1 NO. 5 2. j Each Part may iP„ ti » y K3S2 } PUBLISHED WEEKLY. FllCC 1( 1.— BIT BOSt 2( 1. £ the Office, for Eighteen Stamps- J por remote parts, Single Copies may be sent direct from the Office, for 2 Postage Stamps, or 26 Stamps per Quarter. A BIT OF COUNTRY LIFE. " Oh! that will be joyful, | " That will be joyful, | " When we meet to part no more!' ( See Page 2.) AN IRISH ABDUCTION. BY AMBROSE HUDSON. It was a beautiful summer's evening, and the sun was just setting behind the long range of blue mountains near the village of Car- rahoyle, in the west of Ireland, when widow Malloy sat stitching at her cabin door. The landscape was pretty, and so was the cabin for that matter, for the mistress kept it as clean as herself, and the flowers were creeping about the door and tbe little win- dows, and everything about betokened a better state, than that of absolute poverty; but the prettiest object of all was the little widow herself. She was four or five- and- twenty, fair and blue- eyed, with a mouth that said— as plainly as any mouth could— it was made for kissing^ and liked it. Her figure was of the most inviting plumpness, and looking at the outline of her beautiful bust, the thought invariably popt across your mind, that it was just the very place you'd like to lay your head upon, and sink to slum- ber, if you had only had the right to twine those white and rounded arms about you. She was singing to herself in a low sweet voice, when an approaching footstep caused her to look up from her work, and 6he recognised a rejected suitor in the person of Micky Scanlan. Micky did not bear the best of characters and the widow did not like him, so that all I need add to his description is this:— he was red- headed, pock- marked and bandy- legged. ' There ye are again then, widdy,' eaid the arrival, knocking the the ashes out of bis dhudeen, ' sitting alone in your solitude like Lot's wife in the pillar of salt, when you might be Mrs. Scanlan, and may be the happy mother of half a dozen little iamily branches.' ' Shure, now, Micky,' replied the widow, ha' done wi' yer non- sense, and don't be making a fool of yourself. Aint I engaged to be married to another boy, and how could I have you if I would unless I made a bigamy of meself ?' ' I kiiow well enough who you mane,' exclaimed Scanlan, angrily. ' Tim Malowny, and bad cess to him.' , Och ! don't say that, Micky, he never did ye no harm for the matter o' that.' ' No harm ! Isn't he going to marry the woman I love, and d'ye call that no harm? Doesn't he stand bechuxt me aud my hopes— and is that no harm? If it wasn't for him, wouldn't you be afther loving me, and is that no harm ? Divil burn such harm, say I!' ' Faith! now, Misther Scanlan, darling, if its really loving me you are, won't you be pleased to see me happy ?' ' N ot with another, and that other Tim Malowny. By the piper that played before Moses it'll be a dark day for him when be takes you to the priest,' ' The sun's that setting behind them hills, and promises the morrow'U be fine, says quite contrairy to that same, Micky Scan- lan my jewel.' Both the widow and her suitor started at the voice;— it came from an ugly little woman in a red cloak, who was nodding to them over the hedge. ' Peggie Dalton!' exclaimed the widow. ' The ould witch!' muttered Scanlan. ' Shure I know what purtty things you're thinking of me, Micky, but if I'm a witch I won't be one for nothing— mind that. I say again, and tell ye both, though ye little think it, before that sun shall set again, the widdy Malloy shall be mistress Malowny,' and with a low chuckle, that would have sounded remarkably un- pleasant in the ear of the stoutest hearted gentleman in a church- yard at midnight, the ancient dame hobbled off. Peggie Dalton had a wonderful reputation as a cunning woman, and she was alike feared and respected even by the wildest in that superstitious district. The widow looked at Scanlan, and grew half frightened at the expression of his countenance. ' Don't believe her, Micky,' she said,' I haven't an idea of being married for a long month to come.' ' I don't belave the ould Jezabel, Misthress Malloy, and yo shan't be married to- morrow— I swear it!' ' Shan't, Misther Scanlan!' ' No! by———,' and he swore a tremendous oath,' unless in deed it's me you'll be throtting to the altar with, mavoureen.' ' Once for all, Micky Scanlan, my love is given to another, my word is pledged, and I would sooner die than break it.' ' You mean that same?' ' I do!' 110 T H E TOWN. ' Then look to't, Widdy Malloy, there may he worse in store for ye,' and muttering he departed. A deep shadow fell upon the face of the widow, and a sigh escaped her, as she caught up her work, and stepped within doors; but care did not sit upon her naturally, and she speedily flung back dark thoughts as she would the dust from ber shoes and busied herself about ber little cottage and again sat down to stitch She was absorbed in thought, and she did not hear the latch of the cabin door as it was raised behind her, and a broad shouldered well- made young fellow stepped softly into the room that served ' Parlor and kitchen, and hall.' Creeping as gently as might be, to the back of her chair, he threw one arm round her neck, and with his right hand seized hers, and startled, she was beginning a little scream, when he stopped her mouth with kisses. It was Tim Malowny, and the widow was no longer alarmed. But we must leave she lovers to talk of the future, and hurry to a meaner cabin in the neighbourhood. It is now dark, but there is one candle burning on the table of this rude hovel, and four men of rough appearand;— three of whom look like smugglers— are seated, smoking and drinking ; Micky Scanlan makes up the quartette. ' I tell ye, boys, if its done nately I'll pay you handsomely. Where does the lugger lay ?' ' Eight miles lower down the coast in the Devil s creek. But will the job be safe V ' Safe !' replied Scanlan, indignantly. ' You a smuggler, and ask me if its safe. Divil fly away wid me, what do you want ? There'll be nobody in the cabin but the widdy, and all we have to do is to take her tenderly out of her bed at midnight, tie a hand- kerchief across her mouth, pop her into the cart, and ride away with her. Once aboard the ' Dasher,' and under sail for Holland, there'll be little fear of Misther Tim Malowny or Peggie Dal ton ather, and then I'll pay ye like jontlemen, and join the free flag meself.' ' Ho! ho! ho!' and there was a low chuckle neard as he spoke. ' Ho! v Mother!' exclaimed Scanlan, as he started to his feet. He rushed to the door, and bis companions followed him. On every side they searched round the hovel; but they found no one, and agreeing the sound must have been the effects of fancy or tbe wind, they returned to their carouse. Tim Malowny was bidding adieu to the widow, when a rapping was heard at her cabin door. ' Who can it be, Tim, at this time o'niglit ? its afeared I am.' ' Don't that prove to ye, my darling, ye oughn't to be leftalone, sleeping in an out of tbe way little crib like this, instead of a re- spectable four- poster between good brick walls, with a boy like me by your side to take care of you?' Rap- rap, continued the noise. ' I'll go meself and see,' said Tim. ' And if you do, I'll go wid ye,' said the widdy, and she looked up so confidingly iu Tim's face, that Tim did,— just what you or I, would have done under the same circumstances— kissed her up- turned pouting lips. ' Peggie Dal ton, again!' cried the widow. ' When the door was opened, the old woman stepped in with- out a word, and hastily made all fast. She told them she had a matter of moment to reveal. What was the result of her com- munication we shall see by and bye. It was on the stroke of twelve, when four men, with a rickety cart, driven by a gaunt horse, stopped some dozen yards from the widow's gate. Three of them advanced towards the cabin, while one remained with the vehicle. They hammered at the door and shouted, and their cries might have struck terror to any heart within, for there was no aid within two miles, and there only another cabin. They received no reply to their clattering demand for admission. ' Can the bird have flown ?' asked one of the men. ' Impossible!' answered Scanlan, ' she must be asleep. Let me break open the door,' and putting his shoulder to the frail woodwork, hp forced it open on jhe instant. ' HuBh ! boys, be silent;— no need of light here— we can't mis- take our road,' and he led the way into the chamber of the sleep- ing woman. Gently running his hand over the bed- clothes he traced the outline of her form. ' Och! how beautifully the dear creature sleeps,' he whispered. ' I can feel her eyes are closed, and she doesn't dratrie the loving heart that's next her.' He untied the kerchief from his neck, aud before the widow had time to wake from his touch, whipped the cotton across her mouth, and tied it behind her head. So suddenly aroused, she struggled violently, but they bore her rapidly in her night dress — only stopping to throw an old coat around her quivering form — to the cart without, and jumping jin, drove off as quickly as possible towards the sea- coast. There was no moon, and the night was very dark, but Micky sat down beside his love, and took her head upon bis lap, and poured sweet words of kindness and devotion in her ear ; and at laBt as they neared their destination, he had succeeded so well, in excusing his conduct, that the dear object of his affection squeezed his band in reply to his earnest prayer for forgiveness. When they reached the smuggler's cave, near which their vessel lay, the grey morn was breaking, but he bore his gentle burthen in his arms, and as he folded ber next his heart she almost seemed to cling to him with fondnes1. ' A light there, boys, and let's remove this rag from the little beauty's lips.' A lantern was brought that threw a bright glare round the rude cavern, and the kerchief was untied. Peggie Lawton in the widow's night- gown and Micky's great coat, sat up in her age and ugliness, and laughed in tho faces of the assembled rascals. Scanlan immediately discovered that he had been duped, and pale with rage, would have almost murdered the old dame, but he was withheld by the smugglers, who, in spite of the probable lots of their anticipated reward, could not help laughing at his dis- comfiture. ' And is it thus you trate me, Micky dear, afther all your vows of love? Och! kill me if you dare. You know the ould witch better— you havn't the heart, and what's the use of hanging for an ould bag o' bones such as the likes o' me, if ye had ? Better make me a friend than a foe, and when next you plot your devil's work, be sure there's never an eye and an ear at the cabin win- dow. I told you the widdy would be Misthress Malowny before another sunset, aud faith! it's thrue, for I put ' em on their guard took the widdy's place in bed, and got ' em out o' the way o' your friendly clutches, and it's not an hour they'll lose before they go to the priest. They're far enough off by this time, and in a month they'll sail for furrin parts. Ye'd better, divide the guineas you've got in yer pocket bechuxt these honest jintlemen and meself, and go home and be a good boy in the time to come, and hear no more of the past, but turn as honest as ye can, aud keep Peggie Dalton a friend for the rest of lier natural life— the ould witeh !' Micky followed her advice, and at this moment Mr. and Mrs Malowny are thriving emigrants in Australia. THE CHARMED LIFE; l° v; fatl OR, THE REVELATIONS OF A POLICEMAN. BY AMBROSE HUDSON. PR « i cal ' Count,' continued Major Lawton, ' this is no place for you th< ou had better cross the water instantly ; they think less of these fia: tatters in France or your own country than in England. Neither lall I be in safety myself.' bu ' Sir,' replied Belluonimi,' to me all countries are alike. You do ha ot know me or would truly credit me a citizen of the world. It imps with my design to leave England directly, but I have no ; ar of the vindication of the law, and believe me, sir, I'd gladly hange this breathing life to lie a senseless clod of earth again, like sh hese remains in which the blood is not yet cold. Good morning, cc iajor Lawton:' and he coolly bent his steps the way he came, as hough there had been no excitement— danger— death! at the bl neeting on that May morning. ' Where do you come from, boy,— what brings you here ?' en- ( uired Lawton, now turning to me. I explained who I was, how I had heard the challenge, and se nade up my mind to he present at the duel; how I had also heard ivery word that passed between them in the meadow, and been a h ivitness to the whole scene. He seemed inexpressibly relieved as I s< ; old him this, and begging me to remain and guard the dead body; h he started off to drive hack again into town, promising to sendassis- 1 tance directly. I sighed heavily, as I sat down upon the grass, and ft contemplated death, for the first time. It seemed to my young mind that it had no business there in ghastly form beneath the bright sunlight, and the fresh songs of the birds, that twittered in 0 hedges, rang in my ears a painful mockery. I was not long " left alone. The surgeon and another officer be- t longing to the regiment together with some constables, who had caught the rumour, and several others now appeared. Making a a bier of a hurdle, over which they spread a military cloak, they laid j the body upon it, and borne on the shoulders of four men it was " c conveyed back to the barracks. The procession was a mournful s one; and I could not help contrasting the young officer full of pride and health, as I saw him alight from the major's tilbury an hour before, with the crushed and broken piece of earth they bore before me. s The news spread rapidly. An inquest was held immediately; the j captain's papers were found, which went to show that Belluonimi and c himself had been the principals in a duel, the arrangements of which had been confided to Lawton. A verdict of ' manslaughter' only was returned against the two, but warrants were immediately 1 issued for the apprehension of both. i Major Lawton, it was understood, had taken ship in a brig that • had just set sail for Holland, but what had become of Count Bel- uonimi, no one knew. Admiral Franklin was of course deeply distressed, and Mary : continued to imprison herself in her own room, her maid only being admitted to ber presence. Several visitors called during the day, doubtless, to, offer their condolence, but she was denied to all;— the message ran that Miss Franklin was too unwell to receive even her best friends. In the course of the afternoon there was a letter brought, which I took upstairs to the lady's maid, and in one corner was written ' Belluonimi.' The man who had brought it waited for no reply, 1 and the absolute wording of the contents I never knew, though the sequel, which I am about to relate, will enable you to guess at its purport. Before the breakfast hour of the following morning it was dis- covered that Miss Franklin had eloped from our house. There was no letter left, no clue given by which we might trace out her route, and numerous where the conjectures after awhile as to ber destina- tion, and her fate. Within nine hours from the moment she had left my aunt's, there was a very strong belief prevalent that the young lady bad drowned herself either in the trout- stream at the bottom of the garden, the great water- butt, or Geoffrey Thompson's mill- pond. No one knew, but everybody conjectured; not to have done so would have seemed behind the age, and who the Goth or Vandal that seeks out an ignominous notoriety— at least in a country town? The admiral was in despair. A thousand doubts perplexed bis mind, and he could form neither conclusion nor resolve. Tbe next post brought a letter addresssed to the old man: it was from bis daughter and ran thus: My dear kind father, have no fears for the safety or the happi- ness of your affectionate child, MARY.' And where was she, where was this recusant child? tbe letter bore the post- mark ' Dover,' and I could not help telling the old gentle- man the last I had held iu my hand had a different word in the corner. He inquired what I meant, and I repeated the name of Belluonimi. He started up wildly, and implored me to speak out plainly all I knew, they had coupled his child with this mysterious stranger, but it was in an indistinct way, he had not heeded it, did they mean to say that she had fled her home in the company of that man, deserted her father— her fond, doting father, for one of whom she knew positively nothing. He had rendered her great service it was true, he had saved her life— sbe must be grateful to him, but he had quarrelled with her destined husband, shot him lover, who caught her in his arms and frowned defiance on her father. If, sir, you came but to make your daughter wretched your presence here may well be dispensed with.' ' Villain! seducer!' retorted the old sailor, ' how dare you thus calmly face the father of the girl you've cast to shame ? Cursed be the hour I saw you! 0 God! that she bad perished in the I have no answer, sir, to this. Your longer remaining here but adds to your daughter's trouble. Before you came she was happy.' ' Happy! monster of cruelty! in the arms of guilt?" ' In the arms of her lover,' replied the count. ' By heaven !' exclaimed the admiral. ' You madden me. These shall decide at once between us. Villain as you are, the quality of courage I believe, is left you still.' 1 No! sir, no,' replied Belluonimi, with a shudder, ' no more blood. My hand is already dipped too deep a red.' ' Coward!' ' I am none. In me, courage is no virtue.' ' Man! take up one of these, or by that hereafter we all hope to see I'll shoot you as you stand.' Mary Franklin screamed violently, and rushed to the bell. I had made towards the door, anxious to prevent the repetition of a scene I had so lately witnessed, but the admiral was before me, he had locked it, and put the key in his pocket, there was no escape. Mary now flung herself between the two men— her lover and her father. " The first that fires, must take bis aim through me!' There was a pause for a moment, and I thought the count changed color. ' To- morrow, to- morrow, sir, if it must be,' said he,' not— not in the presence of your daughter, and my—' ' Wife! you should have added, treacherous scoundrel!' cried the admiral. ' Come, now while my blood is boiling with the injuries you have heaped upon my head, now in the presence of my deluded child, who shall nerve my arm, and direct my aim to the heart of her seducer. Here, where there is no escape!' ' Father!' ' Stand back.' ' Down, Mary, down!' said the count, and with his left hand he swung her behind him, and forced her on her knees. Then snatch- ing up the pistol which the old man had flung upon the table, cried out— ' Since it must be so. Fire!' The whole thing was so instantaneous, there was no time— even had there Deen the power— for interruption by word, much less by act. Instinctively I thrust my fingers in my ears, but my eyes were riveted on the cruel picture, and I could not shut out the piercing scream, that broke from. Mary, as for tbe second time in I my young life, and within five days, I saw the flash, and heard the report of those deadly weapons. Were I not repeating an oc- currence of which I was an eye- witness, you would think that I loved romance and the description of scenes of horror. Not so. It even pains me, after so many years have past, to tell the issue of that scene. I shrink appalled before its ghastliness as it comes back and stabs my memory— but I must proceed, for I see you are interested — few words tell the remainder of that sad story. ( To be continued.) A BIT OF COUNTRY LIFE. ( See First Page.) As the year grows older, we begin to dream again of bright and sunny days, pleasure trips and excursions both by boat and rail, green trees and pleasant country fields. The fancy of our artist has evidently been influenced after this fashion. The scene is laid in glorious summer, but the lovers are in the spring- time of their youth, and— who would not bave them so?— doubtless for- getful of the world around. That good- looking fellow— who, by the bye, is remarkably like Sims Reeves— has evidently told his love, to the charming piece of humanity that clasps his neck, and he is talking with all the hopes and ardour of fresh manhood of the time to come. ' May I trust thee ? oh ! ' If that's thy soul that's looking through thine eyes, ' Thou lovs't me and I may!' Of course she may; but whether she may or may not, it is quite certain she will, from the pretty confiding look she wears. Who that has not been an actor in a scene like this, but wishes it ; and who that has, forgets ' those days now past and gone ?' Talk about the accumulation of money, the acquirement of in fluence and position, and the thousand ways of getting on in • the world— bah ! The most fortunate realization of worldly hap- piness in after life, does not afford a tithe, of the bliss we felt in the day- dreams of our youth. And yet there. are men so bard- headed, and cold- hearted, that they would rudely dispel these sweet visions of our boyhood, and wholly revolting from the Dower AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION. We were in company the other evening where the rights of women formed the topic of discourse. A stout gentleman pre- sent, vehemently denied a further extension of privileges, upon which a magnificent creature in black satin, and the whitesli shoulders we ever saw, started to her feet and exclaimed ' I'll tell you what it is Mr. Waggles, you had better drop the point at once, you can't keep it up, and will only be driven into a corner with all the petticoats up against you.' What title do authors and editors merit, who receive payment and negleot work ?— Pen shunners ( Pensioners). through the heart, the officers of justice were in pursuit of him, and — ah! what had led to this, what the cause of quarrel? For the first time a glimpse of the truth flashed upon the old man's mind. He had hitherto taken great notice of me, he saw from my manner that I knew more than I revealed, and sinking into the great arm- chair be beckoned me to him, and drew me between bis knees, and holding my face in the palm of his hands, said— ' Come, my man, tell the old fellow all you have heard and seen, and you shall be a sailor yet in spite of your aunt, if I take you to sea myself.' I recounted everything from the time I had first caught sight of Captain Granville hastening to our house, on the afternoon after the fire, up to the moment when I bad carried up stairs the letter for Miss Franklin on the corner of which was written the name of the count. The admiral no longer had any doubt; my story agreed in full with some information he had already received, but not sufficiently heeded. Begging my aunt to allow me to accompany him, he pro- posed instantly to set off in search of the fugitives. A reluctant consent was given, and within an hour, to my infinite satisfaction, I was sitting by the side of the admiral, rapidly whirled along in a post chaise towards Dover. During the whole way I could not help observing that he was in a state of the greatest possible excitement, and I shuddered as I looked a second time upon the implements of death. Again and again, did the admiral take them out and examine with all care and minuteness. I dared not ask his intentions, 1 could too easily guess them. It was late the next evening when we arrived in Brussels. Admiral Franklin constantly made reference to a memorandum which he carried in his pocket- book, bearing the address to which it appeared he was directed. It was a large, handsome- looking hotel, and the admiral entered it at once, holding me by the hand. His enquiries were immediately answered, and we were ushered to the door of an elegant saloon. It was thrown open, and we dis- covered the count stretched in an easy and graceful attitude upon a sofa, while Mary Franklin, beautiful as I had first seen her but a little paler, perhaps, sat before him on a low ottoman, looking up with love, and pride, and all the trustfulness of her, confiding of the imagination, with its good and softening influence upon our nature, pluck off at once the mask from life. It is the character of such men to sum up hopes and affections, as they would balls of ootton or tenpenny nails— on the principle that two and two make four. Sit beside one such in a theatre, and he will be at pains to tell you ' that arbour, sir's, all humbug! looks like flowers, but its only canvas painted. See the green bank that Rosalind sits down upon ? it is nothing but a deal box turned bottom upwards, in a coat of green, and I'd have you to know it is very hard and uncomfortable.' Down with the kill- joys! The troubles of the world come upon all of us quite soon enough— the hollowness of society is made iu due time quite suffi- ciently apparent— let us enjoy and hope while we may. Let them alone, and the toes of the REAL will be found in good time treading on the heels of tbe IDEAL, UNINTENTIONAL ROBBERY. Au Englishman arrived at Rome who could scaroeiy speak a word ot Italian. He heard, of course, not a little about assassins, robbers, and such like, and prudently resolved never to go out alone, and never to be out after dusk. Both these resolutions were fated to fail. He dined with a friend near Home and was obliged to walk home alone the same night. This looked terrific before dinner; but a few glasses of Marsala, and a few more of Champagne, braced up his courage, and away he started, about ten o clock. As he walked briskly along in the darkness, he came lull butt against a man. He was startled, and the tales he had heard recurred to his recollection; but the man passed on, and in a short time our hero felt for his watch, and found that it was gone Then the good wme came into play; he rushed back, seized the rascal, aud vehemently demanded ' Montre! moiitre '' lhe robber trembled, and reluctantly yielded up the watch. On reaching home he recounted with no little exultation, his heroic exploit, and vowed that if the rest of the world would behave as he had done, robbery would cease in Rome in a fortnight. When he had finished his oration, his sister said,' All this is very strange • for after you went out I saw vour watch harimno- ' ° ' golden locks and listening to her prattle. When she saw her father, she jumped up, and ran to him, and would have put her arms about his neok, but he repressed her, saying :— ' No, Mary ! not till I know that you are worthy of it. Sneak ! are you a wife ?' She made him no answer, and the blood forsook her cheek. She staggered back and would have fallen, had it not been for her . -.. . , „ - w- o m your room, and there it is now. Sure enough, there it was. So it appeared past all dispute, that instead of being robbed, he had himself committed a robbery. NEXT MONTH. As. the first of April is now no very distant day, prepare to accept your accommodation bills, and become sureties for your friends. Cnmmence also your five act tragedies. Persons about marry, look out! now's your time. T H E T O W N . 3 THE MYSTERIES OF LOVE: OR, THE Adventures of Munon Lescaut. Doubtless it will lead you to the gallows, and you will then have the unfading glory of being held up to the admiration of the world. I made no reply. He continued, in a tone of terrible severity, look at this counterfeit modesty, this hypocritical air of gentle- ness !— might he not pass for the most respectable member of his family ? Although I could not but fed that I deserved, in some degree, these reproaches, yet he appeared tome to carry them beyond all reason. I thought I might be permitted to explain my feelings. I showed him that it was all through love that I had fallen out, I implored him to pity me, and I could not help shedding a tear as I concluded this appeal. My father was a man of high feeling and good tuste, and was so sensibly affected by the turn I had given to my defence, that he could no longer hide from me the change I had wrought. Come to me, my poor chevalier, said he; come and embrace me. I do pity you! after some further conversation. He asked we whether I cuuld suggest any means of obtaining my liberty, and in such a way as to avoid publicity as much as possible. I told him of the kind feelings which the lieutenant- general of police hatl expressed towards me. If you encounter any obstacles, said I, they will be offered only by the two G. » . M .. .' s ; so that I think it would be advisable to call upon them. He promised to do so. I did not dare ask him to solit. it Manon's liberation; this was not from want of courage, but from the apprehension of exasper- ating him by snch a proposition, aud perhaps driving him to form some design fatal to the future happiness of us both. On quitting me, my father went to pay a visit to M. G... M ... He found him with his son, whom the guardsman had safely re- stored to liberty. I never learned the particulars of their con- versation ; but I could easily infer them irom the disastrous re- Suits. They went together ( the two old gentlemen) to the lieutenant- general of police, from whom they requested one favour each : the first was to havemeat once liberated from Le Chatelet; the second to condemn Manou to perpetual imprisonment, or to transport her for life to America. They happened, at that very period, to be sending out a number of convicts to the Mississippi. The lieutenaut- general promised to have her embarked on board the first vessel that sailed. M. G ... M ... and my father came together to bring me the news of my liberation. M. G ,.. M.. . said something civil with i reference to what had passed ; and having congratulated me upon my happiness in having such a father, he exhorted me to profit henceforward by his instruction and example. My father desired me to express my sorrow for the injustice I had even contem- plated against his family, and my gratitude for his having as- sisted in procuring my liberation. We all left the prison together, without the mention of Ma- non's name. I dared not in their presence speak of her to the turnkeys. Alas! all my entreaties in her favour would hare been useless. The cruel sentence upon Manou had arrived at the same time as the warrant for my discbarge. The unfortunate girl was conducted in an hour after to the Hospital, to be there classed with some other wretched women, who had been con- demned to the same punishment. My father having forced me to accompany him to the house where he was residing, it was near six o'clock before I had an op- portunity of escaping his vigilance. In returning to Le Chatelet, my only wish was to convey some refreshments to Mauou, and to recommend her to the attention of the porter; for I had no hope of being permitted to see her; nor had I, as yet, had time to re- flect on the best means of rescuing her. I asked for the porter. I had won his heart, as much by my liberality to him, as by the mildness of my manner ; so that, ha- ving a disposition to serve me, he spoke of Mason's sentence as a calamity which he sincerely regretted, since it was calculated to mortify me. I was at first unable to comprehend his meaning. We conversed for some minutes without my understanding him, and when I did so, truly may I say that never did apoplexy pro- duce on mortal a more suddeu or terrific effect. I fell prostrate, with so intense a palpitation of the heart, that as I swooned I thought that death itself was come upon me. When I recovered from my swoon, I repaired to Tiberge, find- ing he knew nothing of Maaon's incarceration, I said nothing to him upon the subject, but borrowed 25/. for present exigencies. Subsequently M. de T... generously presented me with fifty pounds, and there being but little time to lose as Mauon was to leave in two days, he advised me to hire some fellows, attack the guard, and rescue her as she left Paris. I was the more deter- mined to this course, seeing that young G... M ... refused to sign a petition for Manon's liberty, anil iny father, whom 1 ob- tained a private interview with in tbe gardens of the Luxembourg had parted with me iu great anger at tbe mention of her name. Alas ! how signally did this project fail, I employed the same guardsman who had seized young G... M..., and he engaged three stout fellows upon whom I spent all my money in arms and presents. The escort guarding Manon aud her sister con- victs were but six, but the moment my three companions saw them in place of assisting the guardsman and myself in attacking them they fled. This was on the outside of the Baniere, I there- fore dismissed the guardsman. I now addressed the leader of the escort, and after some conversation he consented to permit me to Oonverse with her upon iiie payment of a crown an hour— I spent some moments gazing at her as I rode alongside the carriage. 1 Shad so lost my self- possession, that I was several times on the point of falling from my horse. My Bighs and tears attracted her attention, aud the avarice of her guards permitting us to con- verse together ; I assured her that I would never leave her, and, although I had now but little money I would write to Tiberge. The rapacity of the gen d'armes when they saw the intensity of my passion, became so great, that by the time we reached Havre, I Was peunilesn. I wrote therelore to Tiberge, requesting him, as a last favour to forward me through the post titty pistoles. This he received, but by a strange latality his answer would arrive in the afternoon of the day. The morning of which Manon was to sail for America. As a last resource 1 sold my horse for forty ; government were looking for young meu as voluntary ... i ma hpinc sunnlip. d tfraris nistoleS. the government were ioo « . iuB ^ jv— o Emigrants. The passages and provisions being supplied gratis, nml with thirty- two pistoles I determined to accompany Manon. ) eight I should mention 1 had expended m a few necessary sles for her. The voyage was happily a favourable one, and arrived safelv at New Orleans. During the voyage I repre- and with thirty- two pii The articles we arrived safely at - Hi. sented Manon us being my wife, and upon fauding we were intro- duced to the governor, who treated us with singular kindness. I tound the place almost a desert, but the hut which was giveu us to livo in 1 endeavoured to make comfortable, cheered by MUUOU'B smiles. Our female companions on the voyage were lotted out to the male inhabitants, but wo were permitted to remain together. We carefully cultivated the governor's friendship. He be- stowed upon me, a few weeks after our arrival, a srnill appoint- ment which became vacant in the fort. Although not one of any di- Aineiion, 1 gratefully accepted it as a gift of Providence, as it enabled me to live independently of others' aid. I took a servant lor myself, and a woman for Mai, on. Our little establishment became settled: nothing could surpass the regularity of my con- duct, or that of Mauou; we lost no opportunity of serving or uoing an act of kindness to our neighbours. This friendly dis- position, and the mildness of our manners, secured us the confi- dence and a? ection of the whole colony. We soon became so respeoted, that wo ranked as the principal persons in the town after the governor. I now determined to marry Manon, and waited upon the vernor to inform him, that I had hitherto deceived him in that circumstance. The governor had a nephew named Synnelet, of whom he was particularly fond. He was about thirty; brave, but of a head- strong and violent disposition. He was not married. Manon's beauty had struck him on the first day of our arrival ; and the numberless opportunities he had of seeing her during the last nine or ten months, had so inflamed his passion, that he was ab- solutely pining for her in secret. However, as he was convinced in common with his uncle and the whole colony that I was mar- ried, he put such a restraint upon his feelings, that they remained generally unnoticed ; and he lost no opportunity of showing the most disinterested friendship for me. He happened to be with his uncle when I arrived at the go- vernment house. I had no reason for keeping my intention a secret from him, so that I explained myself without hesitation in his presence. The governor beard me with his usual kindness. I related to him a part of my history, to which he listened with evident interest; and when I requested his presence at the in- tended ceremony, he was so generous as to say. that he must be permitted to defray the expences of the succeeding entertainment. I retired perfectly satisfied. In an hour after, the chap ain paid me a visit. I thought he was come to prepare me by religious instruction for the sacred ceremony; but, after a cold salutation, he announced to me in two words, that the governor desired I would relinquish all thoughts of such a thing, for that he had other views for Manon. Other views for Mauon! said I, as I felt my heart sink within me; what views then can thoy be, chaplain ? He replied, that I must be of course aware that the governor was absolute master here; that Manou, having been transported from France to the colony, was entirely at his disposal; that hitherto he had not exercised his right, believing that she was a married woman ; bnt that now, having learned from my own lips that it was not so, he had resolved to assign her to M. Synnelet, who was passionately in love with her. My indignation overcame my prudence. Irritated as I was, I desired the chaplain instantly to quit my house, swearing at the same time that neither governor, Synnelet, nor the whole colony together, should lay hands upon my wife, or mistress, if they chose so to call her. I informed Manon of what had occurred, and her indignation was equal to my own. I therefore waited upon the governor, but no prayers or entreaties could move him. I was, on my return home, when Fate, as if impatient to ex- pedite my ruin, threw Synnelet in my way. He read in my countenance a portion of my thoughts. I before said he was brave. He approached me. Are you not seeking me ? he inquired. I know that my inten- tions have given you mortal offence, and that the death of one of us is indispensable : let us see who is to be the happy man. I replied, that such was unquestionably the fact, and that no- thing but death could end the difference between us. We retired about one hundred paces out of the town. We drew: I wounded and disarmed him at the first onset, He was so en- raged, that he peremptorily refused either to ask his life or re- nounce his claims to Manon. I might have been perhaps justified in ending both by a single blow ; but noble blood ever vindicates its origin. I threw him back his sword. Let us renew the strug- gle , said I to him, and remember that there shall be now no quarter. He attacked me with redoubled fury. I must confess that I was not an accomplished swordsman, having had but three months tuition at Paris. Love, however, guided my weapon. Synnelet pierced me through and through the left arm ; but I caught him whilst thus engaged, and made so vigorous a thrust that I stretched him senseless at my feet. In spite of the triumphant feeling that victory, after a more mortal conflict, inspires, I was immediately horrified by tbe cer- tain consequences of this death. There could not be the slightest hope of either pardon or respite from the vengeance I had thus incurred. Aware as I was of the affection of the governor for his nephew, I felt perfectly sure that my death would not be delayed a single hour after his should become known. Urgent as this ap- prehension was, it still was by no means the principal source of my uneasiness. Manou, the welfare of Manon, the peril that im- pended over her, and the certainty of being now at length separ- ated from her, afflicted me to such a degree, that I was incapable of recognizing the place iu which I stood. I regretted Synnelet's death : instant suicide seemed the only remedy lor my woes. I returned towards the town; on my arrival at home, I found Manon half dead with fright and anxiety: my presenoe restored her, I informed her of what had occurred, when sbe raised her- self in spite of her weakness, and taking hold of my hund to lead me towards the door : Let us, said sbe, fly together, we have not a moment to lose; Synnelet's body may be found by chance, and we shall then have no time to escape. But, dear Manon, replied I, to what place can we fly ? Do you perceive any resource ? Would it not be better that you should endeavour to live on with- out me ; and that I should go and voluntarily place my life in the governor's hands ? She was, however, obBtiuate in accompanying me, aud we de- parted immediately. We journeyed on as long as Manon's strength would permit, that is to say, about six miles ; for this incomparable creature, with her usual absense of selfishness, refused my repeated entrea- ties to stop. Overpowered at length by fatigue, she acknowledged the utter impossibility of proceeding further. It was already night: we sat down in the midst of an extensive plain, where we could not even fiud a tree to shelter us. Her first care was to dress my wound, which she had bandaged before our departure. I in vain entreated her to desist from exertion: it would have only added to her distress if I had refused her the satisfaction of see- ing me at ease and out of danger, before her own wants were attended to. I allowed her therefore to gratify herself, and in shame and silence submitted to her delicate attentions. But when she had completed her tender task, with what ar- dour did I not enter upon mine! I took off my clothes and stretched them under her, to render more endurable the hard and rugged ground on which she lay. 1 protected her delicate hands from the cold by my burning lcisse3 and the warmth of my sighs. I passed the live- long night in watching over her as she slept, and praying Heaven to refresh her with soft and undisturbed repose. We had thus tranquilly passed the night. I had fondly ima- gined that my beloved mistress was in a profound sleep, and I hardly dared to breathe lest I should disturb her. As day broke I observed that her hands were cold and trembling ; I pressed them to my bosom in the hope of restoring animation. This movement roused her attention, and making an effort to grasp my hand, she Baid, iu a feeble voice, that she thought her last mo- ments had arrived. I at first took this for a passing weakness, or the ordinary lan- guage of distress; and I answered with the usual consolations that love prompted. But her incessant sighs, her silence, and in- attention to my inquiries, the convulsed grasp of her hands, in which she retained mine, soon convinced me that the crowning end of all my miseries was approaching. Do not now expect ine to attempt a description of my feelings, or to repeat her dying expressions. . I lost her— I received the purest assurances of her love even at the very instant that her spirit lied. I have not nerve to say more upon this fatal and disastrous event. I remained for twenty- four hours without taking my lips from the still beauteous couuteuance aud hands of my adored Manon My intention was to await my own death in that position; bu at the beginning of the second day, I reflected that, after I w. gone, she must of necessity become the prey of wild beasts. I then determined to bury her, and wait my own doom upon her grave. I was already, indeed, so near my end from the com- bined effect of long fasting and grief, that it was with the greatest difficulty I could support my standing. I was obliged to have recourse to the liquors which I had brought with me, and these restored sufficient strength to enable me to set about my last sad office. From tb^ sandy nature of the soil there was little trouble in opening the ground. I broke my sword and used it for the purpose; but my bare hands were of greater service. I dug a deep grave, and there deposited the idol of my heart, after having wrapt around her my clothes to prevent the sand from touching her. I kissed her ten thousand times with all the ardour of the most glowing love, before I laid her in this melancholy bed. I sat for some time upon the bank intently gazing on her, and could not command fortitude enough to close the grave over her. At length, feeling that my strength was giving way, and apprehensive of its being entirely exhausted before the completion of my task, I committed to the earth all that it had ever contained most per- fect and peerless. I then lay myself with my face down upon the grave, and closing my eyes with the determination never again to open them, I invoked the mercy of Heaven, and ardently prayed for death. Synnelet having been carried into the town and skilfully ex- amined, it was found that, so far from being dead, he was not even dangerously wounded. He informed his uncle of the man- ner in which the affray had occurred between us, aud he gene- rously did justice to my conduct on the occasion. I was sent for, and as neither of us could be found, our flight was immediately suspected. It was then too late to attempt to trace me, but the next day and the following one were employed in the pursuit. I was found, without any appearance of life, upon the grave of Manon : and the persons who discovered me in this situation, seeing that I was almost naked and bleeding from my wounds, naturally supposed that I had been robbed and assassinated. They carried me into the town. The motion restored me to my senses. The sighs I heaved on opening my eyes and finding my- self still amongst the living, showed that I was not beyond the reach of art : they were but too successful in its application. I was immediately confined as a close prisoner. My trial was ordered ; and as Manon was not forthcoming, I was accused of having murdered her from rage and jealousy. I naturally related all that had occurred. Synnelet, though bitterly grieved and dis- appointed by what he heard, had the generosity to solicit my par- don : he obtained it. I was so reduced, that they were obliged to carry me from the prison to my bed, and there I suffered for three long months un- der severe illness. My tranquility of mind being again restored, my cure speedily followed. I began only to feel the highest aspirations of honour, and diligently performed the duties of my appointment, whilst expecting the arrival of the vessels from France, which were al- ways due at this period of the year. I resolved to return to my native country, there to expiate the scandal of my former life by my future good conduct. Synnelet had the remains of my dear mistress removed into a more hallowed spot. It was six weeks after my recovery that, one day walking alone upon the banks of the river, I saw a vessel arrive, which some mer- cantile speculation had directed to New Orleans. I stood by whilst the passengers landed. Judge my surprise on recognizing Tiberge amongst those who proceeded towards the town. This ever- faithful friend knew me at a distance, in spite of the ravages which care and sorrow had worked upon my countenance. He told me that the sole object of his voyage had been to see me once more, and to induce me to return with him to France: that on receipt of the last letter wuich I had written to him from Havre, he Btarted for that place, and was himself the bearer of the suc- cour which I solicited ; that he had been sensibly affected on learning my departure, and that he would have instantly followed me, if there had been a vessel bound for the same destination ; that he had been for several months endeavouring to hear of one in the various sea- port towns, and that, having at length found one at St. Malo which was weighing anchor for Martinique, he emburked, in the expectation of easily passing from thence to New Orleans; that the St. Malo vessel having been captured by Spanish pirates and taken to one of their islands, he had contrived t. o escape; aud that, in short, after many adventures, he had got on board the vessel which had just arrived, and at length happily attained his object. I was totally unable adequately to express my feelings of grati- tude to this generous and nnshaken friend. I conducted him to my house, and placed all I possessed at his service. I related to him every circumstance that had occurred to me since I left France ; and iu order to gladden him with tidings which I knew he did not expect, I assured him that the seeds of virtue which he had in former days implanted in my heart, were now about to produce fruit, of whicti even he should be proud. He declared to me, that this gladdened announcement more than repaid him for all the fatigue and trouble he had endured. We passed two months together at New Orleans whilst waiting the departure o{ a vessel direct to France ; and having at length sailed, we landed only a fortnight since at Havre- de- Grace. On my arrival I wrote to my family. By a letter from my elder brother, I there learned my father's death, which, I dread to think, the disorders of my youth might have hastened. The wind being favourable for Calais, I emb irked tor this port, and am now guing to the house of one of my relations who lives a few miles off, where rny brother said that he should anxiously await my arrival. HINTS TO YOUNG MEN. As the fine weather is coming on, if you get leave of absense to go out of town, recollect a week means a fortnight, and that a fortnight is equal to a month, and two or three days over ! If any complaint is made, you have a capital excuse by declaring you were stopt by a revolution on the continent. Out with it boldly aud the chances are in your favor. \ Remember also to have the influenza on the Derby day, and as Easter is approaching, it will be just as well to have a grand- mother dangerously ill about that time. The young man who wishes ' to weed' his friends, will only select those who smokes the best cigars. A walking Btick has legs, but an umbrella has wings. By the bye, if you are wise, you will take care not to buy a silk umbrella, for it only flies all the quicker, The most certain mode of borrowing 51. is to ask for 10?. You had better not attempt to decipher any correspondence when you get home late after supper, for it is a grammatical truth that a person must master his liquids before he can go through his letters. ' Healths' are no longer the fashion; but a medical man should particularly refrain from proposing a person's health, for he is sure to to ba suspectsd of wishing him ill. When a cabman says ' whatever you please, sir,' you may be sure it is not more than an eightpenny fare. Politeness is like an air- cushion, there may be nothing solid in it but it eases jolts wonderfully. There is no community all rogues, any more than a currency all bad money. To have any chance of passing, both must be sparingly mixed with the genuine article. AN ANSWER IS EXPECTED. Did you ever put on a clean shirt that had not a button off? 4 T H E TOWN. THE OPENING OF THE OPERA SEASON A PEEP IN THE GREEN ROOM. ( See Engraving.) With tbe opera- season, which has just commenced, that of the world of the fashion is said to begin, for though the Theatres of St. Stephen's— better known, perhaps, as the Houses of Lords and Commons— are opened first, the families of the aristocracy are seldom in town before this time. However, the opera grows every year, less exclusively a class amusement, and thanks to the liberal and progressive spirit of the age, the rich and the great no longer enjoy the monoply of good music. We have entered so recently into topics connected with this subject, that we have only now to add our best wishes for the success of both Her Majesty's Theatre, and the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden. A VOICE FROM THE GENTS. A COLUMN FOR EVERYBODY. When a young tradesman, in Holland or Germany goes court- ing, the first question the young woman asks of him is,' Are you able to pay the charges?' that is to say in English,' Are you able to keep a wife when you have got her ?' What a world of misery it would prevent, if the young women in all countries would stick to the wisdom of that question ! ' Marriage is not made of mush- rooms, but of good round cakes,' is one of the pithy sayings by which our ancestors conveyed the same great rule of prudence. King George the Third one day walking up the street at Chel- tenham, the common crier ( then a woman), concluded a public notice by exclaiming ' God save the King.' The old boy showed to advantage, as lifting his hat, he turned and replied,' God save the crier and the people.' EXTRAORDINARY FEAT. A friend of our's has in his possession, a bill which has been running now for the last three months. He has now backed it to run against any bill in the kingdom, carrying the same number of pounds, for any time and for any amount of odds. He is in hopes that his bill will run in time beyond the statute of limitations. VIEWS OH LIFE BY A CLOWN. Life is a pantomime. The introduction to it is Fairy Land. With the transformation from child to man come the tricks of the world— its hard knocks and buffets. When taking the leap through the wedding ring, how seldom do we ascertain that the blanket of wedded existence is held tight to receive us on the other side! QUITE THE CONTRARY. You can hear of a man being ' in advance of his age,' but you never heard of a woman being in the same predicament. A CURB FOR COLD MEAT. Take an author home to dinner with you every day. We regret to hear that Her Majesty has been lately suffering from indisposition ; but we are rejoiced to be enabled to state also, that Bhe is now much better. As an increase is expected shortly in the Royal Family, it is only proper that the good Queen Vic. should be getting round again. A friend of our's says, if he should ever lose his better half, and then wish to fall into a blissful trance for the rest of his days, he must never be re- wived! We must cut the boy after this. THE MISERIES OF A BACHELOR. ' What have you got for dinner, waiter ?' ' A nice chop and steak, sir!' ' Well, bring me a chop and a steak. Yesterday I had a steak and a chop. Anything for a change.' CURE FOR CHILBLAINS. A good remedy for chilblains is a compound of the hop and the caper. The best form of this specific is the Polka. A POLICEMAN'S BEAT. From the kitchen into the larder, from the larder into the cel- lar, and from the cellar into the kitchen, back again. CLOSE ANALOGY. It is a fact in natural history, that when the butcher- bird has secured a victim, it fixes the creature to a thorn, and then tears it to pieces with its bill. What a picture of attorney and client! KITCHEN MEASURES. THREE old hats make— one geranium. Two pairs of trowsers make— one goldfinch. Three dress coats make— one set of basins. Six double waistcoats make— one single pink. Eight suppers make— one policeman's respect. Three months wages make— one policeman's love. Four pounds of candles make— one pound of kitchen stuff. Two sundays at chapel make— one new sweetheart. Three followers make— one cousin. OLD FELLOW, I read you generally with pleasure because I think you a brick, I'm sorry to find in a late number you've been attacking our order. Why couldn't you have left us alone ?— you have plenty of higher game to fly at— we don't deserve it. Just you give me space for a word or two in reply. We have all the inclination to be gentlemen in the received acceptation of the thing, but we hav'nt the means, and failing the attainment of the great eminenee, we are obliged to rest on the shelving ledge half- way. We are forced by the world to wear the appearance and manners of one class because we can't afford to indulge in the greater lux- uries of the other— then, don't let the world turn up its little hum- bugging nose at us for what we can't help. I'd like to go to a west- end tailor and have my togs cut in a proper style of gentlemanly slouch— oh 1 hang it I do know what's what— but I can't, and honestly pay the exorbitant Schneider, so gent, as I am, I act on my conscience, go my own way, and buy at the ready- money ticketed shops in Holborn, the Strand, or City. We don't say they aint the dearest in the end— we know all about that — but if a chap has only seven- and- sixpenee and wants a pair of boots, why instead of buying for three times the money something that will last him three months, he is obliged to dub up his tin for a Northampton swindle he can kick out in as many weeks. I patronise Albert's myself, but I'm not such a fool but what I like Wellington's better. So with tailor's things, I would no; wear that grey pea- jacket, of workhouse looking stuff, if I could stand the regular go; those long waistcoats with red glass buttons aint our choice; but at a slap- bang shop you can't help yourself to the joint; if you don't choose to take what they like, you must go without, or go to a higher- prized place. Then again, my Nibbs, perhaps if you had only a four- shilling bed- room in a narrow street, with no one to come and see you— not knowing the meaning of comfort any more than a Frenchman— never seeing within doors a better specimen of the fair sex than Sarah Ann, the red- haired girl that does the errands and always has chilblains on her fingers up to Easter, and the vinegar landlady who wears black- worsted stockings with holes in the heels of them, never cleans her teeth, and never could have been a blushing bride, whatever, Jubber, the fiat- nosed Cobbler, may say to the contrary— I say, if you were like this, you would like to pay half- price at the pit of the Adelphi too— to look at Sally Woolgar— bless her heart! and laugh at Wright and Paul Bedford! Is it any wonder that we should like our chops and kidneys at a tavern after the play, when we can have them in such perfection, and with such civility, and warmth and glow and comfort round us, while every blessed waiter looks made expressly for our service, and said so on his napkin! Blow it! when I'm at these places and see the jolliness that comes in at twelve o'clock to make a night of it, I can't help com- paring them with that hole of mine, the four- bob dormitory— a sort ot back dust- bin up a ladder— within a short sniff of the small- pox hospital, up against the gas works, and immediately over- looking a highly respectable plethoric metropolitan burial ground. Of course we're set down as a lazy set of snobbish fellows, because we sometimes smoke cigars, by daylight in the street, and all that, but look here— if a chap has nothing to do, how is he to employ his time ? Better smoke cigars than do worse. I would do anything, but you see everything depends upon bringing up— now my governor was an eminent soap- boiler, and never brought me up to an) thing in particular, and left no tin be- hind him when he died. I don't know what to turn to, only I find for everything I apply for, there are at least three qualified chaps fighting for the same. Say in your next what you think would suit me. You're rather a sharp fellow in your way— let's have an idea. Be brave, but generous, never tread on the weak. We didn't mind Albert Smith, but don't you go on. Be a brick, and insert this from one of the reviled. A GENT. jEoticess to © omapottKents. SIMPLE WATER FILTER. Put into an earthern vessel, such as those which are used by sugar bakers to form the loaves in, with a small hole at the poin- ted end some pieces of Turkey sponge, and on them a sufficient quantity of SMALL CLEAN pebbles, to a quarter fill the vessel. Suspend this filter, the end downwards in a barrel with the head out leaving about two or three inches space between the end of the'filter and the bottom of the barrel. The upper part of the filter must be kept a little above the top of the barrel, which should be always full of water. It is obvious that the sediment of the water will remain at the bottom of the barrel, and the PURE water will ascend through the sponge and pebbles, to the unoccu- pied portion of the filter. It might be suspended in a cistern or water- butt, if more conveniens. The pebbles and sponge should be cleaned occasionally. HOW TO CALCULATE INTEREST. Or A BOOK.— By the reader keeping awake over it. OP A STORY.— By the listener not yawning over it OF A PLAY.— By taking the average of coughs in each scene. R. R. ( Norwich)— It is our intention to do so almost immediately. We pur- I pose a series of articles in the spirit of a PUBLIC CENSOR, on ' The tricks of our times.' M. A. B.— We think it very likely that Mr. Davy Jones was a Welchman; but ,[ we haven't an idea where his locker was. CHILLOFF.— True enough no doubt, and well written, but too much anevery- I day tale in its present form. We will serve it up for you with pepper and j spice in our next. Glad to hear from you at any time. MARY ( Manchester).— Yes, you romantic little duck, THE CHARMED LIFE ; is an original story, and written expressly and alone, for our columns. WE are always happy to receive Literary ORE from the CRUCIBLE. F. D. S.— Not quite up to the standard, we have resolved upon for the future. We glory in a witty DOUBLE ENTENDRE, but an article dependent on its CERULEAN tint alone, is as Pope says, 1 all leather and prunella.' Write again; there is good stuff in you. ONE OF THE RIGHT SORT.— Go on, and prosper. AK OLD SUBSCRIBER ( Birmingham).— No, the Hon. and Rev. Baptist Noel never DID edit THE TOWN ; neither are we in any way to related to the family of the Duke of Bedford. BROADWAY ( Westminster).— Will see of what we have availed ourselves, but particularizing houses is a system we condemn. It does no good, savours of puffing, makes enemies, and is only understood in the locality. We wish rather our pleasant sheet of print to be all things for all men, in all places and through all time. T. L.— Did you ever hear the following couplet, by Roscommon ? ' Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense.' BEATRICE.—' The Secrets of Married Happiness' will give the fullest reply to your query, which your good sense will tell you, cannot be properly an. swerad here, Perhaps you had better write to Professor Chambers. THE DASHER.— The lines, lady fair, run thus:— ' Your mother says, my little Venus, There's something not correct between us, That you're in fault as well as I: Now don't you think, my little Venus, It would be very wrong between us To let your mother tell a lie 1' X. Y. ( Reading)— Certainly as the proverb goes ' manners makes the man, ' but in too many instances for ' manners', read ' manors.' NEMO.— We will not lend ourselves to personal abuse. It is beneath tbe journalist. You may call it ' a pleasant reflection,' but we differ with you. Our notion of that same, as the ' boys' say, is the reflection of a good fire on a cold night. LEX.— Leave it alone— oh 1 law. M. O.— Certainly' there cannot be a doubt of it. The banks of the Thames constitute one of the first Saving's Banks of the Metropolis, if we may judge from the accumulation of filth there. AN ENQUIRER ( Bermondsey).— Of course there is a difference between a ' great' and a ' capital' letter. We call, for instance, a ' capital' letter, one that announces the death of some rich, but hitherto unknown, relative, and the bequest of a handsome legacy. ( Other communications next week.) THE COTTAGE GIRL, VOL. 2, JUST OUT. VOL. 1 RE- PRINTING, IS. each. Sold at all Booksellers, Railway Stations, & c. TO COUNTRY BOOKSELLERS & NEWS- AGENTS. THE TRADE are requested, should they And any difficulty in obtaining THE TOWN from their regular agent, to send their orders direct. W. W. begs to inform the trade, that he can serve them at the lowest price with all the weekly and monthly periodicals, magazines, and newspapers, he making it his endeavour to deserve their support by his promptness and dispatch in collecting and forwarding their orders entire, even to the smallest articles. Cash in advance for the first two months. W. WINN, 34, Holywell- street, Strand, London. PROFESSOR CHAMBERS'S THREE SECRETS.— SECRETS OF MARRIED HAPPINESS; addressed to the Barren, the Potent, and the Impotent. A Medico- Philosophical work. Post free, Is.— 1 The youthful and the aged, the married and the single, should alike consult it.'— The Argus. SECRETS FOR YOUNG MEN, MARRIED MEN, AND SINGLE MEN; giving them a description, by which certain diseases may be cured without medical aid. Post free, 8d. " This is a useful little work, and should be read by every Englishman." ' Old Bell's Weekly Messenger." SECRETS OF HEALTH IN MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN; ad- dressed to all who would escape the diseases and epidemics peculiar to Great Britain, and attain robust maturity and hale old age. Post free, 8d.— * This is certainly a work of first- rate talent; the best on the subject.— Penny Punch. THE PROFESSOR'S RECIPES and REMEDIES.— Thefollowingpieces of valuable information will be forwarded on the receipt of postage stamps for each Secret to the amount named—- THE TOWN TONIC; or, Next Day's Restorative ; the only escape from LIQUID HAIR DYE. To aid the appearance of youth, and remedy the defects of age. Price 2s. 6d. INSTANT CURE FOR THE TOOTH ACHE; a Drop of Mercy for the Miserable. Price Is. THE CORN AND BUNION ERADICATOR; a Friend at a Pinch. Price Is. Stamps taken as Cash. Catalogues sent per post, on receipt of two stamps. T. Hicks, 34, Holywell- street, Strand. T, H. will not be responsible for any Works directed to be sentto PostOffice Printed and published by W. WINN, 84, Holywell- sireet, Strand, where all communications are to be addressed Sold at all Booksellers, Railway Stations, and Steam Boat Piers. [ ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL.]