No. 21.; PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNY. Paris I., II., and III., are now ready. Each part will be sent dire ot, on receipt of 18 Postage Stamps. For remote parts, Single Copies may be sent direct from the Office, for Two Postage Stamps. " DON'T JEM, THE GRASS IS DAMP,' • FUN IN THIS FIELDS !" We think we hear the reader of the TOWN exclaiming " Fan in the Fields, Mr. TOWN, that is a very indefinite title." So it is, is our answer, and wo love it, we cherish It, for that very reason. Why should not we have our fun in tho field, as well as in the cholera- tainted, crowded atmosphero of the city? Why should not the merry laugh resound in the fresh, clear, invigorating air, or a joyous swain even go so far as to steal a kiss from the lip of beauty, beneath a haycock? We know that there are not wanting those who may consider this highly reprehensible— who censure the harmless toyings of youth— pre- ferring the filth of a metropolitan stew to a frolick with a female friend in a field. Our artist has this week, however, sketched lomething of this last named character. " Done," exclaims the girl. " Have done, Jem, the grass is damp ;" and, perhaps, the merry wench has in her recollection the aphorisms— " That there is more to be feared from a fall on the grass, Than a slip on a frozen river." doubtless she is correct. Kissing is at all times dangerous— and, upon thisfoint, we may quote the language of a correspondent :— Are kisses all ? they but forerun Another duty to be done. What would you of that minstrel say, Who tunes his pipe and will not play ? Say, what are blossoms in their prime, That ripen not in harvest time ? Or, what arc buds that ne'er disclose The longed for sweetness of the rose! So, kisses to a lover's guest, Are invitations— not the feast. Gaze upon this week's design, and say if our correspondent is • Ot in the right of it— remembering that " To the pure all things are pure. ™ , CONFESSIONS OF A PICKPOCKET CHAP. IV. A GOOD NIGHT'S REST DISTURBED— COVENT GARDEN MARKET AND COFFEE STALLS, THIRTY TEARS AGO. THE reader left me in bed with Louisa, and I was just getting comfortably warm when I was compelled to get up. The cause was a very simple one; Maltey Mary, the woman we had heard singing, and who lived on the second floor, had thought proper to go out for a drop of beer to make herself comfortable, as she termed, before going to bed, and being three- fouiths- and- a- half drunk, she had got into a quarrel with some fellows at the public house. Three of their women, however, had followed her home, which ended in a jolly row and a fight in the passage, terminating in one of the combatants falling against our parlour door and bursting it open, coming heels- uppermost into our apart- ment. I jumped out of bed, but in thedarkness, one of the women, seized hold of me and tore my shirt nearly to ribbons, leaving me barely sufficient to cover my chest. Louisa rushed to my assist- ance, but she, poor girl, fared, if possible, even worse, for she not only had the sternal portion of the night- dress torn off by these she devils, but received a severe blow upon the nose from a door- key. I leave the reader to fancy what a glorious row this must have been, more especially when they take into consideration that it was four o'clock in the morning, and in a quiet neighbour- hood. The whole house was raised by the disturbance, the shrieks of Lousia bringing the watchmen to the door and Mrs. Murray and the other lodgers down stairs, and, you may guess, we presented a very pretty tableaux vivants. The combatants were secured and taken to the watch- house, and Lousia was compellod to dress herself and go after them to prefer the charge. " You must come too, Frank," said Louisa laughing, as she saw me making an effort to string my dilapidated drapery together and form it into something like a shirt. " Don't look so down on your luck, my cock, because you've got your flesh- bag torn; your mother, I suppose, will whop you when you get home," she con- tinued, " and think you've been up to some queer larks; at any rate, Frank, if you meet with an accident to your kickseys, the boys can't call after you, and say, thero you go with your shirt out, for you've none to show." I felt my pride hurt at this allusion, and pulling on my trou- sers, I tucked my shirt in my cap, and then continued dressing myself. Mrs. Murray entered the room as I was finishing my toilette, and observing Louisa dressing herself, severely lectured her for dressing herself before a boy like me, and told her she had no sort of decency about her. Louisa answered her very sharply, and muttered something about " my knowing perhaps as much as she did," and she " hated such a parcel of mock modesty." I thought Lousia and Mrs. Murray would have quarrelled, for Louisa observed, perhaps you'll be afraid to trust your boy with me to the watch- house. Mrs. Murray did not, however, objeot to this, and we at once proceeded to the watch- house next to St. Paul's, Covent Garden. There was a robbery case, and a street fight to be heard before our charge came on, and it was half- past five before we left the watch- house; the three were locked up to answer the charge in the morning, and poor Maltey Mary shared the same fate for getting enraged with the night constable, who was rather grog- blossomey and stupid. She shoved a few dozen good oaths into him, and concluded by calling him a " maggotty faced old fool," for which she was locked up. Leaving our four female friends ( qy.) in the watch- houss, my- self and Louisa crossed the road, and came through Covent- garden, which, thirty years since, was a very different place to what it is now. Heaps of filth met you at every turn, and houseless, wretched vagabonds, were to be seen sleeping nightly in droves. 2 THE TOWN. Atone corner, facing James's- street, stood a large temporary coffee- shop or stall, kept by the notorious Tom Battey, who was afterwards hung for murdering his wife— her mother, and two infant children * Tom was on the lonk out for custom, he, accordingly, arrested us, Louisa asked rne if I would have a cup and saying I would have one, as I was cold, she accordingly slipped a shilling into my hand, saying, " it would look better for m The'oid'man drew the two cups of coffee, and then looking hard at Louisa, asked her if the young man ( meaning me) " would stand a dodger in it.'' X didn't know what this meant, hut Louisa evidently understood him tor she answered immediately, " Oh, yes, it's a cold morning, it won't hurt us." Battey, accordingly, took from a tin box a long stone bottle, from which he poured a couple of glasses of rum, and emptied into each of the coffee- cups. " T. ke one for yourself, daddy," said Louisa it won't hurt you." The old man poured out another glass, saying, he would drink it presently, and put it upon one side in a coffee cup.— Louisa, however, told him she would have none of those rigs, he must drink now or she did'nt pay for it, and finally the old thief ( for such I afterwards found he was) swallowed the contents of the glass. " X suppose you are going up the hill, to see the poor lads turned off this morning." he enquired. " I knew little Jemmy well, he was only drinking coffee at this very stall three weeks ago." I knew enough of London slang from my short imprisonment •• with my father, to know those observations alluded to an execu- tion that was about to take place. I, therefore, inquired when the person was to be hung. " There's eight of ' em to be put away this morning," he an- swered—" four for housebreaking, one for picking pockets, one for forgery, another for sheep- stealing, and the last is Little Jemmy's case, which I considers the worst of the lot." " What's it, for then?" asked Louisa. " Why, they call it a rape,'' answered the old man, contemptu- ously ; " it's for getting too cozey with Big Bet, the nurse- girl at Sohard's, the oil- man's, in Long- acre. You know Jemmy was always a devil among the women." " Well, I'm sure," exclaimed Louisa ; " she's a pretty madam, I don't, think, to hang a man— as if any man could hurt her." " Why, do you know," continued the old man, pointing to some of the urchins that were lying about upon the rubbish ; " one'or two of those boys could tell some fine larks about Jemmy. A few weeks ago he was making up to one of the girls at the Laun- dry, in Tavistock- street; and while kissing and hugging her in the washimr- place, one of these ragged, half- starved boys got over the palings, and seized some of the toggery that was hang- ing up to flry ; the dog, however, seized holrt of him, and a rare row there was, and no mistake. I thought that was getting up the linen." ( See engraving No. 20, TOWN) " Did you ever see an old Bailey show V said Louisa. " I never saw any one hung yet; but they say you should always see one lot, or it an't lucky; it's too late to think of going to Mur- ray's. What do you say to go ?" I told Louisa I had no objection, for the thing was a novelty to me. " But is it not too early f" I inquired. She informed me it was jnst the proper time, aa we could wait in the coffee- shop. We accordingly proceeded to witness the execution, through which I narrowly esoaped with my life, as I shall detail in the next chapter. ( To be continued.) TALES OF LONDON LIFE. MRS, LORIMER SPINKS; on, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. ( Continued.) A VISIT TO BOULOGNE!. BY THE MAN ABOUT TOW*. ( Concluded from No. 18.) Varden, unacquainted with the strange combination of circum- stances that had transpired since he parted with the Marquis— or Mr. Babington, as we shall now call him— was, at about one and the same moment that Gascoigne was Being conveyed lifeless to the surgeons and Mrs. Shadrach making her murderous attempt upon Babington's life, entering St. Giles's, and accosted the Slasher, as described in Chapter 10. Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of young Saunders, he could not have looked more astonished. The woman Jenny had removed the mad actor, and the Slasher was, consequently, alone with the man whom, of all others he deemed the most likely to apprehend him for the recent robbery at Rodwell Hall. " Mr. Varden!'' he exclaimed, stepping back a pace, and placing his hand inliis back coat pocket. " You here I You are quick upon us." Varden observed the action of the Slasher, and quickly placed his hand upon his arm, ere he could withdraw it from his pocket. He said, sharply— " You need be under no fear; there's no necessity for the pro- duction of your bull- dogs." " What do you mean ?" answered the Slasher, endeavouring to release his arm from the grasp of Varden; " what do you mean? Let go my arm, sir, or you'll repent it." " I thought you were feeling in your pocket for a pistol," replied Varden, quickly; " because, if so, here are a pair. Take your choice, Mr. Saunders." The action was momentary, for as he loosened the arm of the Slasher, ere the latter could draw his hand from his pocket, he felt a couple of pistols close to his breast. The Slasher recoiled for a moment, for he felt that, to call for assistance or retreat within the doorway was impossible, and he was, therefore, completely at the mercy of Varden. The heavy leaden life- protector which he had drawn from his pocket, hung useless in his hand. " What is the meaning of this, Mr. Varden?" said the Slasher, choking with rage. " It is many years since we have met, and " " And," interrupted Varden quickly, " you have a very queer way of renewing the acquaintanceship. I am here to save your life, which, at this moment, is in imminent peril; in return, yon must aid me." " Ah," exclaimed Saunders, looking round to discover if there was yet any assistance, " and you therefore suppose that I am in your power." " NoffSense," answered Varden, quickly, " I have come to ap- prise you of your danger," " Can this be true ?" said the Slasher. " Listen," was the reply. " Your companions are all secured, and the police are even now upon your track." " And what is your purpose here? " said the Slasher, retiring within the doorway ; " how can I serve you. Is Mr. Babbington still living?" Ere Varden could answer these queries he was alarmed by a shrill whistle, and a woman rushed quickly by him, shouting at the top of her voice, " Nammus ( run), Bill, nammus, the peelers are upon your heels ;" at that instant he felt something pass between his legs, lift him completely from the ground, and hurl him with considerable violence upon his back into the road— Varden instinctively opened the paper, and holding it to the light, perceived, written in a bold hand, these words— " Varden,— If your are a friend, hear, see, and say nothing." He had scarce time to reflect upon the strangeness of these lines, or gaze around for the bearer, who was gone, ere his atten- tion was again called to the parapets of the houses. During the brief interval that had elapsed of his observation indicative of the doubting the pursued upon the house- top being the Slasher, and the reading of the note, two police officers had succeeded in gain- ing the roof of the house upon which the white- hatted individual was disporting himself, and a shout from the mob declared that the police had secured the person they at least were in pursuit of; at the same moment, it exposed their chagrin and disappointment, for a voice from the party seized, loud, shrill, clear, but boyish, vociferated— " Can't yer let us be, what harm his I doing? What's yer chasing me over the roof for?" Whilst the crowd in the street shrieked in reply—" Bravo Cap- tain Flash— good lad; done the olever shisurs, after all." ' The police dragged the boy— for it was indeed that unfortunate child, known to the reader as Captain Flash— to the station- house, insisting upon knowing where Saunders had concealed him- self. He pertinaciously declared that he knew nothing of the object of their search. Varden, however, was satisfied upon that point, a second ex- amination of his note showing him that the handwriting was that of the Slasher, whom he now knew to have been the female with the children, who in the confusion had escaped detection. " An excellently- worked manoeuvre," he exclaimed. " Ere I sleep, I must now visit Mrs. Saunders, for this materially alters my plans." Making all haste to quit the neighbourhood of St. Giles's, he crossed Broad- street, continued to thread a number of little turn- ings diverging from Monmouth- street, until he arrived at a dirty avenue at the back of the Brewery. Here he halted in front of a low- looking house. Ascertaining that this was the abode of Mrs. Saunders, he proceeded to a room on the third story. A feeble voice replied to his demand for admittance, and having lifted the latch and entered the apartment, he found himself in the presence of the extraordinary woman so often mentioned in the course of this tale, Mrs. Saunders. The apartment of Mrs. Saunders was a large roomy one, any- thing but meanly furnished; there being, on the contrary an air of comfort about it, that a stranger would not have anticipated finding in such a house. Upon a large table in the centre of the room was laid upon a clean damask cloth, some cold meat, a small jar of pickles a loaf cheese, and a pint of porter ; whilst the faint light of a rushcandle showed that the occupant was in bed. The sight of a stranger evidently caused some embarrassment to the woman, for raising herself in the bed, she inquired with diffi- culty his business there. " Do you not then know me, Mrs. Saunders ?" said Varden, in his blandest manner; he was about to continue the sentence, but the old woman interrupted him with a sharp shrill cry of recog- nition, exclaiming— " Can my ears deceive me— is it possible— surely it is Robert Varden ?" " You are correct," answered Varden. " I trust I do not dis- turb you, but business of the greatest importance compels mc to visit you at this unseemly hour ; and I could not trust the sub- ject upon paper." " Light the candle that you will find upon the table," said Mrs. Saunders, not heeding Varden's observation, " and seat yourself by the side of me, for I have much to say to you, and my son Saun- ders will soon return." " Does he then sleep here ?" inquired Varden, " Oh, no," answered Mrs Saunders. " Alas, he is much altered since you last saw him. My heart, Mr. Varden, is nearly at the same time he heard a loud derisive laugh, which he knew „ to be that of the boy called Captain Flash, who called out— broken," as she uttered these words she gave vent to a deep sigh. . By a little blarney to the soldier who kept the passage, I got through into the searching- room long before my turn, and the expostulations of my less fortunate companions, made in a mix- ture of Houndsditeh English and Houndsditch French, made me linger at the bar to enjoy it. Into that anti- room was crowded the most sweltering mass of pretentious vulgarity that ever was, I . verily believe, got together. And now for an hotel. The three hundred tonters who always surround the quay have been, I am glad to find, removed to some distance, and knowing what is to be turned loose among these savages, all pulling you at once, thrusting their cards down your throat, and calling out " Hotel du Tondres," " Meurice," " Hotel de France," and a hundred other sounds, only mingled with the voices of a few English Jews ; before I ventured into the crowd, I sung out lustily, " Hotel du ," and forthwith the touters of that establishment formed a body- guard, and conveyed us safe through the villains. The Hotel du , is one of the first inns in the town. This I know, for I have passed through Boulogne at least a dozen times, and I have stayed the night at nearly all the large inns of the place. Upon arriving, the first thing was to get rooms; the se- cond, to supper. What travelled Englishman does not know the the luxury of a French bed- room. The thousand little conve- niences which our English hotel- keepers wot not of. The car- petted room, the polished mahogany bestead with its high- piled mattrasses, appearing so compact and elegant that it would scarcely be noticed to be out of character in a drawing- room. Cockney, expect not to see this at Boulogne. You will have a beastly imi- tation of it— a thing which will give as much idea of the reality as tho country cousin who sees Hamlet played at Bartholomew fair has of the Hamlet of John Kemble. Our room had, indeed, the Spanish mahogany bedstead, but it looked naked, mean, and miserable; the furniture was ill- assorted and in bad taste. A cockney would have gone into ecstacies at the bedstead and bed- ding, aud would have sent the chambermaid away wondering what the poor John Bulls could see to wonder at, and virtuously rejoicing that the poor savages could come over to France to see something of civilisation once in their lives. We expostulated, and were met by a stare of astonishment at the idea of English people not being delighted with everything that was shown them, and then by an assurance, verified by inspection, that the room was one of the best in the house. The salon belonging to it was just about equal in quality to the bedroom, neither better nor worse. A magnificent ormolu clock and rush- bottomed chairs may give an idea of its furniture. Now, for supper nothing hot could be had. The cuisine was closed, but they gave us a dry cold chicken, a lump of cold beef, about a dozen almonds, two apples, and a lump of Gloucester cheese, all put upon the table with as much ceremony as though it was a repast worthy of Sardanapalus. It was ail pretension fas the French use the word), done with a patronising air, but without an atom of attention and civility which is so grateful to meet with at the well- conducted continental inns. I insisted upon having somo Gruyere cheese, and having got it, after a long protest from the garcon that the hard Gloucester was much better, I made a supper from it and a bottle of vin ordinaire. We then received one of the nastiest tin candlesticks I ever touched, and went up to bed. " This won't do, Nanny," said I, turning round in bed and tak ing up the extinguisher. " This is rather different to our lodgings in the Chasse d'Antin." " A sad difference;" and out went the candle. So much for my first night at Boulogne. * The circumstance here alluded to occurred in Kent- street, at a hous k » pt for the recaption of stolen goods, by Battey. He confessed to murder them, from a suspicion of his wile and mother having robbed him. Jame^ ir. rir, or. " Little Jirmty," as he is called, was pardoned as it was found • >- iDtncent.— Eo. Towir. " Halloa, my swell kiddy, you thought to bowl the Slasher out, but you see you're caught at your own game." Upon regaining his feet, he found the door of the house, where the Slasher had been standing, surrounded by a crowd of persons, the majority of whom he could see by the style of their dress were either cadgers or thieves. Three men were beating violently at the door demanding ad- mittance, whom Varden ascertained were members of the detec- tive force. Several of the regular police now arrived, and pro- ceeded to clear the crowd of thieves from the pavement. " If this door is not instantly opened, Mother Jackson," called out one of the officers to a woman that appeared at the second- floor window, " we'll burst it open; these games won't do for us. You've got Master Slasher inhere, and Slasher as he is, he'll find he's trapped this time." Mother Jackson, as she was named, made no answer, but a voice in the crowd called out " Vorker," and then there was a sound with the mouth like an imitation of the cornet- a- piston. In a few moments the door was opened, and the police rushed in, two or three being left to guard the entrance. Almost immedi- ately the first- floor window was thrown up, and an officer de- sired some of them to go round to the back of the house, as Saunders was escaping by the ruins. " Doh't be fools, my lads," he shouted to the mob; " be quick, for, remember, there's two hundred pounds reward for whoever takes him.'' " Put your reward where the devil put the brass candlesticks, 1 halloed a voice in the crowd, and then followed a loud laugh. Varden had stood quietly observing the scene of confusion be- fore him, and, for a few moments, was undecided what steps to pursue. He could perceive that the police were at fault, for, al- though they had been kept at the door but a few moments, it appeared to have been sufficient for Saunders to escape. The police were not, however, so easily to be defeated, as several were now to be seen upon the house- top, searching anxiously along the parapets, and throwing the light of their bull's- eyes upon the op- posite houses. At this juncture, a person was seen to dart from behind the stack of chimneys of a building a few houses from where the police were searching; at the same moment, the moonlight dis- played a figure attired in the well- known white hat, long great coat, and shawl worn by young Saunders. A scream, almost like one of joy arose from the crowd at this appearance, followed by cries of— " Go it, Slasher— bravo, ould lad, give the cads ( police) the double." The officers, however, had seen the figure, n ! two of them in- stantly gave chase, one of them mounting the projecting parapet of the adjoining house, and clambering across the chimneys at the hazard of his life. Still, the person who was the object of pursuit, did not appear to a casual observer so anxious to escape as to give the police trouble. Being an excellent climber he mounted the parapets and slid round the ends of some of the houses in a manner worthy of a monkey, always contriving to keep s pursuers at a respectful distance. " Surely," exclaimed Varden, his interest in the scene leading him so far as to forget himself as to speak aloud, " that cannot be the Slasher, it is too short and too nimble." He had scarcely uttered these words when his attention was drawn to a tall elderly female, the picture of squalid misery, who came from the house near where he was standing, carrying in her arms an infant, and followed by three small children, holding on by her tattered dress. The woman was breathing curses loud and deep upon the proprietors of the house for refusing to permit her and her family to sleep there, because, as she said, she had not the full amount of her lodging. Varden's observation had evi- dently reached the female, lor she paused for a second, and then one of the children returned and held out its hand; Varden ima- gined for the purpose of asking charity, buthe perceived the child held a piece of paper, which, having taken from her, she said- " Mother says you are to read that, sir, if you please." " I have long anxiously wished to see you or Mr. Babbington," she continued, " and now that I do meet you, the astonishment almost deprives me of memory." Varden having lighted the candle, seated himself upon a chair near the bed, and was thus enabled to have a full view of her features. The deep lines of trouble, rather than of old age, were plainly marked upon her brow ; whilst the sunken eye- brow be- tokened an individual of deep thought. In her younger days she must have been what the world would term a noble looking woman— there being, even now, a commanding majesty about her that could not fail to excite attention. Varden continued his gaze for a few minutes, when Mrs. Saun- ders broke the silence by observing— " Doubtless, Mr. Varden, you think me much changed; illness and trouble destroy the strongest frames." " Have you, then, been long ill?" said Varden, with something of solicitude in his tone. " I have been in this bed four years, to- morrow," was her an- swer, " my limbs are powerless, and the medical man tells me I shall never regain their use—" but," she added, changing her tone, " I must not weary you with my troubles— let me know the cause of this visit." " I will do so," replied Varden, " and briefly. You are ac- quainted, as I know, with every particular connected with the Rodwell family— you and another person being the only indivi- duals who witnessed the dying moments of the last legitimate male inheritor of that, property, E mean Sir Andrew, sometimes called Old Sir Anthony Rodwell;" as he spoke this sentence Varden laid a strong emphasis upon the words legitimate male heir, and closely scrutinized the features of Mrs. S. He did not, however, observe any change, and he therefore continued—" You know also that for years, that property has been in Chancery, placed there by Mr. Dareie, who was appointed co- trustee with Mr. Babbington, for tho benefit, of the heir at law." " Are not, then, Babbington and Darcie friends," enquiredMrs. Saunders. " No," was the reply, " nor have not been for years ; yon must also be aware that Mr. Babbington was compelled to give up the hall, and was charged by Darcie, with embezzling and placing to his own use vast sums of money belonging to the estate.'' " This is, to me, news," replied Mrs. S.; " that then accounts for my letters, which I have written to Mr. Babbington, never having been answered." Varden now continued at some length to describe to his com- panion, that Babbington having secured several thousand pounds, had left the country, travelling upon the continent under the title of the Marquis de St. C , the accident, already described chapter 4, having so disfigured him as to render it impossible for any one to recognise him. That within the last few months a person from the United States, a distant branch of the Rodwell family, had written to Mr. Darcie, and signified his intention of visiting this country and putting in his claim to the estate, a claim \\ hich, it appeared, the lawyer was favourable to, as it would probahly be the means of exposing the delinquencies of Bab- bington. " Under these circumstances," continued Varden, " it was to our interest to find out the true heirs to the estate, place them in the property, first, making our own terms with them for the deficiencies. You, Mrs. Saunders, are acquainted with the cir- cumstances of the death of Mrs. Dawkings, the daughter of Sir Andrew Rodwell, and you know that she left two children." Mrs. Saunders had listened thus far with marked attention, never for an instant attempting to interrupt, but the moment Varden mentioned the name of Mrs. Dawkings, she raised herself in the bed, her eyes flashing with an unnatural light, and every fibre of her frame appearing agitated with passion; " yes," she exclaimed, " one of tho bastards, I fear, are still living; may she perish in beggary like her mother." Varden did not appear to notice this sudden outburst, but con- tinued his story, by informing her that he knew to whom she THE TOWN. 3 alluded, viz.— Mrs. Spinks, and added that Mr. Babbington had by accident met her at Shadrach's, where, struck by her like- ness to her mother, he had fallen in love with her. " Within the last few hours," said Varden, " a lucky accident has placed in my possession a letter written by Sir Andrew to his daughter Margaret, and I am induced to believe that she was married to Dawkings, and hence both children are legitimate." " You have quessed correct," answered the old woman," she was married and there is a certificate still existing; it is the truth of that circumstance that has cheered me in my misery ; the sweetness of the knowledge that she had died with a blighted name, and her children were toiling in beggary as bastards, when they should have revelled in a proud estate, has sustained me through years of trouble and sickness. I vowed to ruin her and hers, and I have kept my vow." During the time Mr. Saunders had been indulging in these invectives, Varden had discovered the loss of his pocket- book ; he judged it, however, to be prudent to • conceal this circumstance, and endeavour, if possible, to obtain possession of the certificate. " I have heard," he said, " that you have good cause thus to curse the name of Dawkings." " I have, I have 1" answered Mrs. Saunders, " but for her ac- cursed tongue, Dawkings would have been my husband. After I had listened to his talos of love breathed into my girlish ear, and fallen a victim to his soductive acts, it was a consolation, a balm to my injured honour, to know, that although he had deeeived me, his partner, my earliest friend, was doomed to suffer for her treachery." " You were acquainted, then, with Dawkings prior to his mar- riage with Miss Margaret Rodwell," said Varden. " Yes," answered Mrs. Saunders, " we were children together, J her earliest companion, and he her cousin, my first love. But he deceived me, and I have had my revenge; for it was through my management her father never saw her. I intercepted every letter. Mr. Babbington's mad passion for her, even after she had become a widow, you are acquainted with, and more than once ho nearly frustrated my deeply laid schemes of vengeance. In her dying moments she despatched a letter to her father— that letter contained the certificate of her marriage. Neither, however, ever reached tin old man. He died ere the morning. The certifi- cate I placed in a secret panel in the old hall, the means of open- ing which is known to none living save myself— the letter I gave to Babbington. At my death, my son shall know the secret, for there are other valuables in that panel, which the papers I ever keep beneath my pillow, will then explain." A flush passed over the countenance of Varden, a9 he heard the old woman utter these Words, and it at once occurred to him that he might, with but little difficulty, secure this important docu- ment." They were alone; it was past midnight, and she a weak infirm old woman. " Mrs. Saunders," he exclaimed, " you must give me that paper, for the certificate must be produced to prove the legitimacy of Mrs. Spinks, and entitle her to the estate." " What?" shrieked Mrs. Saunders, the violence of her passion almost lifting her from the bed. " Give up the certificate ? let her child inherit the estate; man, man, you drive me mad ; the very thought is distraction; sooner would I part with life than give up that paper." " Foolish old woman," exclaimed Varden, " give me the papers; a handsome fortune will be your reward, and it may be useful to your son, who is now in the hands of the police, for a robbery at Rodwell- hall, 011 Sunday last." Mrs. Saunders heard 110 more, her hands dropped useless by her side, her speech forsook her, and she fell back on the pillow. It seemed as if her whole existence was bound up in the safety of her boy; for ruffian reprobate as he was, though he had caused her present illness, through a blow, she still loved him— loved him with that intensity which nothing under heaven can equal — the love of a mother for an only child. Vnrden, who imagined that the shock had proved too much for her, and that the vital spark had fled, thought this an excellent opportunity to secure the papers; and, regardless of her age or state, roughly tossed her head from the pillow, and commenced searching for the documents. The action, however, had aroused the old wo- man, who seized the ruffian by the throat, just as his hand had alighted upon a bundle of papers. " Wretch," she exclaimed, " would you rob a dying woman— Help, help, help," she vociferated, her shrioks each time growing ouder. " Don't make a noise" Mrs. Saunders," he answered coolly, endeavouring, at the same time, to force the pillow over her mouth, and cause suffocation. " My dear Mrs. Saunders, you'll be better presently. There," he added, " that will make you better;" as he spoke the hands of the old woman were nearly severed from her wrists by a knife, and Vardeu instantly darted from tho room. On the staircase he encountered a man and a female, and, supposing the old woman's cries bad alarmed them, he, in a muffled voice, exclaimed, as he flew past—" Quick, quick, up stairs— there is an old woman dying in a fit; I am going for a doctor!" " Great G— d, Lizy," ejaculated a voice which Varden knew to be the Slasher's; " it must be my poor mother." ( To be contim ed.) TOWN TRIFLES. STYLE, EVERYTHING.— A languishing young creature thus writes to the TOWN, on tinted paper, and with sky- blue ink :— " With a million blushes lighting up my cheek, oceans of wither- ing thoughts, and whirlwinds of sorrow, indignation, despair, and shame, raging in that metropolis of the human frame the heart; with manifold shakings and tremblings of those provinces of humanity, the limbs, I lay before you a moiety of poetry— Last week I gave my hand and heart, And— you know what beside, To handsome, flattering Peter Smart, Who took me for his bride. We dined and supped, then went up stairs, List, Mr. TOWN, don't weep, Dear Peter knelt and said his prayers, And then he went to— sleep I A strange wedding took place in Cork a few days since. Just before the nuptials, the police arrived to arrest the bride, charged with having abetted her brother in a recent abduction case. The very considerate constables, however, allowed the ceremony to be completed, and then hurried the bride to prison. Since that, the bridegroom has decamped with the wife of the landlord of the house in which he resided. The Hon. Captain II. M— e took Jane Seyton to witness the recent mock siege at Chatham. After it was over, some of the military gentlemen stepped up to the carriage, and in the course of conversation asked the pretty Irish girl how she had liked it, and if she had noticed how active the — regiment were. " Oh, yes," she answered, " I noticed them particularly, for the officers are all so very small." " Ah, but," replied the gentleman, " see how very large the privates are." HIGHLY REVOLUTIONARY.— A Scotch paper announces, that at the moment of going to press, several thousands are up in arms in London. Yes, the babbies. At a meeting lately held at Exeter, it was proposed, with a view of carrying out the early- closing movement, that every young man should sign a pledge not to marry a woman who went a shopping after six, averring that, " if the ladies cannot get their things ready in that time, they are not worth having." Fat Old Mother Langton, whose daughter is now living with the Earl of D———, took in her head last week, whilst coming from the Bank, to pass through Smithfield, where her attention was drawn to a crowd of persons round a street preacher. Mrs, L. stopped to listen ; the text was " The wild ass feedeth on the east wind ;" when Kate Henderson, who accompanied her ex- claimed, " well, I'm blowed if that ass would do for your old man, mother, for he must have been a lean'un." " There are many sorts of asses, my child," answered the worthy matron, " this must have been a consumptive alderman." A female has been arrested at St. Louis ( U. S.), and bound over, under a charge of sending a challenge to another, to meet her in mortal combat. In her letter she says, " I have got my husband's piece ; if you are a true woman, bring your's; I'll stand its fire, no matter how large it may be." " Manchester," said the Times in a recent leader, " is made out of nothing. The whole city is nursed from the dunghill, and set amongst princes." Not much of a compliment considering what princes are made of in the present day. " The Sultan," the Medical Times announced some time back, " had ordered a quarter cask of Chloroform for the ladies of his seraglio." He has just received another. This is putting the stopper on the women with a vengeance. RAILWAY PEOPLE. A friend of our's took apartments last summer at Brighton. " Have you any other lodgers?" he inquired. " Yes," was the reply, " one; perhaps you may UnoW him, sir— Mr. Sheridan Knowles." " What, the great writer 1" ' Yes, he is a writer," she answered; " but I don't know much for his great writing, for he's been hero more than a week, ami lie's only written two letters." As I walked out one winter's night, When the bright stars were shining ; A nymph I spied, a form of light, Against a floor reclining. Her ringlets fiow'd adown her cheeks, Which was as red as roses, Two hillocks through her boddice peeps, And those a charm discloses. " Come maid," I said, " and go with me, And leave this smoky London town, Come to the North, I'll give to thee, A kirtle fine, and satin gown. There's gear enough for thee and me, And forests wild'in which to sport; Where we will bound like deer ffee." The fair nymph hiccup'd," That's yer sort. " There's deep glens, and murmuring rills, Fit sport for lovers whispered vows, And sweet., sweet vales and lofty hills, A place from all the earth to choose ; I've gear enough for me and theo, We need not care nor toil to win." The fair nymph looked, and said to me— " Come, buffer, let us have some gin !" POOR MISS MEEK.— Our engaging friend, Miss Meek, the Glasgow Mother Emmerson, has again, we regret to learn, got into trouble with " the Bailies." It's very shameful, those con- founded officials will interfere with the private enjoyments of the Jamaica- street swells. Some of the lads of the club at Forsyths talk of getting up a subscription for her. Kinloch, when he heard of it, said it was a very proper subject for " The French Horn." An Irish paper says a vessel arrived from New York last week, brought the large quantity of 57J tons weight of shot and shells consigned to order. Although similar importations have taken place, the arrival of so large a quantity of these articles at this moment is remarkable." What docs the fool mean by " this mo- ment?" Perhaps he thinks they're for " young Ireland" to wel- come the Queen, A DEVILISH GOOD STORY. A farmer once lived in the land of Pope Figs, On whom Satan thought proper to play off some rigs ; But then Satan was green you must know, For a bargain he made, that when harvest came round, The farmer should have all his grain above ground, And the devil should have all below. So the farm it was sown, and in due time it was reaped ; The farmer disposed of his crop, and he leaped With joy as he counted the tin. Then the devil he grubbed up the seeds in the soil, And he found them all rotten— his share of the spoil Had been dear at a quartern of Gin. " Enraged," quoth Dan Satan, " next year, my old cove, - You shall have all below, and I'll have all above." Quoth the farmer," Agreed"— mighty civil. So he sowed all his fields full of carrots, not grain, And at harvest he booked all the profits again, And took a long sight at the devil. Then his highness began to look blacker than black, " And," says he," though I'm off, in a week I'll be back, And then, farmer, we'll have a set- to ; When, if claws are worth twopence, just look to your hide." " I'll be happy to see you then," the farmer replied, And, touching his castor, withdrew. But, in spite of big words he was frightened, because He knew that his nails were no match for long olaws, Hoofs, horns, and a breath of blue flame ; So in his utter dismay he fell scratching his crown, When scratching his horns, soon reminded the clown To seek the advice of his dame. The case being stated, the wife answered, " Pooh ! I'll manage it for you ; I'll soon get you through ; Be cheered, my dear hub, and be bold." He was cheered, and he gave her a kiss, chaste and kind, If he did nothing more— you'll be pleased, sir, to mind, That the dame was some sixty years old. On the morning appointed, old Beelzebub came, His heart full of wrath, and his mouth full of flame, And he stamped, and he roared like a brick ; So the dame popped her spouse through the little back door, And laid herself down full length on the floor, And so waited to welcome old nick. " What a howl she set up at the demon's entre, How she writhed and contorted as prostrate she lay ! " What's the row ?" quoth the power of the air. " Oh, Lord ! could I catch him ! which way did he run ? I'm ruined— I'm killed— I shall die— I'm undone. Oh, good devil! I pray you beware. " Beware of my husband— he told me a match Had been made ' twixt yon two for a battle and scratch, And to try his vile talous, he prayed That I'd just let him touch ( here she fiddled her clothes) With the least of his fingers, between my great toes, And see what a gash he has made!" There's a tale, that Carlotta ( I think) said last season, " I can't tink to- night, vat de deuce is de reason Dat my dancing de pit so bewitches." " Nor I," quoth Mr. L.; " and yet, dear, I'm afraid You're hardly aware what this night you've displayed— You've forgotten to put on your breeches." What Carlotta revealed I can't venture to guess, And whoever a question indecent should press, Most richly deserves to be colted. But ' twas something like something the wife must have shown. For he'd scarcely espied it when, uttering a groan, " Oh Lord !" quoth the devil and bolted. THE MODEL SHAREHOLDER. He has got a slate off his roof, has lost or mislaid his top but- ton, and knows as much as three people, two dead and tho other asleep. He is as sharp as a blunt knife, and about as lively as a two months' old second- hand leech. lie often plays the fool, and would act to perfection the part of Mr. Merryman, who inquires of the immortal Widdicomb, of Astley's, what ho can como for to go for to fetch for to carry for to bring, if he could only tumble to it. He holds a large quantity of shares in the railwav, and firmly believes, that although they have not at present realised any dividend, there will be, very shortly, one declared of eight per cent.; he is quite sure there will, because the chairman has gua- ranteed it; and altogether, he considers it a " capital" invest- ment. He never troubles his head about the market price of shares, being quite satisfied nothing will ever lower them in his estima- tion. Although he is somewhat hard of hearing, he is never deaf to the " calls," but pays them up regular and cheerfully. The chairman told him there was " a good time coming," and he is content to " wait a little longer." He does not seem to care about " originals," but gives certain other shares the " pre- ference," having a confused and vague notion of sharing ratcably in the general profits of the company. There are different sorts of shares, but for his part he does not care much what sort of stock he possesses so long as they all share and share alike; and as the line has not paid the ghost of a dividend for the last two years, he, at least, has the satisfaction of knowing he has shared as much as the others, viz., nii." He is willing to put down any sum the chairman deems proper to name as a deposit towards establishing a depreciation fund, and is equally willing to do any other similar foolish trick. He has no faith in an amalgamation, and votes against it, and re- pudiates the idea of consolidating his shares with those of another company, although it is the only plan to save their line fram utter ruin, and rescue the proprietors from having their propj^ y swept entirely away. He never sends a proxy to the half- yearly meeting, but at- tends in propria personce ; not that he lias the brains to see bow the shareholders are being bamboozled by the directors, and the " nous" to propose a plain, straightforward, business way of managing affairs in future, for the benefit of all concerned in the speculation, but merely to disgorge himself of anything but a short, neat, and appropriate speech, and give vent to such sounds as would be derogatory to tho dignity of a Smithfield- nuisance drover. Ho is very clamorous, and puts numberless irrelavent ques- tions to the chairman, in blissful ignorance of what he is doing, who, however, " chokes " him off in the easiest manner imagin- able, on the shortest notice, if not on the most reasonable terms, and at last so completely browbeats him, that he is compelled to evaporate from the assemblage, with a remarkably keen sense of his own insignificance, and heartily wishing, in the excitement of the moment, he was safely out of his shares, and had his money at his banker's ( the wisest wish he ever wished in his life). He invariably supports preposterous motions, and, like many other old ladies, does a great deal in the first and sending depart- ment. He lakes a dislike to the station- master, bo nuse he does not make a very low bow and lift his blocking- machine to him when he is pottering about the platform previous to the starting of the train, which does not grieve the station- master, for he says he prefers such a man as the Model Shareholder keeping I. s distance, as he should be ashamed to be seen acknowledging one who is so deficient of his full change as to have a large number of shares in such a never- paying, ill- conducted line, and especially when it is so well known that the principal officers swamp the receipts by walking off with enormous salaries. He writes se- veral letters to the general manager about his parcel being over- charged sixpence, and expends twice that amount in stationery and postage stamps ( what a bright article); but, as usual, it is the old song; he does it on public grounds, and not for the value of the money. The height of his ambition is, to obtain a seat at the Board of Directors, and, in his opinion, electrify the public with his extraordinary abilities and superior qualifications. But' alas, sucli high- flown sentiments are destined to be nipped in the bud, for during this time, his liabilities have been increasing, but his income has not, and he begins to be most unpleasantly an- noyed by divers Israelitish- looking customers hovering about his premises, in the form of sheriff's officers, and it subsequently transpires that he is on the verge of bankruptcy; but he still struggles on to save his children from beggary, but struggles in vain; the die is castl he sold out at the wrong time, at a frightful sacrifice; loss succeeded loss, ill luck upon ill luck followed, and now reduces him to such absolute necessity, that he is obliged to join and take a principal part in the Direct East- End and Insol- vent Debtor's Railway, with a branch to Hanwell, at which branch the Model Shareholder is insane enough to end his days. PIOKLES- MIXED. THE FOURTEEN STARS, BRISTOL.— There was a stunning muster here on the 81st ult., of the swells connected with the Garrick Society, who did the eat- and- swill caper to an im- mense extent. The gallant minded Evans loomed largely as the chairman, and proved himself to be what we have ever taken him for, a " genuine brick." The TOWN was very much gratified with observing the presentation of a massive silver Snuff- box to Mr. Carter, the deservedly respected manager, a tribute creditable alike to the donor and the recipient. There was some spiflicating singing done, and the sooiety's musicians came out first- rate. In short, we may say of the Garrick Society, generally, that a merrier set of devils, within the limits of becoming mirth, " we never spent an hour's talk withal." DESIGN OF A KISS. All, cans't thou, cruel nymph, suppose, One kiss rewards thy am'rous youth— Enough rewards his tender woes— His long, long constancy and truth. Think not thy promis'd kindness paid— By simple kissing for the kiss, Is but an earnest, beauteous maid, Of more substantial future bliss. Sweet kisses only were designed Our warmer raptures to improve; Kisses were meant soft vows to bind— The honied seals of mutual love. A provincial postmaster writes thus, to E. Mercury ( Phila- delphia,) :—" Sir, your papers directed to Mr. Augustus Clare are not taken from this office. Mr. Clare died three years and a half ago, and has not since called for them." BEAT THIS.—" When does a ship get out of harbour, and into conversation ?"—" When it get's out of Portsmouth and into Chat'em." GOSSIPING.— There is nothing so truly indicative of a low and vulgar mind as gossiping, especially when indulged in at street- doors, or out of windows. Women addicted to gossiping are ge- nerally given to gin. DRUNK AND SOBER.— We saw a hog lying iu the gutter the other day ; and in the opposite one was a well- dressed man. The first had a ring in his nose— the latter a ring on his finger. The man was drunk— the hog was sober. " A hog is known by the company he keeps," thought we— and so is a man— and so off we went. THE fifteenth regiment of Hussars were originally all tailor*, and were led by a Col. Elliot, at Ermsdarff, Germany; they met the French, and, although considerably out numbered, completely routed them. > 4 i in ii r o w ISI. as- W © TIC ® ] to THE TKAIM3. The Trade are informed that tliey may have Handbills and Posters for themselves, or Neighbours who deal in Tobacco, or any other commodity for wrapping up which these Bills may be useful, on application; and that No. 1 will be sold to the Trade at half tho 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 tho 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. The 2nd Quarterly Part will be issued at the Publication of No. 26. Parti, now ready; each part to contain 13 Nos. in a Wrapper, for is.; per post, Is. 6d. Holier to ffiottespontonfa. All communications for the " TOWN" to be directed in future to Mr. H. G. BROOKS, care of Mr. W. WINN. The tale " Why don't you get Married V will be completed in our next. ESTKELL LA GITANA.— We are duly sensible of your kindness in sending us the translation, and thank you for the trouble you have taken ; we regret, however, that it is too broad for our columns. It is beautifully written, and nicely translated. You must send us something else not quite so cerulean. " A DOWNEY COVE PROM GLASGOW."— We are much obliged to you for your letter; let us know more about the lads at Forsyth's, the French Horn— give our respects to old Ivinloch, who is a trump— ax him if he's going to take tin for the " l'at ' un," whose gone over to Dublin. SPINKS ( Lambeth).— All right, old fellow ; you see your wish is complied with; every tale will be finished in due course. A. K. ( Manchester).— Iu the words of the good book, we say, " Go thou, my child, and do likewise." THE REAL KOM CODGER ( Glasgow).— Where have you been ? What's been the matter with you ? we'really/ unMabout you, imagining you had got the cholera; your request shall be at- tended to. WIDO ( Oxford).— You have been having a lark with us, we think, or else there are two of the same name. DALTA.— We shall be glad to hear from you again. See our Town Trifles. POOR PILLGARLICK ( Chester).— The best thing for the Cholera is weak cold brandy and water; particularly avoid warm liquids, such as tea or broth, & c.; they have tho effect in the earlier stages of bringing on the purging. Eaters of oysters, salmon, or unripe fruit, deserve to catch it. til. ii. H. ( Waterloo- road).— Go it, my pippin, all night, next week. We know your'eon the right scent. Get the name of the old poat who wears the spectacles, and that Mother Isaac's three girls, washed in the water- butt last Tuesday night. MATHEWS ( Tunbridge Wells).— Serve you right— go to arespect- able medical man. We knew a man once who was told to drink Epsom salts, and rub himself with a hearth- stone and hot water before going to bed. Iledid so— and we suppose you would have done the same. A DOWNEY CO^ E."— Send your address. MEMOIR OF A FRENCH LADY OF FASHION- ( Continued from our last.) " With the Count du G , I think." Thus our rapture had changed nothing in Marguerite's habits. " Well, I am very glad to find Marguerite is not inconsolable for me," I said with a forced laugh. • " And she is undoubtedly right," said Prudenee. " You have done what you ought to do; you have been more reasonable than her, for this girl loved you, she did nothing but talk of you; and she would have been capable of committing some folly." " Why did she not reply, since she loves me?" " Because she saw that she did wrong to love you. Besides, wo- men sometimes allow their love to be deceived, but never their pride to be wounded; and the self- love of a woman is always hurt, when, two days after yielding all, they are abandoned. I know Marguerite, she would die rather than reply to you." " What must I, do then?"—" Nothing, she will forget you, and you will forget her, and you will have nothing to reproach each other with." " But if I write to demand ber pardon ?"—" Beware of it; she will pardon you." I was ready to fling myself on Prudence's neck. A quarter of an hour afterwards I had returned home and written to Marguerite; " some one who repents of a letter he wrote you yesterday and who will depart to- morrow if you do not pardon him, wishes to know at what hour he may lay his repentance at your feet. When shall you be alone ? for confessions, you know, must be made without witnesses." I folded this species of madrigal in prose, and sent it by Joseph, who delivered it to Marguerite herself, who re- plied she would send an answer presently. I went out for a mo- ment to dine. At eleven o'clock at night I had not yet received a reply. I then resolved to suffer no longer and to depart the next day, and convinced that I could not sleep if I went to bed, I com- menced packing. THE COVE THAT LIVED IN A CAB. MANY of our readers have, no doubt, read of ccrtaiu individuals loeated in the wilds of America and other places, who prefer the shelter of a tree to that of a house, and would rather stretch their limbs for the night on the damp grass of a forest, than be tucked cosily up between the upper and under luxuriances of the most aristocratic bedding. We once heard of an eccentric author, whose favorite place of writing was in one of the Kensington g rave- pits, where, with a shilling in his pocket, given to him every morning by his publishers, he sat working his brains until his stomach gained the mastery over his mind, and he was com- pelled to satisfy the vulgar cravings of the flesh with a shilling dinner at a cook's shop. Accident has put us in possession of some particulars respecting another scribe— a talented, but strange and wayward wight— who is more than strongly suspected of having no lodgings, and being of an extremely restless and wake- ful temperament, never sleeps longer than an hour or two at a time, and then always in a patent cab, because its roominess enables him to stretch his limbs at full length. Now, how does the reader think this strange habit was contracted ? Why, thus ; no lodging- house- keeper would have our eccentric for a tenant more than one week, because he not only could not sleep himself,- but would not sutler anybody else, the peculiarity of his nature prompting him to rise from his bed soon after midnight, not only revived, but actually excited, by his short slumber, that he could sot refrain from singing or whistling, waltzing about the room with a chair, cutting capers, a la Duvernay, or ( being, as is well known, a most unwearied talker) bold an imaginary conversation on any subject which had taken his attention during the day. Report says, that he tried opium, but without effect, and in this distressing emergency, being unable to afford the rent of an entire house to himself, he one night be- came painfully conscious of not having a home, and resolved to wander about all night. But at last he got tired, if not sleepy, and the morning's dawn ( so the story goes) found him seated on some palings in Somors- Town, ruminating as to the best place in which a gentleman in im- poverished circumstances could snatch an hour or two's rest, Perhaps he thought of the arches under Waterloo- bridge— the dry ones, we mean;— or, perhaps he tried to recollect some un- finished building— a carcass ( as the builders call it)— big enough to rest his own in; but whatever were his speculations, certain it is that, as he 6at balancing his body on his narrow and uncomfort- able perch, he suddenly espied, in tho open space behind him, among a variety of show- carts and other vagrant property, the body of an old broken- down cab. Towards it be rushed, in he got, and there he lay, a gentleman at his ease, till the opening of the shutters of an adjoining van, and the emptying of a certain utensil on the top of the cab, followed by the dripping of its un- savory contents through several chinks in the roof, compelled him to emerge from his temporary domicile. From that night, it is said that our hero has evinced a most unconquerable penchant for sleeping in cabs; sometimes at night and sometimes in the day- time, giving his orders to cabbey to drive him from one particular part of tho town to another and back again, so as to consume just about as much time as will enable hiin to get rid of his slight drowsiness; which, as we have already said, nover lasts longer than a couple of hours. How ho manages to make his diurnal ablutions we cannot say ; but, as to his linen, it is suspected that he never troubles a washerwoman with it, contenting himself by purchasing second- hand shirts, and wearing them until they are unfit to be worn any longer; such, at least, is the report among the " knights of of the whip," one of whom detected him changing liis shirt in the course of a drive, and afterwards found the re- mains of an old one tuckcd under one of the cushions. We have also heard that he was once seen walking down the Strand, with the ragged foot of a remarkable dirty stocking, hanging out of his coat pocket. Now, although we cannot exactly say that we should like to meet with similar adventures, we cannot help enjoying our hero's peculiar power of thriving on very little sleep. If he conquer his noisy vivacity, subdue his talkativeness, and also cool the burning fever in his brains and nose, we think he may turn his days and nights to very profitable and honourable advantage. Speaking arithmetically, he is now virtually living nearly two days to other people's one, so that we have a right to expect bo will do something to immortalize his memory; and, doubtless, ho intends it. CHAP. XV. For the last hour Joseph and myself had been engaged in pre- paring for my departure when some one rang violently at my door. " Must I open?" inquired Joseph. " Open,'' I replied, not daring to think it was Marguerite, as a secret presentiment told me— " Sir," said Joseph returning, " there are two ladies, they are waiting in the saloon." " ' Tis us, Armand," cried a voice which I recognizcd for that of Prudence. I passed into the room. Prudence was looking at the few curiosities of my saloon Marguerite, seated on the sofa, was re- flecting. When I entered, I approached her, knelt to her, took her two hands, and with some emotion I said to her; " Pardon." She kissed me on the forehead and said—" This is now the third time I have pardoned yon."—" I should have departed to- morrow, I resumed.''—" In what way can my visit change your resolution?" inquired Marguerite. " I do not come to prevent your quitting Paris. I come because I have not had time to reply to you in the day and I would not have you think I was angry with you. Pru- dence was against my coming; she said I would disturb you, per- haps." " Disturb me! you, Marguerite! and how ?'' " Faith, you might have had some woman with you," replied Prudence, and it would not have been very amusing for her to see a second arrive." During this observation of Prudence, Marguerite regarded me attentively. " My dear Prudence," I replied, " you know not what you say." " Ah! your apartment is very genteel," she said; " may I see your bed- room 1" Prudence passed into my chamber less for the purpose of view- ing it than to repair the folly she had uttered, and leave Marguerite aud me alone, said. " Because she was with me at the theatre, and on leaving here I wished to have somebody to acompany me."—" Am I not here?" " Yes, but besides that I would not disturb you, I was quite sure i that on reaching my door you would ask to go in, and as I could not accord you this, I would not have you depart with the right of being enabled to reproach me with a refusal." " And why cannot you receive me?'' but what they find lucrative. Littleit matters to them if we have a dozen lovers at a time, provided they gain a robe or a bracelet, and now and then get a ride in our carriage, and visit the theatre in our box. They get our bouquets, and oorrow our shawls. The/ never render us a service, however slight, without paying them selves double what it is worth. You saw it yourself when Prudence brought me the 6,000 francs from the duke, she borrowed 500, which she will never repay, unless in bonnets that will nover leave their pasteboard boxes. " Suffering as I do, I could only have the happiness of finding a man superior enough not to demand from me an account of my actions. This man I had found in the duke, but the duke is old, and old age neither protects nor consoles. I believe I could accept the life he made me, but I shonld die of ennui; and if one is to be burnt, one may as well throw oneself into the fire, as be suffocated with charcoal! I then encountered you, young, ardent, happy, and I tried to make of you the man I had dreamt of. What I loved in you was not the present man, but the man that was to be. You do not accept this part, you reject it as unworthy of you ; you are a vulgar lover ; do as the others ; pay me, and let us say no more about it." Marguerite, whom this long oonfession had fatigued, threw herself back on the sofa. " Pardon, pardon," I murmured ; " I had comprehended all this, but I wished to hear you speak it, my dearest Marguorite. Let us forget all that except that we are young and love eaoh other, Marguerite," I continued, taking my beautiful mistress in my arms; " do with me as you like, I am your slave, your spaniel! but, in Heaven's name, tear up the letter I wrote you, and do not allow me to depart to- morrow; it would bo my death.'* Marguerite drew my letter from her bosom, and handing it to me, said, with a smile of ineffable sweetness—" I return it you.'' I tore up the letter and kissed ber bauds. At this moment Pru- dence appeared. " Well, Prudence, can you imagine what he asks of me ?" said Marguerite. " He solicits your pardon."—" Precisely."—" And you pardon V I must, but he wishes something else."—" What, then 1"—" To return aud sup with us." " And you consent to it ?"•—" What do you think of it ? " I think you are two children, who have neither of you any sense; but I also think that I am very hungry, and that the sooner you consent, the sooner we shall sup." " Well," said Marguerite, " my carriage will hold three. Stay," she continued," Nanine will be in bed; you shall open the door; take my key, and endeavour not to lose it again.'' I embraced Marguerite enough to stifle her. Upon this; Joseph entered. " Monsieur," he said to me, in the tone of a man en- chanted with himself, " the trunks are packed." " Completely ?"—" Yes, sir."—" Well, unpack them, I am not going." CHAP. XVI. It was on the day succeeding this night that I sent her the vo- lume of Lesoant, which you purchased. From this moment, as I could not change the life of my mistress, I ohanged my own. Nothing is more expressive than the thousand caprices of flowers, of theatres, of suppers, of pic- nics, which we can never refuse a mistress; her love, therefore, is somewhat prodigal. [ To bo continued.] LEGENDS OF SCOTTISH SUPERSTITION— Being a Complete His- 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- ticated recitals of this work. THE SONGS OF 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 OF EMIGRATION 1 or, the „,,..• | , . T, J T Miseries, Privations, and Dangers Endured in a Strange Country ; Murders Why did you bring Prudence ? ' 1 and Robberies by the Natives! Fearful Shipwrecks from Rotten Ships, icc., & c. 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, Sec., 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— •" Because I am closely being a review of the leading points of his truly valuable and highly ia- watched, and that the least suspicion might do me the greatest '"^ S^.^ L^ If^ J''' Church " nd Slale-" injury."—" And is this the only reason?" " If there was another I would name it you ; we have no secrets from each other." " Well, Marguerite, I will not use twenty words to arrive at THE LADIES' BEST FRIEND,— Containing Secrets sf Importance to Females of every rank and station, and in all situations of life. Those who study real eco- nomy may save a large sum of money, and also add con- siderably to the comforts of home. Numerous useful aud approved Re- ceipts of tho utmost consequence to females, whether Maids, Wives, or „„., , * wm '""" J ™ I1";""" Widows, and the practice of which will quickly prove the folly of emigrating what I would say. I< rankly, do you love mo at all?"—" Much." when you can save gold at home, One Penny. " Then why did you deceive mo?" AN ABSTRACT of llie PAWNBROKERS' ACT, with an Interest Table, " My friend, if I were Madame the Duchess so and so, if I had f » » lng the amount payable upon pledges for One Shilling and upwards, - ... ' from one to twelve months, One Penny. THE PENNY DOMESTIC 20,000 francs a year, were I your mistress and had another lover COOKERY BOOK, besides yourself, you would have the right to ask me why I de- ceive you; but I am Mademoiselle Marguerite Gatuier. I owo 40,000 francs, I have have not a sou by way of fortune, and I spend 100,000 francs a- year. Your question, therefore, is an idle one, and any reply useless." " You are right,'' I said, " but lam madly in love with you." " Well, my friend, you must love me a little less, or understand me a little better. Your letter has given me great pain. Had I been free, I should not have received the Count the day before yesterday, or having received him, I should have come to de- mand that pardon you have just sued for, and for tho future I should have had no other lover but you. I thought for a moment I might indulge myself with this happiness for six months ; you would hot have it; you insisted on knowing the means; eh! my God, tho means were very easily to be guessed ; I made a groater sacrifice in employing them than you suppose. I might have said to you, ' I want 20,000 francs,' you would have found them, at the risk of reproaching me with it afterwards; I preferred owing you nothing. You did not comprehend this deli- cacy, for it is one, we courtesans, when we have still a little heart left, give to words and things a latitude unknown to other women. I therefore repeat that the means Marguerite Gautier found to pay her debts, without asking you for the money, was a delicacy of which you ought to have profited without saying a word." I listened to and regarded Marguerite with admiration. " Listen, my dear Armand," continued Marguerite, " we poor creatures of chance have capricious desires, and unconceivable amours. At one moment we give ourselves for one thing, at the next for another. Thero are men who wonld ruin themselves without obtaining anything from us ; there are others who possess for a bouquet. I gave myself to you sooner than to any man, because you wept over me and pitied me. I had once a little dog who looked at me with a rueful countenance when I coughed ; he was the only creature I ever loved. When he died I wept more than at the death of my mother. ' Tis true she beat me for ten years of my life! I loved you at once as much as I loved my dog. If men knew what they could obtain by a tear, they would love more, and we should be less prodigal. Your letter did you more harm than it did me; it was jealousy, I know; but an im- pertinent and ironical jealousy. I was already out of spirits when I received it; I expected you at mid- day to breakfast with me, and chase away some intruding thoughts. Ours are something selfish lovers who dissipate their fortune, not for us, as they say, but for their own vanity. For Ihese men, we must be gay when they are gay, and well in health when they wish to sup, sceptical as they are. It is forbidden us to have a heart under the penalty of being pointed at, and ruining our credit. " We do not belong to ourselves. We are no longer beings but things. We are the first in their vanity, the last in their esteem. We have friends, but they are friends like Prudence; women once ir. keeping, who still have a taste for expence which their beauty no longer permits them. They then become our friends, or rather our companions. Their friendship descends even to servi- tude, ncrer rises to disinterestedness. TUey give us no advice THE BALL- ROOM MANUAL; being a complete Multuin in l'arvo Compendium of the Art of Dancing. Twopence. Rafflo papers one penny each. This is a most useful invention, for one penny, every thing complete; a saving of Two Hours' Work. SECRETS OF FREEMASONRY; a Manual of the Three Degrees, with an introductory Key- stone to the Royal Arch. Cloth gilt, price Os., post free. The whole of the above works to be had of W, WINN, Holywell- street, Strand, Loudon, and of all Booksellers. The " Times" sent, per post, on the day of publication, for £ 1 2s. Od. per quarter. All other London papers at the lowest possible prices. SECRETS FOR YOUNG MEN, OLD MEN, SINGLE MEN, MARRIED MEN. 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