" Nri 1 A ) ( The Second auarterly Part will be issued at the publication of No. 26. Part I. now) niTTlT T C U u T\ lit r, 17 T/ T - IT RL-> T> HO. lU. j [ lesdy. Each Part to contain 13 Nos. in a Wrapper, for Is. Post free, Is. 6d. j f U ULi O H li 1) W iiliKLY. [ iRICE ONE rENNY GOING IN A VAN TO THE DERBY EFFECT OF TAKING BABBIES. A DAY'S SPREE AT EPSOM RACES- Mr. Timothy Splodgers was a remarkably tall young man, and resided with his mother in a second floor front room, in that place of questionable fashionable notoriety., B irtholomew- close. Mr. Splodgers was approximating twenty, and wore a very seedy black coat, a sort of a chrysalis of a garment, that, gave promise one day of bursting forth into a great coat. The lappels of this interesting garment came down to Mr. Splodgers' knees, and its tails, when Mr. Splodgers was locomotive, were scarcely two inches from the ground; in addition to all this, the skirts were vory wide, keeping S.' s thighs particularly warm in the winter time. The style of hat patronised by Mr. Splodgers, was one very lofty in the crown, with a very narrow brim ; it was not a gos- samer, but had beon what is termed a good, serviceable beaver hat; indeed, Mr. S. had worn it, in nearly all weathers, for four years ; its colour was rather foxy, and in the esteem of the mil- lion, might be deemed somewhat greasy. To add to the interest of Mr. Splodgers' appearance, his legs were parenthetical, and he delighted in encasing them in a compilation of loomy fabrica- tion, called duck, which gave to his lower exterior a remarkably clean appearance. Thus much, by way of description. Now, it so happened that Timothy, who was apprenticed to a carver and gilder in Goswell- street, and considered a very good hand, had specu- lated sundry half- crown's, his over- time, at the Itac- ing- office, No., 301 Strand, and never having been to Epsom, he thought he should very much like to see if the Dutchman or Nnnnykirk would come in first; and accordingly, in conse- quence of certain information that had been convoyed to him, which we will also put the reader in possession of in a few minutes Mr. Splodgers was to be seen on the morning of Mon- day the twenty- first of May, steering down St. John- street, and, syddenly, to halt in front of a boiled beef, sausage, and faggot establishment, nearly at the end of that Smithfieldian locality. Now, at this emporium for buttock and flank, lived a friend of Mr. Splodgers', a Mr. Zechariah Googles, a somewhat green young man, from Bristol, who served out the boiled on week days, and the girls at Cremorne on Sundays. Mr. Splodgers entered the shop a few minutes after twelve, just as a fat woman was intimating to Mr. S.' s friend, " That she'd have six ounces of that ere beef in the window, and a pen'orth of peas- pudding." " Can I speak a word to you for a moment?" said'Splodgers. ' I'll come out in a second," was the response. Mr. Googles made his appearance in the street, and then Splodgers said— " Googles, can you get out the day after to- morrow ( Wednesday), and go with us to Epsom? There's a whole dose of us going in a wan to the Derby." " Well, I thinks 1 can," was the reply; " I leaves hero to- night, and don't go to my new crib in Drury- lane till Monday. IIow many's a going?" " Only twenty- four, at two bob a- head," was the answer of the communicative Splodgers. " Will there be any girls?" inquired the gallant Googles. " Mobs, m » bs," said Splodgers. " I'll go, like a shot," replied Googles. " And we'll have what they says on the TOWN perambulating carts," continued the first speaker. " What's that?" said Googles. " A stunning lark! ' replied Splodgers, who at the same mo- ment was warned off the door- step by a gruff voice, subdued by passing through the steaming beef, with— " Now, then, hook it there; don't interrupt my people in their business." This was, of coilrse, Mr. Googles, and Mr. Splodgers, con- sequently, was compelled to leave. At length Wednesday morning arrived, and with it all its pleasurable troubles. If ever youth looked a swell, we may in honesty say, that one was Splodgers. He had cat the black coat, and now came out in a pepper- and- salt tweed wrapper, built for him at the temple of elegance ( Moses in minorii), a spanking eight- and- a- tanner spring French hat, red- figured waistcoat, and new lily- white leg- casers; and everybody at the coal- shop where the van started from, looked twice before they could believe it was the cove from the carver and gilder's. Twenty- eight " hindividuals," as Splodgers expressed it, in- cluding the driver and three children at the breast, took their seats in the van. The provisions for the day consisted of two hampers of sandwiches, half a cheese, sundry quartern loaves, and a keg of porter. Splodger and Googles sat together, and and facing of Splodgers was a lady with a vermilion- tinted face, a fierce fiery nose, and an infant at the breast. The van started, and the red- nosed woman's child began to cry, and Timothy Splodgers began t « wish the woman and the child anywhere but next to him in the van. At length the fiery nosed woman said to Timothy Splodgers, " Young man, I wish you'd be so good as to hold this here dear babby, while I gets a napkin out of my reticule." Now, Tim mortally hated babbies, but iu this instance his politeness overcame his prejudice, and Timothy Splodgers carefully took the lump of innocence across his arms. Whenever gentlemen undertake the responsible and dangerous duties of nursing, they should prepare themselves with a pair of yellow ochre coloured trousers. Had Timothy Splod^ ers adopted this very necessary precaution, he would not have felt the inconvenience of the unpleasant accident which befell him whilst holding the red- nosed womau's child. Our intuitive modesty will not permit us to detail the occur- rence ; suffice it to say, that the gentlemen laughed and the girls tittered, and a very dull man in drab gaiters, facetiously observed, that Splodger's trowstrs were nicely embroidered with gold. The fiory nosed woman apologized, and Timothy ^ lodgers looked 2 THE TOWN. 3 blue, whilst his trowsers looked yellow ; still Timothy Splodgers preserved that equanimity of temper, which had always been his leading characteristic through life. Tom's spirits were, however, damped by one thing, and that was, the accident had prevented him from displaying his most shining qualities; viz., offering his attentions to the ladies. It was a source of great mortification to Timothy Splodgers, to see Zachariah Googles, who had always played second fiddle where he was, bearing the palm, and leading the van in the van ; whilst he, the miserable Tim. eould not offer a single observation, without its being followed by a loud laugh Irom one end of the van to the other. On, however, they travelled, poor Tim's misfortunes being a subject of merriment all the way. When they arrived at the Epsom Downs, the van- man drew up in front of the Lord Chief Baron ( Nicholson's) booth. The people, however still continued to chaff poor Tim, whom they called Mustard- pot, and finally, going out for a strol, Tim, who was ashamed to be seen with ais gutino- stained trojwsers, remained alone in the van to mind the things. Tim had not long remained in the van, when the following sen- tence fell upon his ear:—" Ah! young man, lnve'U never break your heart; you'll marry three wives, and have several children; you have seen a deal of trouble, but a brighter star is shining for you; there is a dark man who has done you a deal of injury, but there is a fair woman who is a well wisher ; there is money waiting for you in fur'rin parts, which you will not obtain till you have crossed the sea, and been in strange countries,— ciossmy hand with a piece of silver, and I will till you your fortune as true us gold." These observations were made by one of the uipsy women, who are always to be found at the races; as Tim looked at her, a strange thought entered his head to be even with Zechariah and the man in the gaiters, and he accordingly, after pointing out the two to the gipsy, offered her eighteenpence if she would tell Goodies he was born to be hung, and that a dreadful accident would happen to him and a near relation before the day was out. The woman declared she could'nt tell all that under two shillings and having received it, and obtained tlie initials of Googles'name, proceeded to make Zechariah unhappj. Googles told Timothy the declarations made by the gipsy, and Splodgeis observed, " I should'nt wonder if it an'tyour mother, especially as she guessed your name;" which observation put Zechaiiah Googles into an awful funk. At length a little bell was rung, and " Here they some— there they go," said about half- a- million of voice* at onca; then there was a great deal of halloing, und then the first heat was over. Timothy Splodgers almost immediately afterwards skulked out of the van, and was watched by Zechariah and the rest to go with the gipsy woman over the Downs, and behind a hedge, to have as it was supposed hi? fortune told. Poor Zechariah appeared terribly wretched now, and requested the man in the gaiters to accompany him for a walk, which he having complied with, they proceeded as far as a little lane, where they saw a small group of persons round a country looking man, who kept continually moving three common thimbles upon a small three legged stool, all the while exclaiming in a rapid tone of voice, " Now, my merry gentlemen, here's the true sporting game the lively little pea; one, two, three and the little pea, and if you can tell me under which thimble the pea be, you'll win all my money of me— remember, one can play as well as twenty, and twenty can play as well as one. If you don't bet you citn't win, I lostfive hundred suvrins yesterday, and have got five thousand to " Zeehariah, Zechariah," shrieked the wretched Timothy Splodgers; " good luck to you, don't go to leave us behind; I gave my trousers to that d— d gipsy women just to take the stain out on'em, and she has bolted with'em I ' spose, for I've been sitting in that ditch this last four hours, and she's never shown a head." After a great deal of tittering from the women, and heaps of chaff from the passers- by, Timothy's loins were girded up, and the lower portion of his humanity covered, after tho scriptural fashion, in Bome sack- cloth, which the driver had brought with him to cover the horse, and so with his legs and thighs packed up in a sack, like a couple of york hams, he was stowed away at the back of the van, afraid to move, and eat up with vexation at the ridiculous loss he had sustained, and the chaff he had received, and should continue to receive, from his shop- mates. Zechariah was not a whit better; he dreaded going home lest his mother had met with an accident, and fearing what she would say when she learned of his loss. Things, however, turned out, we are happy to record, better than either party anticipated ; but they have both made up their minds to confine their sporting ramblings to the donkey- races on Hauipstead- heath, and never again to mix, under any inducement, with the sharps and gipsies of Epsom race- course. A CHAPTER ON WOMEN. We of the TOWN have had some experience in women, and we have ever found that to become the darling of a woman's heart, it is requisite not only to possess the necessary qualifications, but at the same time to be endowed with courage competent to undertake; sagacity to manage, and discretion to keep secret the important mysteries of love. Some excel in the one, some in the other ; but he, and he alone, can lay claim to superior merit, who combines in his own proper person the sum or aggregate of all the three. We had the honour of knowing a lady of high rank, who, meeting with a favourite opportunity of gratifying her desires with her cher ami, put the question to him in very direct terms ; but upon his hesitating to comply, under the pretext of the danger that might accrue from the nearness of her husband, she was so offended with his want of courage to undertake the enterprize, that she never could be prevailed upon to receive him into her good graces after; though her said Gicisbeo was avowedly a man of great parts and promise. Another lady, to whom we had likewise the honour of being known, walking with her Cavalier by moonlight in Kensington Gardens, came to a very opaque and retired situation, which, from the appearance of things, one would have imagined had been pur- posely constructed for the act of consummation. Here the Cavalier stopping short, with great gravity observed, " What a charming place, my lady, if I were in company with any of your sex besides yourself." " True," replied the lady, " itwould be very dangerous, indeed, were I in company with any one besides yourself," and so say- ing, she abruptly took her leave, and left the squire to his own meditation. It does not, however, always follow, that abstinence is to be re- ! garded as a proof of imbecility; witness the lady of liis Grace the j Duke of * * *, who, it is notorious, gave the meeting to her lover, j on condition that he should pass the whole night with her, naked and in bed, without proceeding to any liberties whatever. Hard as ltTse^ to'da'j'— jwas t'le task. ber squire had, however, sufficient fortitude and re- THE TOW POST- BAG. " No. III. From Charles Jesson, Crown and Sceptre, Britanriia- street, to T. Watson, Plumber- street, City- road. DEAR TO. M— I hopes you are not offended at my giving my painting to the cove what has just set up next door, as I did it with the best, motives, for I intended to have made my house a- house- of- call for rilers, and had rit up, specimens to be sean out- side, but liavin heard it hinted the riting is damned queer, I must give that idea up. So with that, and his having made liver and Bacon of my verry dear Jim Fagan's marble ceiling, I lose deal thro not giving yon the job ; but it serves me right, for not sticking to my old friends, But I shall do my best, in future, to regain them, and you, my old particular, shall hear from me in a few days. Your's in friendship still, C. JESSON. N. B — My old woman begs to bp remembered to you, and I am so wild, I should like to currycomb the cove for spoiling the work. From Lysander Thompson, Esq., Britannia Saloon, to W. Davidson, Esq., late lessee of the Olympic Theatre. MY VERY DEAR SIR— I have no doubt, you have seen by the letters in that d— d infernal paper, the TOWN, that. Hoxton is getting too hot for me now the summer is approaching; I must, therefore, remove to a cooler quarter. My purpose in writing to you is, to request you would be kind enough to give me a letter, promising an engagement when the Olympic is re- opened. You probably, are not aware of the great service your agreement ( or rather the piece of paper I said was it) was to" me last winter. I showed it at Howard's, in Bow- street, mid one or two public- houses in that neighbourhood, and those flat- headed victuallers, believing I was engaged by you for a second season, were very kind to me. Talking of the air of Hoxton not agreeing with me, what do you think of the Bower, at. Westminster? It's a nice, quiet, out of- the- way place, and I think Biddies would give me ajob ; how- ever, try and manage it for me. With respect to the agreement, it can't affect you, anil will be highly serviceable to me in the country, for if I don't leave London soon, I shall get about as bright a name as the late George Wynne, or Lushy Doctor Brookes. Yours, & c., LYSANDER THOMPSON. P. S.— Do you know where I can get a small bill done ? it! s at a short date, and there are three good names on the back of it, Brading. of the Albert, Charley Dillon, and an amateur gentle- man of the name of Stiggins. I'm told Holmes, of the York Circuit, has been seen in town lately. If you should meet him, don't mention this matter to him. watel, the pea as I move the thimbles, and make your bets s if my j . sol, ltlon , to accomplish > t, and actually lay with her all night as hands are quicker than vour eyes, ov course I deceives you." ' innocently as lie would have done with his own grandmother. Zechariah stared with astonishment; the tiling was new to him, Wlth th, s rroof of hls discretion, and command over his passions, and a young gentleman with a white machitosn and a black eye, j hls mistress was so well pleased, that she could take care to he politelv moved from the front of the table to allow him a full view wlth hlm niKht *? am ve7 shortly aft^ ? he abov. e .^ venture, of the game; at the same time he whispered to a short elderly without subjecting him to the same mortifying restrictions But gentleman with an Israelitish face, ithen her cher aml was universally allowed to be one of the best " Here's a bug ( flat), by G— d; stay ( look at) his mug." The elderly gentleman, who wore an immensity of jewellery, and took snuff out of a large German silver box, answered, " Yes, he seems a boner ( good) sort; do you think his pal's square ( right)?" And then turning quickly to the man in the gaiters, he observed, " A strange game this, sir; I've just won five pounds at It, sir; mean to bet again, sir, as soon as I see an opportunity, sir." The elderly gentleman did bet again, and won two pounds, and then asked Zechariah if he'd go him halves in the next, but ere Googles could give an answer, he received a frightful pinch from the gaiters cove. The gentleman in the white macintosh observed this, and then called out to a fat man with a smock- frock and half a nose, " Jemmy nark, the bloke tumbles to my nibs,'' ( the man knows what we're about), and then they bustled, bustled, and shoved the gaiter- man about until they had fairly, or more properly anfairly, succeeded in sep (. rating him from Zechariah. The result is now soon told, Zechariah, fancying one of the thimbles, suddenly declared he was willing to bet. " How much will you lay, sir?" said the gentleman with the thimbles. " All I has," was the answer, " two pounds seven and a penny "— " Don't touch the thimble," thouted the man with the moiety of & nose. " Yes, let the young gentleman have fair play," cried another. Down went Googles money, and up went the thimble, but the jia was not there; Zeehariah was stunned, he gazed wildly upon the table and then at the man, then h.) felt in his pockets for more money, but he was cleaned out. The elderly gentleman with the Israelitish mug, coutinued to play and won all before him, at last be kindly asked Zechariah, who continued looking on in stupid amazement, if he'd go him halves in a five pound bet. " I've no more money," said Zechariah. " I dare say the table- man would take your word, sir." " I'll take the gentleman's watch, if he likes to stake it," was the answer. The pea- man was as good as his word; he did take it, some one from b. hind giving Zechariah, in exchange, a roofer, of such violence, that it sent his hat over his eyes, nose, and mouth, and when he could pull it from under his chin and look round, the table and thimble people had vanished. The gaiter- man had reached the van first and spread wide the foolish way in which Zechariah had acted, so that when he had arrived with his hat broken, and told how he had been served, he was shockingly chaffed. Zeehariah began to think of the words of the gipsy woman," a dreadful accident would happen to him before the day was out;" be had met it, for what could be worse than the loss of his money and watch, where, however, was his friend Splodgers? The races were now over, and as the party were preparing to return to London, he, of course, began to be alarmed as to what had become of him. " He was Ia- t seen with the gipsy woman," all exclaimed, " and perhaps," added the man in the gaiters, " they've murdered him; I've read of such things. " There's always been some one murdered at Epsom races, by the gipsies, for this last forty years," said an elderly female primly. The van proceeded slowly down the narrow lane leading into the Epsom town, when the prim female shrieked " My God, I declare there's a man half naked making his way from that ditch by the side of the hedge and calling after us." At this moment a voice was heard calling out, " Zechariah, Zechariah Googles, stop, stop." It was the hapless and ill- fated Timothy Splodgers, who, divested of his lily whites, in a very short shirt, which the wind most in- delicately contrived to agitate, was rushing towards them, " I'm blowed," ejaculated the man in the gaiters, " its your pal Zechariah, the carver and gilder's boy, that's calling, he's got no breeches on, we musn't leave him behind." " No man shall sit in my company without his breeches," said the elderly female firmly; " what can he have been doing, the im- perent fellow? drive on, I insist." men in England. These cases, are, however, very rare : the ladies being seldom inclined to pardon sins of omission, though never so excusable ; as appears from the case of a certain naval commander, who having obtained permission to pass the night with his mistress, oil condi- tion of his riding ten posts before day- break, was unfortunately seized with such a violent tremor and ague fit, that he could think of nothing else but the most expeditious means of warming his \ poor limbs, the consequence of which was, that his mistress had hi ® turned out of doors, although the night was very bleak and Unfriendly. A similar story is told of one of the maids of honour to his late Majesty; who having consented to share her bed with her bon ami, on conditions of his doing double duty by way of recompense, was so incensed at his breach of promise, owing to a sudden indisposition [ he had contracted by walking three miles through the rain to meet her, that she kicked him, sans ceremonie, out of bed, and out of doors too ; sarcastically observing, that she did not let out beds to hire, a » at a twopenny lodging- house. Happy would it have been for this unfortunate gentleman if he had possessed the vigour of a late celebrated dealer in foreign es- sences and waters; who, in his youth, was wont to be in high request among the ladies of ton ; many of whom have solemnly protested, that he would ride thirteen posts a night, and in the morning make apology for stopping short, as he termed it; alleg- ing, by way of excuse that he had been under a course of physic the preceding day. Though he received large sums of money for his performances, he was too much under the dominion of that unruly member, which, more or less influences us all, to amass riches ; for which reason he took to distilling of waters in his old age, when his pipe was nearly worn out, and would often observe, with great pleasantness, that if he understood but the art of pre- paring elixirs as well as he did in big youthful days, he should soon acquire a capital fortune. We remember being told a story of a certain gentleman, well- known in this kingdom for his exquisite performances on the violin, who being deeply smitten with the charms of the lady of a certain professional gentleman, whose oratorical powers have raised him to great oelebrity, after many and unwearied importunities, obtained at. last a promise from her, that she would pass the night with him, for which purpose she directed him to repair to her house, as soon as it began to grow dark. Our virtuosi neglected not to obey the welcome summons, and accordingly repaired to the place appointed for their rendezvous. Here he was entertained in the most sump- tuous manner, and after supper, conducted to a room elegantly furnished, where he was ordered to repose till such time as the lady should have an opportunity of joining him. Our virtuoso, half entranced with the hospitable reception he received, readily complied with the orders of the hostess, and un- dressing himself, leaped into bed in an ecstacy of delight, not doubting but he should very shortly be joined by his mistress, agreeable to promise. It happened, however, that whilst he was counting the lazy minutes which retarded ttie expected interview, he was overpowered by sleep, and accordingly resigned himself to the soft dominion of Somnus. In this situation he had not lain upwards of half- an- hour, when the lady made her appearance in person, and vexed to see the passive inertness of the swain, re- solved to punish him for his neglect in the most exemplary manner. For this purpose, she gently laid herself down alongside of her sleeping inamorato, and continued in this posture till the dawn of day, when Endymion began to discover symptoms of awakening from his golden slumbers. Then accosting him with well- timed raillery—" You have not slept without company," quoth she, " neither have I been unmindful of my promise. But as you know so little how to take advantage of the golden opportunity that has pre- sented itself, I have only to warn you to depart, with this me- mento, that you have lost an opportunity which will never return again." Our poor virtuoso, petrified with consternation and alarm, en- deavoured to apologise for his conduct; but in vain, his mistress turned a deaf ear to his remonstrances, and'nerer could be pre- vailed upon to honour him with a second lete- A- tete> From Harry Fox, comic vocalist, Nicholson's Head, Bow- street, to W Warde, Harmonic Hall, Suffolk- street, Southwark. ( In reply to No. 8.) DEAR BILL— I didn't hear it was a lucifer- girl you was seen witli in the Borough- market, but a very long, tawny female, as his known at the Elephant by the name of Copper- cut Jane.' I havn't got the high- heeled boots you asked for, as, unfortunately, I have lent them to poor old Torn Martin to go home with. lie is, I am sorry to say, crawling about here after twelve o'clock at night, in a dreadful state, fancying he is engaged here. The poor cranky creature is permitted by our governor to go on oc- casionally and sing, so now he wants to come out in character business, and with the boots and some old rags he has faked up somewhere, he purposes coming out in the song of " Billy Barlow;" you know he always siugBnetii things. I can't write any more now, for somebody has prigged my waggoner's frock. Your's, H. Fox. From James Connell, T. R. Italian Opera, to Mr. Bailey, Truss maker, Oxford- street. DEAR SIR— Will you oblige me with a call in the course of to- morrow; I have been recommended to you by Mr. La Mert, 37 Bedford- square. He tells me that you have some very large sus- pendary bands. You can bring some of these, and also one of your treble- action spring trusses. Your's, & c., J. CONNELL. From Lewin Chandler ( skittle- stunner), Butcher, Commercial- road, East, to Pratsey Myers, the King of the skittle- sharps, the Bull and Badger, Camden town. SIR— Know doubt you wonders hat my ritin too you, so cele- brated as you his for skittle- ranking, but i has done a littel at the game myself. I have whopped the landlord of the Ship out of £ 3 of stakes, knot has it much matters hit' it had bean more t'other, ' cos i Lives with the Hold man. Howsomedever, hif there's Any bisniss too be done in the way i has deluded too, send too me, and you'll find an helping and in LEWIN CHANDLER. MEDICAL QUACKS. CAUTION TO YOUNG MEN. The system of medical quackery, and with it, perforce, puffing, has been carried out in this country to an extent that has posi- tively. of late years, rendered it a science, and hundreds of young men are annually brought to the. verge of the grave through the impudent pretensions of a class of men, who, not having the slightest claim to a connection with the medical profession, impu- dently pass themselves off by wholesale advertising, as members of that body. It has, however, often astonished us, when we have heard of the immense sums that have been obtained by these persons from weak- minded young men, that they have never taken the precaution, first, to seek out some individual of respect- ability who had really been cured, and also, if they preferred the medical advice and treatment of gentlemen who puff themselves in the newspapers, to inquire of a known member of the profession, the right such persons had to act as professors of medicine, and vend pills, ointments, and other no- trums. These observations will particularly apply to those individuals who make a traffic in a certain disease, incidental to over indulgence of the passions, and who thruBt. their flimsy paper circulars into the hand of passengers, in all our trading thoroughfares; it will be found that this branch of the profession are, many of them, Jews, and their method of drawing attention is, after taking a dashing house, to publish a work upon venereal disorders and spend immense sums upon it, in advertisements ; the contents of the book is summed up in a few words, viz., " Come to me." It is a singular circumstance, but one which will be fouud to be a fact on inquiry, that there is hatdly a person whose prac ice has been confined to the above disease, that has had an establishment in his right name, in proof of which assertion, we give La, Mert, CHrtis, Jourdan, Devonport, & c-; or, Bartholomew, Levi, Crucifix, & c., & c.— As we intend shortly returning to this subject, we will only, in conclusion, observe that it is the custom of some of the advertising gentry to place after their names M. R. C. S., wishing to imply that they are members of the Royal College of Surgeons; an examina- tion, however, of the list at the College, will clear up this point ; there is also another dodge, viz., writing up " from Paris;" the best plan to detect this last particular is, to address the gentlemen in French. Some years s ince, a Jew of the name of Moses, who kept an establishment in Great Russell- street, in the Dentist line.. but passed himself off as a Frenchman, positively had the impudence to tell a lady that he did so much business in English, that he had entirely forgotten the French language. A young woman having a candle in her hand, a gallant would needs be doing with her. But she vowed, if he meddled with her, she would burn him. " Will you," says he, " come, I'll try that;" with that he blew out the candle, and though there was no fire, yet she did burn him. THE TOWN. 3 TALES OE THE TOWN- MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; MARRIHD LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. CHAPTER X. A STRANGE ADVENTURE WITH THE SLASHER IN ST. OILES S. Timt portion of tiie metropolis, known to the Londoners and provincials as St. Giles's, is much, very much altered since the period of which we are writing; and he, who, by accident or business, was induced to pass through that filthy locality only five" years since, would be at a loss to discover in the handsome new street, with its spacious buildings, a remnant of that retreat of the thief, the prostitute, the beggar, and the houseless. There is, however, still one street left, in which there is to be found the same amount of squalid misery, the same wretchedness and filth, for which the place has, for more than the quarter of a century, been celebrated ; it is even now a fearful neighbourhood, the resort of the most abandoned and reckless in society. The street to which we allude runs parallel with new Oxford- street, and the back windows of those splendid houses look upon a region, as dirty in appearance as its inhabitants are depraved and vitiated in cha- racter; the proximity of the police- station has not in any way sup- pressed crime, for it was only about three years since, that, in a room, abutting upon the street to which we have been alluding, was committed one of the most cold- blooded murders of modern times. It was on the night of the day that our tale commences, that a young man was seen to rush rapidly down this street, and eater the doorway of a house situated half- way down ; here he was met by a woman, who WHS in the act of leaving the house in great haste. The two persons struck against each other with such force as to send the woman back into the passage. " Good God!" exclaimed the female, " is it you, Mr. Saunders ? I hope there's nothing up ; where's my old man?" " He's all right," was the answer; " but I saw a cad ( policeman) at the corner of the street, that was the cause of my hurry." The woman to whom these observations were made, was the same female that we introduced to the reader in Chapter 2, as con- versing with Hannah, under the name of Lizzy Baker, and it may not be out of place to explain that she lived with the Liver- pool Cracksman, Ned Baker. The person she was speaking to, wore a great coat, which completely enveloped his person; round his neck was a flashy- looking travelling shawl, and on his head a white hat, with a black crape band; although his face was dirty and grimey, there was a general appearance about him of jaunty impudence, which with the women, however, passed him for a devilish good- looking fellow. This was the man who has more than once been spoken of in the course of this narrative as the Slasher. " It is strange," said the woman, " Ned has not yet come back. Saunders, I hope you are not deceiving me, for I know yon have been having lush." " I tell you," answered the party addressed, " they have gone to Shadrach's. Tom Sims saw Charley in Sidney's- alley an hour ago— so I know they have arrived all right. Where were you going in such a hurry ?" " To your mother's," replied Lizzy, " for I was in a funk." " Nonsense," was the answer of the Slasher, for it was indeed that daring man; " but tell me who is in the back slums— or is there anybody in your room ? for I expect young Simons here in a few minutes with the swag, and the whole of the wedge ( silver) must be potted directly." •' Let us go in, then," said Lizzy, " for the cad will'be by di- rectly; it's all right for potting, but there's some one in my room, it's only Jenny and that acting- fellow that comes to see her some- times." • " What the devil are they doing ?" said the Slasher, fiercely. " I musn't he seen about here— at any Tate not till the wedge is made into soup." " Why didn't you bring the swag with you, then ?" said the woman; " why come empty- handed ?" " It would never do for me to bring it," answered Saunders, " there's a portmanteau full; a nice style it would be for me to be seen in the neighbourhood of the Rookery carrying such a caper as that." As the Slasher uttered these words he gave vent to a low chuckle, and then continued, " D— n it, Lizz, how could you be so foolish as to let that mad cranckey cove in your room; what's he doing there?" Lizzy made no answer, but laughed. The Slasher looked her full in the face for a moment, and then exclaimed, " Oh— ah— yes, I understand; well, everybody to their game, but I think if your old man catches him, he'll stand a good chance of being kicked out here." " How do you mean to manage about the things?" inquired the woman, not heeding the Slasher's last remark, How are they to be brought in ?'' " All right," whispered the Slasher, " here's the kid with them." As he spoke, he retreated into the pnssage, and the next instant, an urchin, apparently about fourteen years of age, entered, bearing on his back a small coal sack. The boy had on neither shoes nor stockings, and a casual observer would have supposed he was carry- ing coals, in place of a portmanteau filled with valuable plate. All three proceeded through a little passage, and Lizzy having unbolted the back door, they entered a small yard, where the Slasher took from the boy the sack, and then saying, " You know where to go, Bill, and be quick," let him out; he then took up a long beam or plank that stood in the yard, which he thrust into a hole in the brick work, and quickly unscrewing a small and pecu- liarly shaped piece of iron, fitted it into the beam, and this completely formed a barrier to the door, that would for some time resist the attacks of even the most powerfully wielded crowbar. All these operations, which were but the work of a moment, were, however, performed in the dark, showing that the Slasher was well acquainted with the place he was in. " Shall I call to Daddy?" said the girl; " he's all right." " No," was the quick answer; " what was that ?" A voice was heard from a back window on the first floor, to give utterance to the following; " Perish the wretch that could behold, Beauties like these with careless eye ; To all love's warmer raptures cold, Unheeded let him live and die." " It's the mad acting cove, with his nonsense," said Lizz;" never mind him." The place in which the two parties were now stand- ing, was, as mentioned above, a back yard, and near to the Slasher was a wooden building, about four- and- twenty feet from the ground, which the darkness of the night, however, barely showed the outline of. " You are positive there is no one with the Gaffer," said Saunders looking up at the wooden building. " Certain," was the answer," except his old dog." The Slasher made no reply, but leaning against the building, which appeared to be the back portion of a wooden tenement, without door or window, those means of light and egress being upon the other side of the yard. As soon, however, as the Slasher had heard the declaration of the woman, that the person he had in- quired for was alone, he passed his hand over a portion of the wood- work, this was followed by the sound of a bell:— the next instant a door opened at the top of the building, and an old bald- headed man appeared with a light. " All right," said the Slasher, " it's me." His voice appeared to be known, for the next instant a flight of steps, which the darkness of the night had concealed, fell gently out from their fastenings to the ground, and a large mastiff that had commenced growling, ran down the ladder, and fawned and crouched round the Slasher. " Tak3 away the candle, Daddy," he exclaimed in a low tone of voice, " I can find my way up— there may be some one at the windows." He accordingly ascended the staircase, but whether it was the darkness, or the awkwardness of the portmanteau, as he reached the summit, his foot slipped, and the trunk Ml with a loud crash into the yard, he nearly following— at the same moment there was a smashing of glass heard from the apartment inhabited by Lizzy. " That d— d fool of an actor will raise the place," said Lizzy, " I must go up and quiet him; let me out, Saunders." The Slasher did as desired, and in a few moments the woman re- turned, he, in the interim having conveyed the portmanteau to the room at the top of the ladder. " Here's a funny go," said the girl, " this mad fool has rushed out into the street after Jenny in his shirt, and there he is lying all along on the pavement, with nothing on but his hat, shirt, and shoes, and Jenny, like a fool, chaffing him." The room was a most extraordinary apartment, being the last re- treat of that once celebrated " family- man" ( thief), old P h. We cannot now., however, stop to describe the place, for the MEMOIR OF A SUCCESSFUL ERENCH LADY OF FASHION. Slasher, throwing down a crucible, which he was about placing in the furnace, exclaimed— " B— t the fellow, he'll alarm the whole neighbourhood, and bring rouhd the peelers to this house." Uttering these words, the Slasher darted down the ladder into the street, and there found the . mad actor so often spoken of, exactly in the position described by Lizzy, whilst, seated upon a post, was the girl, Jenny, with a pewter pot, smoking a cigar and jeering him. " Get up, you d— d fool," said the Slasher, kicking him, " or the police will take you— we've something else to do besides looking after you." " Just so," said a strange voice from behind, " you, at least, should have something else to do." The Slasher turned suddenly round, and to his surprise, beheld, with arms folded, the figure of Yarden! [ To be continued.] WIT AMONGST THE WITLERS. THE BECKFORD ARMS, OLD- STEEET- ROAD, T. LEB, THE IRISH COMEDIAN. Dear Tom, when first thy glorious mug The Old- street bungs did view, They quaked with fear, and showed they were All in a thundering stew. But well thou, here, hast worked the dodge, By keeping at thy post, Nor pains ha6t spared, or scandal feared, To play the part of host. Go on, my trump, thy path is clear, Civil and frank to all, They must support a right good sort, And give Tom Lee a call. THE GRAPES, OLD COMPTON- STREET, JACK RYAN. Here's a glass of right stuff, for Ryan should know How to give to the public good cheer, With a hostess, that long to the town has been famed, As a singer it joys all to hear. There's Bailey, with others, who chaunt a gay stave, In harmony here nightly meet, And the Grapes to the lovers of song now can give " An out- and- out musical treat." ANSWER TO ENIGMA IN NO. 9. A wanton stream expanded lay Without the least reserve, Upon her native bed of clay, Each comers turn to serve. Bright Phoebus view'd, and, hot with love, Exhaled the silver dame, To airv regions far above, And softer beds of fame. But frost the amorous sun beguil'd Whilst absent from his place, Begat on her a snowy child, By cold constrain'd embrace. The flaky babe, of roving mind, Soon left its place of birth; And floats about in hopes to find Its mother seat on earth. Phoebus descried the maiden snow, On her, prolific, smiled ; Then she brought forth her mother too, That was before her child. LOVE AND HYMEN. Love had a fever— ne'er could close His little eyes till day was breaking} And whimsical enough, Heaven knows, The things he rav'd about while waking. To let him pine so were a sin— One to whom all the world's a debtor— So Doctor Hymen was called in, And love, that night, slept rather better. Next day the case gave further hope yet, Though still some ugly fever latent ; " Dose as before,"— a gentle opiate, For which old Hymen has a patent. After a month of daily call, So fast the dose went on restoring, That Love, who first ne'er slept at all, Now took, the rogue, to downright snoring. TOWN OUT OF TOWN- BRISTOL. Mr. EDITOK.— It affords me a source of pleasure to notice in your columns articles calculated to improve the tone of society. Your articles against gay houses are excellent; now I wish you could give Bristol a visit, so that your pen might expose to the world the dens of darkness. Oh, Mr. Editor, the " Sins of the world" are dreadful. Only last week the Bristol magistrates were compelled to send two policemen to a shop in Sims's- alley, to inform the proprietor that he must remove from his window- plates that were dangerous to the morals of young men. The young man that keeps this infamous depot, is a daring opponent of magisterial orders. There was a time when he was to be found in the fold of the church. Could you not administer a wholesome lesson, for his morals, sake? Bristol is, to a great ex- tent, a Christian city, and it is a pity that its pious morality should be intruded upon by young profligate printsellers. hope you will give this case an expose that it merits. We have also many of our streets crowded with houses for pur- poses too bad to mention. Wellington- street is full ; and be it understood, that this street contains more houses of ill- fame than any street in Bristol, and is right under the nose of St. John' Church. Where is the zeal of Mr. Barrane, the minister of this church, not to stop such doings ? We have also a house in Tower- lane, which goes under the name of the " Rig- gate," kept by an old pensioner. This is really a house of horror; it is the resort of thieves, rogues, and those which degrade the streets of Bristol. Hoping you will give this short note a place in your next, I remain, your's obediently, BRISTOLIAN. ( Continued from our last.) I approached the commissaire, " Is the presence of Monsieur still necessary?" I said to him. " No," he replied, " and I even advise you to take him away, for he appears very ill." " Come," I said to Armand, taking him by his arm. " What?" he said, regarding me as though he did not recognize me. ' It is finished," I added," you must go my friend; you are pale, you are cold, you are killing yourself with these emotions." " You are right, let us quit it," he mechanically replied, but with- out moving a step. I then seized him by the arm and led him. He allowed himself to be led like a child, simply murmuring from time to time— " Did you see her eyes?" And he turned away as if the vision still haunted him. His walk, however, became unsteady ; he appeared to advance only by jumps, his teeth chattered, his hands were cold, a violent nervous agitation invaded his whole person. I spoke to him. He did not reply to me. All he could do was to permit himself to be led. At the gate we found our carriage. It was time. Scarcely had he taken his place in the fiacre which had brought us, when the shivering increased, and he suffered a real nervous attack, in the midst of which the fear that this might alarm me urged him to murmur, as he pressed my hand, " Tis nothing, tis nothing. Would that I could weep." And I saw his bosom swell, and the blood mount to his eyes, but tears came not. I made him inspire the salts I had myself used ; and when we arrived at his rooms, the shivering alone still manifested itself. With the assistance of the servant, I put him to bed, I had a large fire lighted in his room, and I hastened to my physician, to whom I recounted what had passed. He returned with me. Armand was purple, he was delirious, and faltered out words without meaning, through which the name of Marguerite could alone be distinctly heard. " Well?" I said to the doctor when he had examined the patient. " Well, he has a brain fever, neither more nor less, and it is very lucky, for I think— God pardon me— that he will become mad. Happily, the physical disease will kill the moral one, and in a month he will be saved from the one and perhaps from the other."' CHAPTER VII. Illnesses like the one with which Armand was attacked, are so far agreeable that they kill at once, or are soon cured A fortnight after the events I have narrated, Armand was quite convalescent, and we were linked by a mutual friendship. I had scarcely quitted his room during the whole time his illness had lasted. The spring brought forth in profusion its flowers, its birds, its songs, and my friend's window opened cheerfully on a garden, from whence the healthy exhalations mounted to his chamber. The physician had permitted him to get up, and we often re- mained talking, seated near the open windows, at the hour when the sunshine is warmest, from twelve till two o'clock. I took care not to speak to him of Marguerite, still fearing that this name might, awaken a sad remembrance, only slumber- ing under the apparent gaiety of the sufferer ; but Armand, on the contrary, seemed to take a pleasure in speaking of her, no longer as formerly, with tears in his eyes, but with a sweet smile, which re- assured me as to the state of his mind. I had remarked, that since his last visit to the cemetery, since the spectacle which had resulted in his violent nervous attack, the cup of moral grief seemed to have been overflowed by illness, and that the death of Marguerite no longer appeared to him under the aspect of the past. A sort of consolation had resulted from the frightful certitude he had required; and to drive away the last image, which still often represented itself to him, he buried himself in the happy remembrances of his liaison with Mar- guerite, and appeared unwilling to accept, anything but these. His body was too much exhausted by the attack, and even by the recovery from the fever, to permit any violent emotion to the mind, and the springtide of universal joy with which Armand was still surrounded, brought back his thoughts tos miling images. He was still obstinately opposed to his family being informed of the danger he ran ; and when he was saved, he did not even write to his father that he had been ill. One day, we had remained at the window later than usual; the weather was magnificent, and the day sank to rest in a brilliant twilight of blue and gold. Although we were in Paris, the verdure that surrounded ug seemed to isolate us from the world, and scarcely did the sound of a carriage, from time to time, disturb our conversation. " It was nearly at this period of the year, and in the evening of a day like this," said Armand, who seemed rather to listen to his own thoughts than what I was saying to him, " that I knew Marguerite." I made no reply, merely supposing it was a reflection he was giving utterance to. He then turned towards me, and said— " I must, however, recount this history to you; you will make a book of it, which will not be believed, but which, perhaps, it will be interesting to write." " You shall relate it to me by- and- bye, my friend," I said to him ; " you are not yet sufficiently recovered." " The evening is warm. I have taken the breast of a chicken," he said to me, smiling; " I have no fever; we have nothing to do, I will narrate the whole to you." " Since you are absolutely determined, I am listening." " It is a very Bimple history," he then added, " and which I shallrecount to you in following the order of events. If you after- wards make anything of it, you are welcome to prune it as you like." The following is the narrative he gave me, and I have changed but a few words of this touching recital:— " Yes," resumed Armand, letting his bead fall over the back of his arm chair, " yes, it was on an evening like the present; I had passed my day in the country with one of my friends. In the evening we returned to Paris, and not knowing what to do, we had entered the Theatre des Varietfis. " Between the acts we went out, and in the corridor we saw pass a grand lady, to whom my friend bowed. " Whom are you bowing to ? I inquired of him. " Marguerite Gautier, he replied. " She appears to me greatly changed, for I did not recognize her, said I, with an emotion which you will presently compre- hend. " She has been ill, said Eugene; ' the poor girl will not last long.' " I remember these words as if they were spoken to me but yesterday. " You must know, my friend, that it was more than two years since, that the sight of this girl, when I met her, caused me a strange impression, without my knowing why. I turned pale, and my heart beat violently. I have a friend who studies the occult sciences, and who would call what I felt the affinity of fluids; for myself, I very simply believe that I was destined to become amorous of Marguerite, and that I foretold that she was one day to play a part in my life as I was to play one in her's. " At any rate, the emotion she caused me was real; many of my friends had witnessed it, and laughed heartily on discovering from whence this emotion came. " The first time I saw her, was at the place of the Bourse ( or Exchange) at the door of Susse. An open caleche had just drawn up, and a woman dressed in white descended from it. A murmur of admiration had acknowledged her entrance rnto the shop. As to myself, I remained glued to my place from the moment she entered until the moment she departed. ( To be continued.) 4 Woticc to CotTC0ponftmt0. —^— ( Provost- street)— Happy to hear from you at any time. " NIGHT- CAP ( Liverpool)— We are ourselves in a fix, it is very ridiculous for people to send the commencement of articles and not the conclusion, or when they do so, make them so gross that they become positively filthy. We are obliged for your attention. . , , , F. A. BEAVAN— Accepted, with thanks; do as you say, make them more spicy. [ A vast mass of correspondents must stand over till our next.] SHEPTON MALLET. THE FARMER'S win. The Muses like to hear a song, When Cupid leads the way; And so it was with Shepton throng; A certain bridal day. The factory now has lost its charms, The looms are set aside; A farmer comes, with open arms, To make dear Miss his bride. In days of yore she thought she loved The silk- man, dear as life; But now, alas! she gives him o'er, To bo a farmer's wife. A brewer, too, with potent charms, Once caught " Fortuna's " eye, And many a loving, longing thought, Had caused her deep to sigh. * Could I," she said, " but gain his heart, That heart to me so dear, I'd give to him all I possess, ' E'en forty pounds a- year.'" The cautious brewer, smart and shrewd, Within himself did ponder— " I've not made up my mind, as yet, ' Wait a little longer.' " " Tho' that's your mind," she said to B., " I'm tired of single life; I'll try again, nor even spurn To be a farmer's wife." The brewer gone, a parson comes, On whom the suit is press'd; " Could I but gain his heart and hand, A fig for all the rest. " The silk- man, and the brewer too, Ne'er mind what does betide, So I can get the parson now, To be liis doting bride." But soon his absence, too, ismourued, And letters are behind. " Alas !" she says, " ' tis yet1 no go,' I'm sure he's changed his mind. " A distant lover he lias foun.'., To steal his heart, I uar. Ah! luckless I! Ah, cruel he! To dupe his Jenny dear. Can parsons, too, who others teach, As false as others be ? Can faith no where be found in man, Nor husband found for me ?'' And now poor miss in sickly plight, A doctor comes to see: " I wish, dear pa, you'd change the man, The other man for me." The man is changed, the doctor comes To cure the aching part; •" Tis not your physic that I want, I only want your heart." The doctor stared; his wond'ring face Looked pity with a smile; Then said, " There's time enough for me I'll wait a little while." " Oh! doctor do not tell me so, I'm tired of single life ; And if you leave me too — I must Become a farmer's wife.'' And so it was— a farmer came ; For none she shed a tear, When once she had the chance to be— To be a farmer's dear. The merry bells soon struck their notes, Eight weeks brought on the day, When Hymen raised his wand, and ofcased All single woes away. " Misses ! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry," Run after none but farmer's sons If yon desire to marry. SOME PASSAGES IN THE HISTORY OF A RAZOR. ILLUSTRATED WITH CUTS, BY STEEL. By ( anything but a) Slow- man. Blood, Butcher Hall Lane; Gore, Liverpool; and Allchin, Glasgow. I was manufactured into existence by Mr. Sharp, of Sheflield) and apprenticed or set by Mr. Scragell, of Barbers' Hall, London. My family is ancient; my grandfather was a roundhead; I am of the principles denominated whig, which is the heir at law of a Beard, to whom I was turned over when very young. I regret that any of my ancestors were anti- monarchical; one of them named Axe, was instrumental to the death of Charles I.; he carried his enmity to the scaffold, and in his race of hostility eclipsed all the conspirators against the life of that unfortunate prince by a neck. My education was slender; Hone's works, and Mrs. Glass's cookery, amused me much. I had some acquaintaneewith steam, andin'music had studied Handle. I was fond of the water, and kept cutter. About this time I lost my father; he was a personage of some consideration, and had made the acquaintance of some men of figure in society. He was present at the death of the late Sir Samuel Romilly, Mr. Whitbread, and Lord Castlereagh. In my youth I was considered good looking; my figure was slender and well set; my manners polished, though occasionally blunt. I riveted the attention of the ladies, who considered I was a handsome hlade-, my general character was keen, and my temper uniform. I grew very tall, and was considered by my master a strapping fellow; he was a severe man, and often ° d me, he was, moreover, addicted to irony; his customers relished his cutting remarks. But I digress. When I first com- menced practice I had to encounter, without repining, or remon strance, the most humiliating privations and indignities. My master's shop was not A, in the art and mystery of the craft chirurgic; he was not at the top of the poll by any means; his customers were, generally speaking, petty tradesmen, and la- bourers who, excepting at Easter time, Whitsuntide, and other public carnivals, seldom shaved oftener than once a week. No one can describe or imagine the soul depressions I experienced in mowing down the ignominious stubble of these barbarian's chins, Often did I, in the petulence of the moment, and being edged on by Apollyon, the prince of darkness, burn in all the malignity of my heart to exhibit my prowess by the legitimate fine practice of a well- bred razor, to cut accurately, and in fine style, the wisens of these horrible savages, an act that would have envoived but one shave more, viz.— a post mortem one. At the end of my time, and Heaven knows that that time to me was an eternity, I made up my mind to cut the great unwashed, and confine my operations to the more genteel divisions of a nation's prosperity; to this end I baptized myself into a new life by a process quite as orthodox as the renovators of souls employ in offering salvation to their adherents and partizans. I set myself down to the diligent use of those agencies that work out newness of life: I was ground afresh, and with the agencies of the horn and strop, gleamed out into an extraordinary brilliancy of existence. So sharp and acute were my attributes that I could sever a long hair held in the fingers, and perform other matchless wonders. Shortly after I had attained to this perfection, I fell into a trance; how long I remained in this situation I know not. When I came to my senses, I found myself in a dark dreary dungeon, redolent of the scent of lavender. In this miserable situation I continued for a considerable time; at last, the light of day breke upon me in a moment, and with full splendour. In gazing round I found myself neatly disposed of on a silk dress surrounded with cambric handkerchiefs, and stockings of all colours. The being that had revealed to me the light was a parchment- skinned old woman, with a dim bewildered- looking eye, and brow of uttermost despair; she' took me up in her shrivelled paws, and grasped me, with a melo- dramatic stare. The incipient tragedy I had noticed in her horrible lineaments now burst forth into a startling fifth- act sort of business; I felt a shudder, for I guessed that my agency was for a mortal result. The wintry wind, accompanied with a shrill whistle, shook the casement; it was the best imitation of the incantation scene of Der Freichutz I ever heard. The fear- smitten hag dropped me in a moment upon the silken dress aferesaid; and her withered claws wandered about ia the neighbourhood of the stockings. Again 6he grasped me, and stealthily closed the drawer, in which I had been entombed; she opened me and fetched a deep sigh. I moralized for a moment on the philosophy of suicide; I felt, acutely felt, that I was to be the fatal instrument of this horrible sybil's demise. I felt more than this, viz., that I should be ruined in the gory experiment. " I shall cut her throat beautifully," said I to myself; " but when she comes to her tough, old, cat- gut jugular, my beautiful edge will be hacked like a saw;" she gazed upon me with her fearful ogles, gave a groan as deep as from the womb of iEtna, and then planted herself in a large arm chair. She stooped her head as low as her knees— I shuddered; fain would I hide the horrible picture; she cut,— she cut— have mercy Heaven! she cut— her corns! PUBLIC NUISANCES NO- 1, LOCALITY— THE COFFEE STALL, CORNER OF SUN STREET, BISIIOPSGATE. There are a class of nuisances to be found in London which, whilst they are of daily occurrence and cause considerable annoyance to the parties who come in contact with them, are not considered suf- fiently formidable to attract the attention of the police, or come under the notice of the press. Of this class are the Organ- grinders, Bone Boilers, Tallow- melters, Dealers in Marine Stores, Bed and Mattrass Makers, & c. & c. The nuisance, however, to which we have more than once had our attention called, is of a character very different to any one of the above, being of the following de- scription. Situated immediately at the corner of Sun- street, is a large pork- butcher's and butter- shop, which, on Saturday nights, by the immense stock its proprietor displays, contrives to render the publie pathway impassable, and we have seen even upon that wide thoroughfare, persons compelled to take the road. It is not, however, of this establishment, we, in the day time, are about to to complain, but rather when the " shadows of night have fallen, upon the earth," and the majority of honest tradesmen have re- tired to rest, in fact, after midnight, that the nuisance commences. A woman, by the kindness of Sir. Beck, in the first place, and the supineness of the police in the second, is permitted after twelve o'clock to place against his premises, a large coffee stall, which, with the assistance of chairs, baskets, See., projects considerably over the foot- path. It would almost appear from the sequel, that these articles are placed for the purpose of throwing persons down, and that, coupled with other circumstances, has rendered the corner of Sun- street a positive nuisance to the neighbourhood. There are a class of people it must be borne in mind, who are compelled, from the nature of their calling, to be out till a very advanced period of the night; ofj this cha- racter are printers, and persons generally connected with the press, and numerous, very numerous are the observations we have heard made by them, relative to this sunny coffee- stall, whilst some letters have reached us " promising a rare treat if we paid a visit to this place at two in the morning." We have done so, and found, in place of a treat, the house of Mr. B. surrounded with the lowest prostitutes that walk Bishopsgate- street, hailing or in- sulting every passer- by. On Friday morning last, the 18th we observed a respectable, middle- aged man surrounded by three dirty drabs of women, who insisted upon treating them to coffee ; and after he had been there a few minutes, a demand was made upon him for tzvo shillings and threepence, which he was compelled to pay. About three weeks, since a gentleman, a reporter on one of the morning papers, was thrown down, in consequence of a chair being placed across the pathway, and was robbed, or lost through the fall, thirteen shillings; a row was then got up, and a police- man who was taking his coffee round the corner, in Sun- street, positively took the gentleman to the station- house, without hear- ing his complaint. Although sosoewhatthe worse for drink, the person knew what he was about, and the case was dismissed ; next morning, however, feeling annoyed at the manner in which he had been treated, he applied at the shop of Mr. B. for the name of the woman, and subsequently at the station- house for that of the policeman. Feeling, however, that the loss of time would be more value than the money, and that he could not swear who had his cash, he let the matter drop, probably thinking the loss of the thirteen shillings a fit punishment for being drunk. That there may be no misunderstanding about this matter, we give to Mr. Beck, the name of the policeman, and we think as a respectable tradesman, he should make it a matter of business to prevent the repetition of such scenes at the door of his establishment. We should add, that the language made use of by the wretches who congregate at the corner of Sun- street, after midnight is of the most horrible description. The name of the policeman was BUNTING, and we can obtain for Mr. Beck, the name of the re- porter who lost his money, though, doubtless, the policeman, in consequence of this statement, will sido with and protect the coffee- stall hag. Nelson Lee, who is proverbial for clever discoveries, told Ned Saville, a few weeks since, that he had been informed, from very, very good authority, that Mrs. W. West invariably wore odd stockings. " Well, there's nothing very wonderful in that," was the answer, " I can easily understand it." " Can you?" ex- claimed the parade proprietor, " tell us, then." " Because she don't like the fellows about her legs." ( Oh!) " What would I give," young Betsy cries, " To find out if my lover lies, Or if the truth is in him." Her married sister, nothing loath, Says, " Jane, the way to find out both, Is only to lie with him." SOMETHING NOVEL IN LONDON. During the past week a group of countrymen have appeared in some of our leading throughfares, attired as morris- dancers, accompanied by a violin and tambourine. It is very many years since such a party has been seen in the streets of the metropolis, and they were liberally rewarded by the lookers- on. The girls appeared very much t « approve of their movements, and as they were fine- looking young fellows, it was rather amusing to hear the observations of some of the old married women, as the ohaps " Twisted, and turned themselves about; Bodies wriggling, toes turned out, Arms extended, stick in hand, A wicked, rogueish looking band." A number of artificial flower- girls in Spencer- street, floswell- street Road, joined in the dance for a few minutes. A large countryman, however, in a very short smock- frock, got very much excited, and the policeman came up in time to order the party to move on. Old Mrs. Tayleure, of Spencer- street, said it was high time the police did interfere; she had been a married woman 31 years, and heard a good deal about countrymen's tricks, but she never saw such an affair before in her life— it quite staggered her. A young man and maid bavins, got into a huge round sugar barrel together, and the constable receiving notice of it, came thither, and was resolved to send them to the court- house, " Oh, no," says a gentleman, " by no means ; for you see they have put themselves in the round- house already." A handsome girl was brought by a constable before a justice, late at night. The justice bid him take her home to his house all night. " Yes, sir," says he, " I will; if you will commit my wife till the morning." A wench having been got with child, her mistress would know who got it. She said nobody. " YOK wretch, do you think any woman can be with child without a man 2" " Why," says she, " may not I have a child without a man, as well as a hen lay eggs without r / wekr f PRESUMPTIVE EVIDENCE.— A gentleman of most respectabl" appearance, some years since, summoned a coachman for exacte ing more than than his legal fare. The defence set up by th coachman was, that the gentleman was accompanied by a lady and he had not charged one farthing too much for the ride the gentleman had had, and went on to insinuate the vehicle had been used for a highly improper purpose. The gentleman indignantly repelled the charge, observing that it was impossible, as the lady was his grandmother. The coachman, however, persisted in his scandalous charge, saying he was certain, as upon opening the door, the gentleman's clothes were disarranged. A solicitor who was watching the case said, that was mere presumptive evidence, for he rememberered a case in the Court of Queen's Bench of crim, con., where it appeared in evidence that a little boy, the son of the lady implicated, had been sent for a bottle of wine by the de- fendant to a neighbouring tavern, where the plaintiff was smoking his pipe; the plaintiff seeing his son come for a bottle of wine, asked him who gave him the money to pay for it—" Mr. Mercer," ( the defendant), said the boy, innocently, " and there's such a scrambling with him and mother, for I think by his trousers, he was going to put the drawing- room fire out." Oh, the bonuy Queen of England, we'll pledge with three times three, Amang the monarchs o' the world her like we dinna see; Nae domineering she, that cringing slaves obey, Her land the land o' freedom is, and freemen own her sway ; From a' the potentates o' earth, the palm she bears away. The Queen, wi' three times three, my lads— hurrah, hurrah ! hurrah! Oh, the Queen o' bonny England, is queen o' ladies bright, She reigns within her people's hearts, their glory and delight. ' Tis not alane her royal blood, nor yet her gracefu' air, For the bonny Queen o' England is guid as she is fair. The Queen o' bonny lasses, and the lass abune them a', Her health— and three times three, my lads— hurrah, hurrah • hurrah! Oh, the bonny Queen o' England, is queen o' honest men, And wha's anither such, guid faith, I'm sure I dinna ken; An honest heart she weel can prize, where'er it may be found, ' Neath homely guise, or midst the great, her throne, that circle round; And she. her people dearly loves, nae matter great or sma', The Queen— wi' three times three, my lads— hurrah, hurrah hurrah ! BIRTHS WISHED FOR. Mrs. Samuel Pips, of Butcherall- lane, of a boy, the model of his old woman. Mrs. Cluett, the vocalist, of a little girl, the counterpart of George. Miss Rainsforth, of twins, one excessively like Bill Pearce, the other questionable. Madame Vestris, of a tremendous boy, mother's legs and face the image of " dear Charley." Mrs. James Smith, of Greenwich- road, of twins. Mrs. Prince, of Brunswick- street, Deptford of a son, ( like Pul- linger). MARRIAGES LOOKED FORWARD TO. Mr. ( late Alderman) Harmer, to Mrs. Beale, Eyre- street- hill. Mr. Henry Smith, bricklayer, of New Town, Deptford, to Miss Ducky Waller, of the same place. Mr. Jessop, baker, of King- street, to Mrs. Wallace, of Blechingly, Kent. Mr. James Brown Herbert, Ship Hotel, Saffron- hill, to Miss Matilda Farthingduff, Mutton- hill. Mr. Phillips, King's Arms, Queenhithe, to Mrs. Margaret Muf- fedup, Bow- passage, Bow- lane. Count Sidney Straukemorffen, Jermyn- street, to Elizabeth Jane Longstretchit, Air- street, Piccadilly. NOTICE TO THE TRADE. Persons finding any difficulty in obtaining " THE TOWN," at the East end of London, can be supplied from CAFFYN, Oxford- street, Mile- end; COLE, Bedford- street, Commercial- road, East, and REYNOLDS, 25, Church- road, St. George's, East, where a good stock of back numbers are always kept on hand. IMPORTANT TO THE PUBLIC. The Re- issue of all the Numbers are now ready. ORIGINAL PARISIAN REPOSITORY. Established 1S40. GENTLEMEN sending a Stamp to THOMAS WARD, 2, St. Martin's Court, St. Martin's Lane, can have a Catalogue of Books, Prints, and Facetiae, post- free.— Just published, The Ad- ventures of a Young Officer, coloured plates, 10s. 6d.; post- paid, 12s. Monrose, the Libertine, from the French, plates, 10s. 6d.; post- paid, 12s. Philosophy of Pleasure, plates, 10s. 6d.; post- paid, 12s. Marriage, Is. Gd.; post- paid, Is. lOd. Pretty Girls of London, coloured plates, 10s. 6d.; post- paid, lis. Beauty of Woman, six plates, 3s. 6d. Curiosities, 2s. 6d. Spicc Nuts, Is. Tit Bits, Is. All post- paid. Coal- Hole Songs, twelve parts, Is. each; vols, at 2s. 6d. and 3s. 6d. Single plates, Is., 2s., 3s., and 5s. each. Printed and published lor the Proprietors by W. WINN, Holywell- street, Strand, where all communications are to be addressed.