerite. A fortune of 500,000 francs a- year is an enormous one for France ; well! my dear friend, 500,000 francs a- year would not support it. So that other amours complete the annual income of the gay woman. Marguerite happened to stumble on a rich old millioniarc, who gives her all she asks for without requiring anything in exchange. All young men in Paris know this well, and that what they allow their mistresses cannot support them, but they will shut their eyes or appear to do so. You are a charming lad, whom Hove with all my heart. For the last twenty years I have lived amongst gay women. I know what they are and what they are worth, and it would vex me to think you took seriously the caprice which a pretty girl has con- ceived for you." All this was so logical that I could find no reply ; I gave her my hand and thanked her. " Come, come," she said, " drive away these whimsical ideas of yours and laugh! Life is charming, my dear; just consult your friend Eugene, he seems to understand love just as I do." " What makes you think 60 ?" " Many things," she said, smiling, " but of this you must be quite convinced, or else you are a very insipid youth, thatclose to ns is a very pretty girl who is impatiently sighing for you ; who IOVPS you and who keeps her nights for you, so just come and place yourself at the window with me, and let us see the count depart, who cannot long delay yielding his place to us." At length the count left, entered his carriage and disappeared. Prudence closed her window at the same moment; Marguerite called to her— " Come, quick, they are laying the cloth for supper." When I entered her room, Marguerite ran to me, clung round my neck and kissed me. " Are you still sulky ?" she said to me. " No,' tis past," replied Prudence, " I have been giving him a lecture on morals, and he has promised to be prudent."—" All's well that ends well," replied Marguerite, who again kissed me. Despite myself, I gave a glance at the bed, it was not disturbed; as to Marguerite she was already in her night wrapper. We sat down to supper. I endeavoured to follow the advice of Prudence, and to be as gay as my companions, but. that which with them was nature, with me was effort, and the nervous laugh in which I indulged and in which they were deceived approached very near to fear. At length supper was over, and I remained alone with Marguerite. She seated herself, as usual, on the carpet before the fire, and contemplated with a melancholy look the flames that shot up the chimney. " Come, and sit by me," she said. I laid down at her feet. " Ho you know what I am thinking of ?" she observed, taking my hand.—" No." " Of a plan I have formed."—" And what is this plan ?" " I cannot yet confide it to you, bnt I can tell you its result, which will be that, in a month from this time I shall be free. I shall owe nothing more, and that we will go and pass the summer in the country."—" And you cannot tell me by what means ?" " No. You must simply love me as I love you, and all will be well." " And ' tis you alone who have arranged this plan ?"—" Yes." " And you will execute it alone ?"—" I alone shall have all the trouble," said Marguerite, with a smile I shall never forget, " but we will share the profits." I could not help colouring at this word profits ; I remembered Manon Lescant sharing with Desgrieux the money of M. de B—, and I replied in a tone somewhat harsh, and rising, " You will allow me, my dear Marguerite, to share none but the enterprises I conceive and carry out myself."—" What does that mean ?"— " It means that I strongly suspect M. the count de G—, who has just left, of being your associate in this happy plan, of which I accept neither the charges nor the profits." " You are a child," continued Marguerite, in a sad and gentle voice. " I thought you loved me. I am mistaken, ' tis well." And at the same time she rose, opened her piano, and began playing the Invitation to the Waltz as far as the famous passage that always stopped her. This brought back old remembrances, I took h'er head between my bands and kissed her. " You pardon me ?" I said to her.—" You can see it plainly," she replied, " but remark that we are only at the sccond day, and that already I have something to pardon you. You keep your promise of strict obedience very faithfully." " What would you, Marguerite! I love you too much, and I am jealous of the least of your thoughts. What you told me just now rendered me mud with joy, but the mystery that precedes the execution of this progress, oppresses my heart." " Well, let us reason a little," she resumed, taking my two hands and smiling. " You love me, do you not ? and you would be happy to pass three or four months in the country with me ; I too should be happy in this solitude, and indeed my health requires it. I cannot quit Paris for so long a time without putting my affairs in order, and the affairs of a woman like me are always in some mess ; well, I have found the means of ar- ranging all, my affairs and my love for you ; and here you are giving yourself grand airs and'talking great words to me. Child, only remember that I love you, and trouble yourself about nothing. Is it agreed, eh ?"—" All that you wish is agreed to." " Then within a month we shall be in some village, walking by the side of streams and drinking milk.'' An hour after this we were in bed, I clasped Marguerite in my arms, and had she com- manded me to commit a crime I should have obeyed her. At six o'clock in the morning, I left, saying to Marguerite, " To- night." She gave me a rapturous kiss, but did not reply. In the course of the day I received a note from her in these words: " DEAR BOY,— I am a little suffering, and the physician has ordered me repose. I shall go to bed early to- night, and shall not see you. But to recompense you I shall expect you to- morrow by mid- day. My love to you." My first words were, " She is deceiving me !" A cold sweat bedewed my forehead as this suspicion flashed across me. I then thought, as I had the key, of going to see her as usual. In this way I should soon learn the truth, and if I found a man with her, I would strike him. At eleven o'clock I repaired to the Rue d'Antin. There was no light in Marguerite's windows. Never- theless, I rang. The porter inquired where I was going. " To Mademoiselle Gautier," I replied. " She is not returned."—" I will go up and wait," was my reply. " There is no one in her rooms." It was evident he had orders which I could break through as I had the key, but I dreaded a ridiculous scene, and therefore retired. I did not, however, go home, I could not quit the streets, nor did I lose sight of Marguerite's house. I fancied I had still something to learn, or at least that my suspicions were about to be confirmed. About twelve o'clock, a carriage I well knew drove up to No. 9. The Count de G— descended from it, and after dismissing it entered Marguerite's house. For a moment, I hoped that, like myself he would be told that Marguerite had not returned, and that I should see him leave; but at four o'clock in the morning he was still there! I have greatly suffered the last three weeks, but it is nothing in comparison to what I suffered on that night. CHAPTER XIV. When I entered my own room, I commenced crying like a child, and at length determined to quit Paris. Still I would not depart withou letting Marguerite know my reason for so doing, and also that I knew she had deceived me. It is only the man who loves his mistress no longer that quits her without a word. I formed and reformed twenty letters in my head, I had to do with a girl like all girls of pleasure, and the following is what I wrote in my most elegant hand, and with tears of rage and grief in my eyes:— " MY DEAR MARGUERITE, " I hope your indisposition of yesterday was but trifling. At eleven o'clock last night, I called to inquire for you, and was in- formed you had not returned. M. de G— was more fortunate than myself, for he presented himself shortly after, and at four in the morning, he was still with you. " Pardon me the few dull hours I have caused you to pass, and be assured, I shall never forget the happy moments I owe to you. I should readily call to inquire for you to- day, but I intend re- turning to my father. " Adieu, my dear Marguerite, I am neither rich enough to love you as I would, nor poor enough to love you as you would. Let us, forget then, you, a name which must be almost indifferent to you, and I, a happiness that is almost impossible for me. " I send you back your key, which I have not made use of, but which may be useful to you if you are often ill as you were yesterday." You see I had not firmness enough to finish the letter without an impertinent irony which proved how amorous I still was. I read and re- read the letter a dozen times, and the idea that it would pain Marguerite calmed me a little, and when my servant entered at eight o'clock, I gave him the letter to deliver. " Must I wait for a reply ?" inquired Joseph. " If you are asked if there is any reply, you will say you do not. know, and you will wait." I cleaved to the hope that she would reply and disculpate herself. Poor and weak- miuded that we are! The whole time my servant, was away, I was in an extreme agitation. I fancied I should have done better not to have written, but to have gone to her in the course of the day, when I should have enjoyed the tears I should have made her slied. At length Joseph returned. " Well," I said to him. " Monsieur," he replied, " Madame was in bed and asleep, but the moment she rings, they will deliver her the letter, and if there is a reply tliey will bring it." She slept! Twenty times I was on the point of sending for the letter, but I still said, they have already given it to her, and it would look as if I repented. At one o'clock I was still waiting. I then went out under the pretence of breakfasting. Inssead of doing this at the Caf6 Foy, at the corner of the boulevard, as was my habit, I preferred breakfasting at the Palais Royal, and passing by the rue d'Antin. Nothing indicated at the house of No. 9, that material upset which a moral one always makes us imagine. At five o'clock I hastened to the Champs Elysees. If I meet her, I thought, I will assume an indifferent manner, and she will be convinced that I no longer think anything about her. At the turning of the rue Royale, I saw her pass in her car- riage ; the encounter was so abrupt that I turned pale. I am un- certain whether she saw my emotion. I was in such confusion that I only remarked her carriage. I did not continue my walk to the Champs Elysees ; I looked at the bills of the theatres, for I had still a chance of seeing her. There was a first representation at the Palais Royal; Mar- guerite would assuredly be there. I was at the theatre by seven o'clock. All the boxes were filled, but Marguerite did not appear. I then quitted the Palais Royal and entered every theatre she usually visited, but I could see nothing of her. Either my letter had wounded her too deeply for her to enjoy the theatre, or she dreaded to meet me, and wished to avoid an ex- planation. As my vanity thus whispered to me, I met Eugene on the boulevard, who inquired where I had been. " At the Palais Royal."—" And I at the Italiens," he said to me, " indeed, I expected to see you there."—" Why ?"—" Because Marguerite was there." " Ah! she was there?"—" Yes." " Alone ?"—'" No, with one of her female friends." " No others ?" —" The count de G— visited her box for a moment, but she retired with the duke. I expected to see you every moment. There was a stall next to her's vacant the whole evening, and I felt assured it was engaged by you." " But why should I go where Marguerite is ?" I said to Eugene when I knew all I wished to know. " Because you are her lover, faith."—" And who told you so ?" " Prudence, whom I met yesterday. I congratulate you, my boy, she is a pretty mistress, envied by all. Take care of her, she will be an honor to you." The next morning, at nine o'clock, I went to Prudence's, who inquired to what she owed this early visit. I dared not tell her frankly what brought me, so I replied that I had gone early to retain a place in the diligence to C—, where my father lived. " You are very lucky," she said," to be able to quit Paris in such fine weather." I looked at Prudence to see if she was jesting with me, but her countenance, was serious. " Will you say adieu to Marguerite ?' she continued. " No."—" You do right."—" You think so ?" " 01' courso, since you have broken with her, where is the use of seeing her again." " You know of our rupture then ?"—" She showed me your letter." " Ancl what, did she say to you ?"—" Slie said to me,' My dear Prudence, your protege is not polite; we meditate such letters, but we do not write them.'" " And in what tone did she say this to you ?''—" Laughing, and she added,' He has supped twice with me, and he does not even pay me a visit of digestion.'" Such was the effect produced by my letter and my scruples. I was cruelly humbled in the vanity of my love. " And what did she do yesterday evening ?" I asked.—" She went to the Italiens." " I know — and afterwards?"—" She supped at home."— Alone?" ( To be continued). AN IRISH FUNERAL IN LONDON A walking funeral, on a wet day, in the streets of London, more especially an Irish one, calls forth the most miserable feelings the mind is capable of entertaining ; though mixed up with a sense of the ludicrous, in contemplating the studied looks of the mourners, and the unstudied material and arrangement of their garb. Behold the two mechanically lugubrious automatons, painted black, each furnished with a black pole, surmounted by a muffled blade- bone of a shoulder of mutton, followed by a coffin covered by a dirty pall thrown over in front, exposing the plain elm boards, and the screwed- up shiny faces of the two first sup- porters. Then follow the mourners. First in order come the nearest relations of the retiring mortality ; after whom, the mere acquaintance and boon companions, and a few stragglers in the rear, wind up the melancholy procession. Observe the poor little fellow with his hand fast locked in that of his mother's; he has a slight knowledge of something having happened by the wet eyes of his mother. He hardly knows what; he is smiling and appears as if he would be sorry when it is all over. Evidently it is fun to him ; he takes off his little soiled white hat, and ad- justs the crape, looking up in his mother's face for a token of approbation. He little thinks what a lengthened struggle the poor woman may have to go through, to bring up himself and his younger brother and sisters; how she will have to work the flesh from her fingers; how she will have to apply to the work- house for a little assistance to help her on ; and how she will be refused unless she bring herself and children within its walls, to be kept in a state of mere existence, shut out from the light of heaven. God help him 1 if he knew this, he would walk with a steadier pace, and with a less happier countenance ; but he knows it not, and he his happy. The more remote relatives are in their labouring clothes, all covered with Jime, and their dirty white stockings and feet encased in thick muddy shoes, brimful of water; but the undertaker's cloaks cover their blue coats and bright buttons, and they endeavour to look as miserable as the occasion requires. The stragglers, both men and women, are smoking, chatting, laughing, and contemplating the amusements of the evening; after the usual quantity of fanaticism shall have been acted over the grave. Let no man debar another of his own peculiar pleasure, even if it be to see a poor fellow- creature take his departure with a swing and a pull, and a heartless " hurrah !" and, therefore, let them pass on and break as many heads, and have as many of their own broken, as may be satisfactory to both parties. The procession now enters the church- y >.• 1,11 plentifully studded by noble dock," ( vide George ltobn. , me neigh bourhood of the Court for Insolvent Debtors. The records are not in existence whereby the fact may be known, whether this plant is indigenous to the place, or whether it be only the v -;- i n- consequence of a playful sexton iu by- gone years, who wished u> remind passers- by that they must come to dock at last. But so it is a perfect forest of dock covers the dark bouses ot the sleepers. After waiting the convenience of the worthy pastor, wet through and through by the uncompromising deluge, and fixed up to the knees in stiff clay, the set prayers are recited in the accustomed manner— that is to say, in as short a time as possible — and the corpse is lowered into six feet of water, and covered up as comfortably as can be expected, amid the howling and gnash- ing of teeth of the hired weepers. Among the many schemes that have taken hold on the public mind lately, it is rather a matter of astonishment, that there has been no " General Burial Company instituted by act of Parlia- ment, Victoria, cap. 5." Such a thing would take amazingly, particularly among the poorer class of people; and we might be buried very decently. A hearse and a pair of horses might be furnished cheaper than the annoyance of a walking funeral pro- vided at present by the profession. Ia calling it an auuoyance, no one must take offence, not even an undertaker himself; it is strictly an annoyance, and in more ways than one. Now, many a follower is invited to attend the ceremony, who has not a shadow of regard for the memory of the deceased; and it is no joke to try to look sorrowful; in fact, in many cases it can't be done. We are not all hypocrites, God be praised! The late Sir Andrew might have enticed the corners of his mouth down, and squeezed a tear from his eye, but it is doubtful if it would have been taken for genuine sorrow after all. To appear at a funeral as a mere spectator, it is apt to call forth unpleasant remarks from the by- standers, leaving alone your own mental cogitations thereon. Now, a covered- up conveyance must strike every one as a great convenience in hiding that which is so necessary to be hidden; and the evil being onlyto be remedied by cheapness, it is strongly recommended that a company should be forthwith established, with power to issue as many shares at a small amount per share, as will raise the necessary capital ; and there can be no doubt the benefit conferred would be immense, notwithstanding the many sudden deaths there would be by way of experiment. THE ASH HAS WON.— When the ash tree opens its leaf before the oak, a wet summer usually follows, and when the oak tree opens its leaf before the ash, a dry summer usually follows. This year the ash opened first. SELF LOVE.— Every man is prompted by the love of himself, to imagine he possesses some qualities superior either in kind or in degree, to those which he sees allotted to the rest of the world; and whatever apparent disadvantages he may suffer in comparison with others, he has some invisible distinctions, some latent reserve of excellence which he throws into the balance, and by which he generally fancies that it is turned in his favour. NEW STRAND WIT. Should Stirling or Compton e'er quarrel and fight, Which we hope they will not, else, odd rot ' em, Though Compton might show the most science and spite, Stirling would show the most bottom. AN EASTERN WOMAN'S IDEA OP LOVE.— As a woman was walking, a man followed and looked at her; the woman said " Why do you follow me?" " Because I have fallen in love with you," was the other. The woman continued, " That's silly; my sister, who is following, is much handsomer; go and make love to her." The man turned back, but saw a woman with a very ugly face. Much displeased, he returned to the woman, " You have told me a falsehood," he said angrily. " Neither did you speak the truth," she said ; " for if you were really in love* with me, why did you leave me to look after my sister ?" The new Casino building in Great Windmill Street, when finished, will be the handsomest, and at the same time, largest room in London. It is to be opened in October, and the whole of the celebrated Laurent's band, together with the conductor, are en- gaged. The building is being erected on the site of the old Fives Court, and is the property of Mr. Bicknell, the proprietor of the celebrated wine and supper rooms. 4 THE TOWN. W ® TI © E T ® TIE TllIH. The Trade are informed that they may have handbills and posters, on application; and that No. 1 will be sold to tho Trade at half the usual price, viz., two dozen for the price usually charged for one. Should they find any difficulty in obtaining the TOWN from their regular agent, they are requested to send their orders direct, with the amount in stamps. And tho 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, jlotircs to < Sorcci3poit>! c: i{ s. All communications for the " TOWN" to bo directed in future to Mr. H. G. BROOKS, care of Mr. W. WINN. In consequence of tho severe indisposition of the writer, tho " Confessions of a Pickpocket" must stand over till our next. The engraving in our first page was intended to illustrate an incident in that story. MOTIIER ALISON.— This wretch still carries on her blackguard and disgusting trade, assisted by Long Charley Jefferies. Our correspondent who writes to us is, however, informed that an indictment has been preferred against these blots upon human nature, by the Parochial Authorities; and this time there will, at least, be no mistake— The girl, Charlotte T-— w, is not more than thirteen years of age, and the man (?) isacicarand in his sixty- seventh year. F. G. M. ( Liverpool.)— You should send us an article of your own at once, instead of finding fault with other people. We are afraid, however, we could not give you more than half a crown a line for your contributions, and we suppose that would scarcely pay you. Did you ever hear of a person who wrote a dictionary, and answers to the name of Wsxlker ? A FRIEND TO THE TOWN, ( Walworth.)— Must have been elabo- rately drunk when he wrote to us ; every sentence proves him to have been in a condition of gin. SALMON GDTS. ( Norwich.)— You are a queer blade like your signature. We are sorry we cannot pay the visit you desire. S. T. R. ( Long- acre.)— The fellow has beon transported twice, three of his sisters are on the town, and his mother died in Cold- bath prison about two years since, for passing base coin. THE CHAFPCUTTEHS, BERKHAMSTEAD.— Of course Joe got im- mensely swipy at tho dinner, beer and billiards is all he can think of; the first makes him stupid, and the latter shows it. What's our friend R. done with the trap ? how about the spill with the pony, on the 25th tilt? BE A BRICK, ( Mile End- road.)— It is our intention to resume our " Cock and Hen Club" articles. RUM TUM, ( Jermyn- street.)— The brass plate on the door is all humbug, the house is a brothel, the proprietoress a Frenchwo- man, and her husband keeps a house of the same character in the Isle of Wight. " Pcncillings of Pretty Women," have been received and shall ap- pear in due course, probably next week. A COVE TIIAT STOPS OUT LATE shonld do as the TOWN does, sup between 8 and 9, that's the healthy hour. We don't wonder, however, at Spicc, the boiled buttock of beef bloke, making a fortune, if he vends bread at the rate of " four and sixpence a quartern ;" and acts very proper if he can get fiats to pay it. p. H. Y—— T, ( Leather- lane.)— Write to the Governor of Whitecross- street Prison. FLASH BOY, ( Old Kent- road,) is like his signature. We, liow- ever, know of no Act of Parliament forbidding people drinking gin. We only know you must pay the duty if you do drink it, and five bob if you put away too much. The lines on " Paternoster and Co., the new beer building, Stan- hope- street," are funny but personal. We will write something about it ourselves next week. A CLERIC, ( Waverton- station.)— Seriously we would advise our correspondent to at once adopt the plan recommended on a certain occasion, by Dr. Abernethy, to a patie. t, viz.:—" to go and bag his head." B. G. R. ( Liverpool.)— Pooh, pooh; we are not doctors. Try an ounce of prussic acid ; it is a certain cure for ehillblains, and, indeed, everything, from a corn to a consumption. It beats all the life pills into fits. TOWNSMAN.— Old Morton Box is living and, what is more, still sings a very excellent song. He may bo found any night at the Old Drury' corner of Vinegar- yard, the house formerly kept by Dutch Sam. < FC. D. P. ( Ely.)— We don't understand your letter. R. GUTHRIE, ( Charing cross.)— Wait a few days, as we purpose publishing a collection of slap- up songs ; all spicy chaunts and no mistake. ALPHA, ( Liverpool).— It wouldn't be lucky for the lady to be married to the gentleman you allude to, seeing that her hus- band is still alive, and known in London as one of the most popular comic singers of the day. A. C. R. ( Fleet- street).— A man who could be base enough to coin such a question, would soon find mettle sufficient to do some- thing worse. You cannot counterfeit your intentions from us; if, however, you are very anxious to obtain the imformation, apply to Mr. Haywood, of the City Police. W. H. L. ( Stowbriage.)— This correspondent, who writes about Orangemen and Ribandmen, but whose name or direction we cannot make out, his L's being like S's and S's like L's, must write plainer. A LONDON AMOROSO.— We should think it quite safe. Stand the racket and we will go and try. A READER.—( Glasgow).— How many more times are we to answer the question relative to the " Honey- moon Corres- pondence?" read, however, an answer to " Ellen Webster," in No. 12 of the TOWN. The other articles will be completed in duo course. " WELL UP."—" Soyer's Nectar" will be continued next week. The illness of the editor, and press of other and more interesting matter being the cause of its omission. Other correspondents next week. and, taking off his tile, vould beat his fist inside it, and give a sort of whistle; it was, I suppose, a sort of hinwitation to the hanima^ to go with him to Bethnal Green. It would appear that between the two hanimals there was a sort of hiustinct for the four legged von vould rush forward as if to inquire arter the two legged von's hoalth and happiness, but the two legged von sprung like light- ening ahout of Mr Bull's vay, and he, pleased vith his friends dancing, vould still keep folloring him vith delight, every now and then making a plunge forard vile another facetious gentleman vould pull him by the tail backwards so that between the hanx- iety of the hanimal to get to his friends and their kind attentions, hedtryand leave them altogether. Veil, then, off he goes up Vite Chapel like mad, and in course his friends followed, vonder- ing vot vos the matter vith the warmint, and worry hanxious they seemed for his health and happiness, and a werry good hinspccter of pavements he vas. It was hextonishing how he cleared it of the stalls; it vas delightful to vatch the Taglioni movements of a lady iu the cod and hoyster line vith vat a graceful and hagile bound she used to get to the other side of the stall, and try the artful dodge; it vas dodge here and doge there, till tAio hanimal, not understanding it, began the hargument by clearing avay the houter vorks, and avay vent cod and hoysters into the hairy regions, then thinking that the good old lady and her cod should not be disunited, vith vot a polite bow and toss of his head, did he helevate her to a place among the gods, and then vith vot a shout of hunanimous happrobation did his friends behind greet him. Avay he goes, until at last he reaches Bethnal Green then the hank began, until at last, tired vith their sport and wearied out, both bull and beast guve up the game. Now, this here sort o fun by itself vas werrry veil, but it so hoccurred that during the gallop of the bull, pieces of cloth and handkerchiefs vould disappear like magic from the doors of their rightful howners ; a number of gentlemany men vould assist a frightened voman into a shop for safety. Veil, that vas polite ; but then five minutes arter she could'nt find heither purse or pocket; of course it warn't the gentlemen took it— it must have dropped ; houses have had un- inwited people in ' em ; tills and cash boxes were never heard no more until at last people said bull hanking vas neither more nor less than another sort of hank, vich they vere determined to untwist. Veil, then, this guve rise to desperate things. Bare- faced robberies, attended vith cruelty, took place until at last Bethnal Green received a wisit from Mr Law ( not the Recorder at the Stone Jug). It's hextonishing, vith his yellow face and shrivelled up form vot a strong man Mr Law is. A few woeks after his wisit, it vas hextonishing vot a holteration took place, and so vot between his wisit at the Green and his valks to Newgate Street bull- hanking died, but not in the vay that many of its lovers did; it died a nateral death. They ( at least many of them) were so game at it, they got choked off; it is now only remembered as a wision of the past glories of Bethnal Green and Vite Chapel. PEOPLE ABOUT No. I. TOWN. SL P- UP SNUGGERIES. No. I. — o- No. 12, BRYDQES- STREET, CATHERINE- STREET. " One half the world know not how the other half live."— OLD SATIKG. IN commencing a series of articles under the above head, we do not deem it necessary to enter into an explanation of the motives which influence us so to act,, farther than to observe that it is from a desire of affording amusement and instruction to our pa- trons, the readers. Of this publication, our selection will be found as varied as the localities themselves, presenting characters aud circumstances as we find them, without, however, wounding thefeelings or injuring the position of any individual. We know there are a class of moody, mock- moralizing, methodistical mon- strosities about town who, without the ability to appreciate, or the judgment to imitate, may, carp, and cavil at our writing upon the above subjects; to such unadulterated humbugs who have ever a speculum for the sins of others, whilst they, themselves, in secret, sin— we can have nothing to say— we have nothing in common with them— they are the wet- blanket? of society, and it is not for such THE TOWN exists. The establishment selected for the first of these sketches, has been chosen by reason of its recent opening, and with these prefatory observations, we intro- duce to ourreaders No. 12, BRYDGES- ST., CATIIERINE- ST. The all- seeing eye of the TOWN, peers everywhere, its corpus amplifies every locality, and its digiiorial continuations grapple with every description of frivolity. Such were our reflections, as a few evenings since, we rotatorized our editorial structure through the above once- famed street of Shicksterian sensuality. As we gazed upon mother H ' s, and beheld its portals closed, we, sighing, thought of the joys of the days that have gone— the fiashey funniments that we have seen in this " flesh- market.," Where, we inwarldy exclaimed, are the Jane Phillips's, The Primrose girl, Ellen Foster, little Lady B , Pretty Char- lotte Carter, Champaigne Charley— Cab- and- Tiger- Jemmy. MR. HARRY FOX, ( THE WARBLING WAGGONER). THE singing rooms of the metropolis have, for some years past, introducedtothe public, both London and provincial, but more especially to the latter, a class of individuals who may be looked upon as a species of off- shoot from the theatrical stem, known to us by the name of professional singers, which class have again been divided into another section, and cognomenized as character singers. These persons differ as much in their abilities and claims for public support, as they do in their name and appear- ance; thus, there are the " top- sawyers" in the profession, who live principally by " their dinners," i. e., singing nt public dinners o' taking double engagements, singing aftor 12 at night ; but, who never, under any circumstances, alter their physiognomies with paint, or change their costume for anything of a theatrical description. This class combines both comic and sentimental, and amongst them we must mention the names of Glindon, J. Martin, J. W. Sharp, Hyams, Charles Sloman, Bruton, Trinkleo, and Benson. Such men as Jem Lawson, Pearce, and one or two other good singers in their way, whom we could name, from the peculiar loudness of their style, seldom, however, go to dinner parties. Mr. H. Fox, the subject of the present sketch, although what ia essentially termed a character singer, that is, illustrates his songs, by dressing them in appropriate costume, does sing, and is a great favorite at dinners, and few, very few men are better known, either in London or the provinces, than Mr. F. Harry has been for many years, professionally, before the public, and although anything but a cake, himself knows something of their composi- tion, having served his time to the polite and fashionable art of flour spoiling, id est u baker. It is now nearly sixteen years since we first heard Harry attempt the chaunting business, that being in the classic neighbourhood of the Broadway Westminster ; even then he was a lad of promise, and Momus seemed to claim him as his child. He subsequently appeared at all the principal Loudon concert- rooms; but, eventually, removed into the provinces, and was engaged in all the principal towns in tho north, by which means he acquired his unrivalled power of delineating provincial character. Upon his return to London, his success was unprece- dented, some of the best engagements in town being offered to him; he, however, for many years, connected himself with tho Bagnigge wells Tavern, where he was a great favorite. Since tftat period he has beon engaged at the Harmonic Hall, in the Borough, and recently at Norwich, where he created a great sensa- tion, drawing crowded houses every evening. Fox's style of sing- ing is natural, quaint, and humorous— his tones are somewhat harsh, but there is a manner about him, which causes that, in a great measure, to pass unnoticed. His appearance, both in and out of character, is the antipodes of melancholy, looking what he is, a jolly, jovial, good- humoured, good- hearted fellow. There are some songs which he has made peculiarly hisown ; for instance, " The Warbling Waggoner," " Haymaking," and " I can do my Beer," and those who have not heard him, have, indeed, lost a treat, which they will do well, as speedily as possible, to regain. IEGENDS OF SCOTTISH SUPERSTITION— Being a Complete His- J torv of the Marvellous Transactions of the Middle Ages. Modern scep- tics who doubt the existence of witches are warned to read the well- authen- ticated recitals of this work. THE SONGS OP SCOTLAND— All collected into one little volume, price two- pence. No one who loves his country should be without this pocket companion. Complete for one penny, THE HORRORS OP EMIGRATION ! or. the Miseries, Privations, and Dangers Endured in a Strange Country; Murders and Robberies by the Natives! Fearful Shipwrecks from Ilotten Ships, & c.. Exposure'of Agents who will get you Transported to tho Land of Disease and Swarms of Vermin ! A Shilling's Worth for a Pennv. CUPID'S SECRET GUIDE to the Pretty Women and Handsome Yo « ng Men, their I'ortumes, Set'.., One Pennv. THE BOYS' OWN ILLUSTRATED HANDBOOK OF ANGLING, em- bellished by Fourteen Engravings; as much information as in a halt- 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 all situations of life. 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The whole of the above works to be had of W, WINN, Ilolywell- street, Strand, London, and of al! Booksellers. A COSTERMONGER'S LECTURE. A BULL HANK. AT von time a Spitalfields' vever held a himportant place in the page of historic history. If there was a mill of forty miles out, off vent Bill Shuttle the night afore, and vot vos more, not no wether stopped him. He took his pigeon vith him, and the hodds vas that his pals knew who vos the vinner fust. Veil, at a match of knock-' em- downs, Bill Shuttle vould floor the lot vith most hextonishing speed; a foot race, Bill came it ; and a fair toe and heeler. Bill vos a match for some of the best; but vot vos his chief delight, vot must have delighted the lieges of Bill Gibbons himself— they were fond of getliug a rumti- turn out. You could see them vatcliing in Vite Chapel on a Monday, the warious droves vot comed in from Smithfield ; you could see von on'em lieying the hanimal vith the look of a conasure ( and sometimes the drove vas in the lark); veil, the hanimal used to vander avay from the rest, a looking hinnocently at the number of the houses ; then a vistle vas all at vonce heard— sieh a vistle has is seldom dreamed on now ; veil, then, you'd see a number of people come out of warious streets, and hendeavour to drive the hanimal to the slarter- house, but somehow or the other they always druve him the wrong vay ; up ho kicks his heels, and avay he begins for to valk; it was then that a werry suspectible gentleman, dressed in a seedy black coat and vaiscoat, a yellow vipe round his squeeze, corduroy kicksies ou his hind quarters, and vite stockings and high- lows on his understandings, yould yalk afore the hanimal, " Two o'clock in the morning Emma"— where, where are they all gone— and, in the beautiful flowery language of Tom Moor- e, we sang— " Oh, where, and oh, where, are the old blowings gone? Like early plucked roses they pine," & c., & c. Verily, verily, we continued, achange has come o'er tire spirit of the scene— even the Elysium is closed— Lipman has cut his stick and but for the little cigar shop at No 23J, and the witticisms of pretty Mrs. Hart, Brydges- street would be a perfoct desert; as these thoughts ranged through our brain, a sound suddenly fell upon our ear which aroused us from our reflective position; it was the merry blithesome laugh of a woman, followed by a slight scream, or shriek, not the cry of positive distress, but a joyous ringing sound, that stir up- warm pleasurable sentiments in the mind of the hearer, creating a general rising of the system in its desire to afford assistance. A poet, whose name we forget, has truly depicted the power, the oharm, such a call has upon the susceptibilities of our nature. " Woman's wild cry description braves, To paint it, language is but weak; A very little makes her laugh, Whilst objects larger, make her shriek." And soon were we made sensible of the whereabouts from whence this sound proceeded; we four- i that just one door from H—' s deserted mansion, had been o, oned a shop for the sale, not of cigars— not of fancy perfumery— smoking caps— soda water— or any of the thousand and one little inducements with which clever pieces of muslin adorn their windows, to seductionize custom— no — nothing of the kind, but opened positively for the sale of PICKLED GHERKINS. Think not that we are jesting, gentle, or rather genteel reader of the TOWN, for we are writing in positive sober seriousness. No. 12, Brydges- street is opened for the vend- ing of pickles and fruit. Gherkins being in the ascendant; we found that the house was kept by our good- humoured French friend Madame B——, formerly of the Charles- st. pickle- depot, assisted by one or two fair demoiselles, who, Eve- like, en- deavour to tempt the passer- by to drop in and taste their fruit.— We ultimately ascertained that, it was from one of these damsels that the cry, alluded to above, proceeded; and we, accordingly, felt our duty to enter the shop. We found everything as it should be, the fruit in the front shop excellent, and the pickles ( we preferred mixed) in the little back parlour first- rate. The parlour is a choice little snuggery, furnished with a library of moral and instructive works, one of which, Doddridge's " Rise and Progress,' we were attentively perusing with Madame's sister (?), when the cigar swell from the city entered, and we were compelled, sud- denly, to leave, purposing, however, again to pay a visit to No. 12, and " take a Gherkin." 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