Price Id.— Per Post 2d. The Second Quarterly Part will be issued at the publication of No. 26. Part I. now ) ready. Each Part to contain 13 Nos. in a Wrapper, for Is. Post free, Is. 6d. ) PUBLISHED tHE COOK'S ACCIDENT, TALES OF LONDON LIFE. MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OR, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. CHAPTER XV. THE SEDUCER AND HIS - VICTIM. The policcman hastened to the call of tho butcher, and in a few moments a crowd had gathered round Varden, and the female he bad named, Sarah Morton. " What's up now, Sally," said the policeman, throwing up the light of his bull's- eye lanthorn full upon her features; " going to have a fit again ?" " I beg your pardon, sir," said the butchcr, turning to Vnrden, who stood with his arms folded watching the proceedings. " I beg your pardon; I hope I did not offend you with my observa- tion just now. I did'nt know it was mad Sarah ; she'll be all right presently ; she's often like this.'' " You know her, then?" inquired Varden, in his calm way. " Oh yes," answered the man, " we all know her about here ; they say'she has been a lady once.'' " Come," « aid the policeman, kicking the prostrate female with his foot, " we musnt't have any of these fainting tricks; come, get up, do you hear, Sally. Get up, or if Roberts comes round he'll take you down, and then you are safe for seven days; and, perhaps, after all, that's the best place for her." One or two persons in the crowd here endeavoured to raise the woman, but it was evident she was too insensible. " She can't stand," said a young lady in a low- necked frock and faded volvet bonnet and feathers, " I think she's very ill." " Has she been lapping ( drinking) much?" inquired a coster- monger- looking individual. " Poor girl," said the low- necked frock, " she's very harrl- up. JuBt let me see if I can do anything with her. Sally, Sally," she continued, patting her on the cheek, " get up, there's a good girl; come, have a drop of rum." " Here, get out of the way," said the policeman roughly, " I've had enough of this nonsense— I'll soon have her up," and he ac- companied his words by seizing the unfortunate creature's wrist, and then twisting it round with a violence that rendered it pro- bable some of the bones would snap ; the poor girl uttered a low groan, but beyond that circumstance save no sign of animation. " Will you get up?" continued the brutal official ( of which, alas ! for these unfortunate crcatures, there are too many in the metro- polis); " will you get up I say? or I'll shake some life into you;" and he proceeded to adminstcr a tolerable good shaking to the insensible female. " Don't hurt the poor gal," said a bystander. " Who's hurting her," grumbled the policeman; " I wonder how you'd like to have your rest broken, after being on your feet eight or nine hours, to attend at the office for a drunken thing like this." " I don't think she is drunk," suggested the low- necked frock, meekly. " I dare say you know a deal about it, madam," said the po- liceman. " We know all about you, at any rate, so you can hold your chatter." " Well, I only spoke. I knows she's been very ill, and '' " I want none of your gab," said the policeman, very fiercely, " so move on; move on, all of you,'' and he commenced pushing the people about indiscriminately. " Don't push me," said a respectably- dressed man who had just come up, " you'd better look after the poor woman." " Don't you interfere with me in my duty," replied the police- man, in aD, if possible, fiercer tone—" don't you interfere with me, mind that, or it ' 11 be worse for you." " Who's interfering with you, spooney," said the costermonger ; " you want a job, don't you ?" The policeman now drew his truncheon, and, as the affair was getting serious, Varden stepped up, and observed, " I think I can settle this matter. I know this female; let some one fetch a cab, and I'll see to her." This speech drew from the bystanders a shout of " Bravo," followed by observations to the effect that he was " a good fel- low," in which the female portion of the crowd were most con spicuous. Varden had been induced to take this step in conse- quence of the unfortunate woman having somewhat recovered, and upon looking round, her first inquiry was for him. In a few moments a cab was procured, and Sarah lifted in. " Where shall I drive to ?" said the cabman. " Where does she live ?" inquired Varden of the female in tie low - necked frock. " I know where she did live," answered the girl, " but they turned her out on Saturday, because she did not pay her r- nt." " Is it far ?" " No ; just handy here, in Rose- street; shall I ge with you, and show you ?" " Do so," said Varden, as he mounted the box- seat; " and now, cabman," he continued, after the latter had shut the two^ females inside, " be quick, for I have but a few minutes to spare." The cab proceeded at a rapid pace, and in a few minutes reached a low, dirty archway in Long- acre, in fror. t. of which they stopped. Sarah was then lifted out, and led by tie cabman and the low- necked frock through some narrov alleys to the court, where the female knocked at a door, and declared this was the house. Varden had followed slowly behind, but reached the door just THE TOWN. as it was opened by a dirty- looking girl, with a red head of hair, who, the moment she saw who the visitors were, shouted at the top of her voice— " Missus, missus, come down stairs; here's Sarah come home again drunk. You musn't come in," she added, trying to shut the door. " Your room's let to little Soph, and she's coming in to- morrow." " It's all right," said the cabman ; " tell dirty Mother Lyons here's a gentleman here'll square the reckoning— that's correct, isn't it, governor !" This query was put to V& rden, who nodded assent. The next moment a very obese- looking woman, in a black gown, and a face to match, made her appearance at the door, and in a sharp tone, exclaimed— " Now, Sarah, it's no use your coming here— you owe me month's rent as it is; if you're not off, I'll call a policeman and " Her speech was cut short by the girl just alluded to, pulling her by the gown, and whispering something in her ear, at the same moment she observed Yarden—" Not but what if you're ill, yon can come inside and sir, dowu ; I never was hard- hearted to any one; as Susan knows, it's not my nature." This observation was addressed to the lady in the low- necked frock, and Susan gave a questionable sort of assent, by slightly bending. " Let's come inside, then," said Varden, " at once for I am in huste. I will pay whatever demand you have." " Oh, certainly, sir,'' answered the woman, " I'm sure I'm always glad to see Sarah, or any of her friends, and we should never bave parted but, my husband is so partii ,: , r, and we have been so served out by lodgers; however, you can ha\ e a room in a minute." Here she paused to give some directions to the girl, who instantly darted up stairs. " Come in here, sir. Good G— d, Sally, how bad you look; whv, whatever have you been doing, child ?" During all this time Sarah Morton had not spoken; she was led into the room, and placed upon a chair. Looking wildly round her, she observed Varden standing in a corner of* tho room setting with the landlady. " Varden," she exclaimed, '• Varden, I wish to speak to you for a few moments ; I may never see you again, for I feel that I am dying." " Dying; pooh, nonsense," said Mother Lyons, " have a drop of gin, child, you'll be better presently." Sarah, however, beckoned her away, and refused the proffered spirits. " I'll take a small drop, Mrs. Lyons, if you've no objection said the lady in the frock, called Susan. " Certainly, my dear," answered Mrs. Lyons, pouring her out a glass. " Now, Polly," she continued, turning to the litile slavey who had justentered, " is the room, ready ?" The girl answered in the affirmative, and Susan and Varden assisted Sarah up stairs, into an apartment on the first floor. " You can wait for me," said Varden to the cabman, " and if you will get the landlady to send for a shilling's worth of brandy Susan, I shall be obliged." Susan toe k the coin, and Varden closing the door, he, for the first time, was alone with Sarah. She bad seated herself upon the bed, her head buried in her hands, and Varden stood for few moments gazing upon her. " Sarah Morton," said Varden, breaking the silence, " and is it thus we meet— what can have happened to have so changed you ?' " Reproach me not, Varden," answered the woman, raising her- self with difficulty from the bed, " my punishment, though severe is a just one." " How long have you been thus?" inquired Varden, pointing to the filthy rags which covered her person; ™ years have made a greut change in you." " It is retribution," responded Sarah. " I- have deserved it all— once having fallen, I endeavoured to bring all to my own evil level— and, alas! how many have I brought to infamy and shame; it is the thought of that has seared my. brain, and caused the rabble to call me mad." " You do not answer my question," continued Varden. " I scarce knew you, so ohanged— changed in forth as in circum- stances. What, I say, has occasioned this ? Had you no friends?" " Alas! tew friends are there for her who has strayed, from virtue's path— at first, there were thoughts crossed rue of return- ing to my home, of asking forgiveness of my friends for the dis- honour I had cast upon their name— but then, the disgrace of meeting again with those who had known me ere I had fallen— to have, perhaps, the finger of scorn pointed at me, and hear the scoffing observation of those who, if opportunity had offered, would have done the same, was mure than I could bear. Oh, Varden, Varden, we: have much to answer for— would that we had never met." " This is no time for useless regret," said Varden ; " I did not come here to moralise, but to serve you— perhaps we cau assist each other; at least, I can help you from your present position." Sarah smiled, with a look of peculiar bitterness, and muttered, " You serve m— what would you have me do ?" " Where is Mrs. Saunders ?' inquired Varden. " Ah!" exclaimed Sarah, wildly, " it is with her you would have me serve you ? is it through tier means that I am to be re- lieved from my present misery? Never, never, never." " What mean you?" " Name lier not," shrieked Sarah, " breathe not her wretched name. My child! my child! Oh! why, why, have you come here to wake up recollections that drive me, indeed, mad ? rather let me perish in my misery and wretchedness? Varden gazed upon her with astonishment; even he was moved, and with something almost amounting to a tremulousness in hiB tone, he advanced towards her. " Approach me not," she continued; " you who have been my ruin, my curse; who has made the mice proud Sarah Morton a houseless vagrant— a pauper's pity. " You mentioned," said Varden, apparently not heeding her manner, " your— that is— our child— where is it'.'" " And can yon ask that question ?— you who left its mother to perish in the streets ?" " Where is the child?" said Varden, in an altered tone. " Listen," answerer! Sarah ; listen, and wonder not that the blight of madness has come upon me. It is now nearly thirteen years since we parted at the house in Devonshire- street, where you had taken me from a happy home. Little, little did I then dream of the misery that awaited me; you had promised to return in a few days after your business nad been settled at Rodwell- hall; how anxiously did I count the hours, bow painfully note \ the days as they passed away, aud 1 found you did not return Nyeeka— months passed away, and my letters were unanswered still you came not. The day drew near for my confinement my little stock of money was nearly exhausted; one by one did part, with each little article of value, till on the morning of the day that, I had parted with my mother's brooch, I was delivered of a boy. How shall I describe my joy, when, gazing upon my infant's features, I though I could trace even there a likeness to its father, and as it smiled upon me, seemed to tell of day of happiness. It was 011 the fourth day after my confine ment, Mrs. Saunders had call upon me, and left me a trifle of money to obtain a few necessaries, and told me she had heard from Manchester, and believed you had left this country for Italy, with your father." " Did she say my father?" interrupted Varden, suddenly. " She o'. d; for I well remember she added, that that was secret which she dared not reveal. However, it was a cold, cheer less afternoon, I was alone, for although poverty often finds friends and pity amongst its fellows, even where relief cannot be given, my misery wa: of a class that found neither; the fire was nearly extinguished, aid I was wishiDg for the return of the old woman whom Mrs. Sai, nders had got to attend me, when there came a loud knock at he room door; my child was sleeping by my side, and fearful of awakening it, without raising myself in the bed, I desired the person to come in. Judge, then, of my surprise, when I beheld my landlady and two men enter my room ; it was the broker and his man. My landlady asked me if I was pre- pared to pay two months' rent. I told her I expected to hear from you. Alas! little hope had I of that. She told mc her's was no house for such as me, called me a name then new to me, but now common as my own, and added, unless I could pay her demand I must pack that night. Remonstrance was useless— in vain I pleaded my state— appealed to her feelings as a woman and a mother— told her it would kill my chilli. She jeeringly ob- served, there was a workhouse for me, my betters had gone there, and. as for my bastard, it would be a good job if the Lord would take it, as it would be one burthen less upon the parish ; finally, she left the room, desiring the broker to do his duty. I, however, found pity where I least expected it. The broker's man told me there was sufficient goods to pay the rent, and leave a balance, if I would sell all. I consented, and he then offered to make me comfortable for a few days at his own place, a poor humble, but clean lodging in the neighbourhood. The broker went through the usual forms, to all of which, of course, I was a stranger, and at the conclusion, placed in my hands three sovereigns and some silver. In the evening Mrs. Brand, that was the broker's man's wife, came, and, wrapped in blankets with my infant., I was con veved in a cab to their lodging in Baldwin's- garilens, Gray's Inn- lane. Years have passed away since then, and I have seen misery in every shape, but never shall I forget that night. Everything their little means would allow was done to make me comfortable; the three children slept in a cupboard on the landing, whilst their parents bed, with another pillow borrowed from the lodger in the first floor, tor rny head, was given up to me. Every one in the house seemed anxious to serve me, and " the poor sick lady," as I was called, and " her little baby," created quite a sen- sation in the street. It was the second day after I had been at the Brand's, a young Irish girl who lived in the kitchen, and sold fruit, had brought nie up a few oranges, when the room door opened, and, unannounced, Mrs. Saunders entered the room. Instantly she fixed her eyes upon the beautiful young girl, and with a strange glare, which even then I could not help remark- ing, she observed to her, " Don't leave, my dear child, don't leave, you are pretty enough to have a baby as ham. some as this lady's." I inwardly prayed she might be spared the trouble that hart attended the biith of mine. Poor Jane, it was not to be she was doomed to be another of those wretched victims. But I am going from the story. The girl did leave the room, and Mrs. Saunders then told me, she was not surprised at what had laken place, for I could not expect to live anywhere for nothing ; but, she added, " it happens fortunate, for I can take you to my place, as I have one plague off my hands now." I asked her to explain; when she said, " Margaret Dawksworth, the girl who was at the bonnet- shop, in Cranbourne- alley, has got married." " Can this be possible?" exclaimed Varden. " Yes," continued Sarah; " and I discovered that I had been turned so suddenly out of my lodgings to make room for the new married couple." " What was her name ?'' inquired Varden quickly. " My curses light upon her ; I shall never forget it." " Teii me her name," said Varden. " Mrs. Lorimer Hpinks," replied Sarah. [ To be continued.] HOW THEY DO THE SAILORS IN LONDON. PROFESSING as we do to depict " London Life" in all its varieties, like the bee plucking sweets from every flower, we must, of necessity wander into every locality; the following will, we thini, be1 found an exact illustration of life in the eastern part of London, a quarter teeming with sailors, crimps, prostitutes, beg- gars, bullies, thieves, aud fence keepers; the character of a bum- boat woman is now but very little known, still, however, occa- sionally it is to be found in the neighbourhood of Wapping and Limehouse, and the following will be found a true picture of what passes there nearly every day. At a short distance from a motley group of ragged, bloated, blear- eyed wretches, who filled a dirty seat before a dirty public house, in the vicinity of Wapping, stood a pair of shabby- genteel ! professionals, vulgarly yclept land- sharks— that is, crimps, whose adroitness at plundering sailors, is too well known to require de- monstrative lore at our hands. It was evident that the two worthies were in some way united, as they held a colloquy on some subject evidently important to themselves From the pot- house referred to, a fine view was ob- tained of the Thames, and the approach of the docks ; ever and anon the eyes of Messrs. Nailum and Haveum were turned towards the mart of wealth, as if expecting the appearance of some interesting object. Soon their greedy visions glistened with rapture. A rich laden vessel hove in sight, and Nailum exclaimed right joyfully— " I say, Haveum, my boy, here comes our floating bark, the ship Betsy, keep your eye up now or we shall lose some of our men, for yonder conies that spawn of ev. l Mother Barge, she and her ' younn' ladies,' did me out of some of my best customers last But I say," be continued, " you bit me scandalous last voyage, Mrs. Barge." " Why, I denies it; but. we must all do the best as we can for ourselves," rejoined the provident dame; " and, to say the truth, Mr. Nailuin, I don't think as how there's any barm in doing any- body fairly." " Fairly!" roared Nailum, with a horse- laugh. " Ah, ah, ah! well, I understand you— I am of your mind; howsomever, Ilikes all fair play among ourselves. I have got nine lodgers on board the Betsy, what I should like to have again." Fudge, Jem, fudge," interrupted Haveum. I know better— no gulling us." The sharp- featured Nailum would have assumed the air of offended dignity had he been able; he attempted, but did not succeed. His sheepish phiz proclaimed he had been detected ; he made a faint attempt to rally, by observing— " I suppose you want to cheat 11s now, don't you'.'" " When any codger," interrupted Haveum, with fire- eyed retort—• " Not so fast there ; you talk of cheating ; so his satanic ma- jesty has turned prude, has he? Who was it, tell us, if your memory don't fail, that put the conk- shells into the horses' nose- bags, and swore he lost them out of the cart, eh ? Just put that in your pipe, my fine fellow, and smoke it, as a specific for the cholic." And who," roared Nailum, without condescending to answer the trifling question, " who was it that drugged the men's drink, anil then robbed them, eh ? Can you inform us if the gentle- man's name began with a H., eh, Mr. Haveum ?" Mrs. Marge was wiser than lier fellows. She feared that their impolitic conduct would convey too much information to the bystanders, touching the secrets of their profession, and observed in soothing accents—• " Come, come; we all know sailors will drink, and we cannot help it ; indeed, our establishments demand they should take a leetle, aud if they do loose a trifle now and then we cannot be accountable. Let us to the bason, and secure our men, and then settle the matter over gin- hot: come, come." " That's a proper observation," observed Nailum ; " but I don't like to be done by Haveum— you know, Mrs. Barge." The lady waited not to the end of his brief reply, but with a quick step, moved off to supersede others of her trade. " Well," grumbled Haveum, " I have 110 wish to quarrel, only don't do us out of a chance with yourself." " What, me?" replied Nailum, sorely; " me? no, no, honour I bright is my motto, I wants nothing but what's fair and upright; not I." " Well, well," said Haveum, " let's follow Mother Barge, or she'll cheat the pair of us, and laugh at us into the bargain.'' By this time they had reached the bason, the ship was moored head and stern, and some of the sailors were moving over the gangway to the shore. " There are: some of my chaps coming," observed the quick- sighted Haveum, mending his space. " Tom Cable and Jack Marline are regular good uns, trumps every inch of them ; they drink merrily, and never trouble their heads about the reck'ning." In a few: minutes they were alongside of them, and, " Halloa, Jack!" W « s shouted familiarly by Haveum, " is that you ? wel- come hoqjjB, my hearty ; how are you, my boy ? glad to see you; shall drink your health in an extra glass of grog to- night." Jack eyed him with a true nautical twig, and, in a moment, took in the whole man, from the castor to the shoestring, and, in the genuine style of a British sailor, exclaimed— " What, my noble dogfish, are you there ? Snap my main- stay, but I thought you had gone out boom- passenger to Sydney, transported long ago." " Not so hard, my flower," simpered out the chop- fallen Crimp. " Let us have it more handsomely, Jack." " Handsomely !" roared out the tar—" handsomely, say you? umph, you two ends of a rascal ; did you not double me last voyage out of my rhino in a week, and then turned me adritt without a shot in the locker? Handsomely ! you swab." " Not so much of your dry chaff," added Haveum, " it voyage; if she succeeds may I be stumped. Good morning, gentlemen," said the balloon- bodied, bully- like, lo. lging- house keeper, as she approached them—" pray, is the ship up?" " Aye, there she comes," returned the delighted Nailum long looked tor here at last; I hope she'll pay us well for watch- ing so long." 1 That's all right," observed Mrs. Barge. " Come, we must have a thimbleful of stingo on the strength of it. Waiter/ houted the fat- sided beldame—" tip us half pint of gin; none of your skim- milk, or sky- blue, now, d'ye hear ?" " Why, bless your soul, inarm, does you doubts me, eh ?" asked a ragged dirty fellow. " We knows who is who, and always sarves good, and well depend upon tha', marm. The prospect of a rich harvest set. the intolerable tongue of the lady in motion to such an extent, that it seemed her voluble powers Wi re propelled to action by steam of high pressure. " I have a couple of pocket pistols well charged with Old Tom," she obsei ved with a significant and well- understood wink a sup or tvyoof it will make our lodgers merry lads, I'll warrant you, and set them longing for more." How many lodgers," asked Nailum, " do you calculate upon?' How many ?" answered the beldame, " let me see," and she muttered some time to herself, counting her well- hooped fingers backwards and forwards—" fifteen and the earpeuter, and all good ' 1111-; I've a trip marked out for hi n to the coast of Africa." " So so," shouted Nailum; " you are the best provider of all my acquaintances. But suppose he won't, go, eh?" " How then— won't go?" half screamed the virago; " he shall go. Why, he wont have above fifty pounds to take, and that we'll sift in a fortnight, or less ; and wh ™ ri the last brown jingles, he'll go, and thank me to; never fear, I'll make that all right,.' " No one that knows you need doubt it," grumbled Haveum ; and how do you intend disposing of the men ? do you ship them for the South Seas?" " Ah, ah, ah; roared the crafty hag, " to be sure I do, or to some other snug quarter; I won't forget, them. But here's the creature; let's wet aud be off, or the men will land before we reach the basin ; and then, good bye to some. Your health, gentlemen," continued the well- instructed lady in the use of a glass. " Here's a toast— ' Here's to the tar that drinks away, And values not the score; But boldly pays the money down, Then gets to sea for more.'" Suiting the action to the word, she swallowed her portion rather a gorge diployee; and then handing a brimmer to Haveum, he gave, like a thorough bred professional, " Success to all our under- take- ins;" which Nailum responded to. " Here's wishing we may never be under- take- in ourselves. enough to choke a fellow; come, let us shove into the Fishing Smack, and wash it, down with a drop of old Jamaica." " Avast there, messmate," cried the inflexible tar ; " at your old tricks again ; want to sow me up, and then fleece me. It won't do, my old codger ; I'll have no more truck of you land- sharks ; boom off, my prince of thieves, before I open a broadside upon you." Nailum, seeing his fellow beaten, next came to the attack, and addressed the party indiscriminately. " Well, come along lads, I shall stand a bottle of mm, to drink healths at meeting." " We shall not drink if you do," replied Tom Cables; " we have hauled our wind, my worthy." Poor Nailum looked sheepish, and observed— " I see how it is, my fine fellows, that old hag, Mother Barge, has been cramming some of her sweet lies down your throats, and so has poisoned your minds against your best friends ; come, now, tell us what she said, and I'll stand a couple of bottles, and I don't mind bottles all round," " It won't do, Master Nailum," observed Tom, " No one has poisoned our minds— tho truth is, we intend to do what we never did, or will do, before a foe of old England at sea— cut and run from England's worst foes on land." " What do you mean, my dear Tom ?" asktil Nailum, with his eyes* wide open, as if he had swallowed a capstan bar, and was trying to digest; " did we not always give you the best our house afforded ?" " All adrift again," interrupted Jack Marline ; " we intend to out with you altogether ; can you box the compass now?" " We see how it is," answered the astonished crimp, " Mother Barge has cheated us,„ and would befool you with her fair pro- mises and fine misses." No such thing, my admiral of the bloody flag," rejoined Jack; you crimps have too long crimped us, but we have over- hauled your papers, and find you are pirates instead of friends ; ah ! you stare aud start, my swab, do you ? it is the truth of a British sailor 1" " Why, Jack," cried the astonished crimp, " you rnn 011 like a methodist parson, and shame your character as an English si a- man." " All aback again," replied Jack, coolly, " we did shame our characters as men as well as sailors, while in your clutches, but we intend now to redeem them." " Well, let's part friends, at least," said Haveum ; " let us once more have ' Begone dull care,' and drown sorrows in a stiff glass of grog." " Shove off 3 our boat," shouted Tom Cable, " we are not to be gulled in that way; Mr. Haveum, may I never step abaft the binnacle again if we don't sink your craft unless you sheer off, you piratical rascals ;" and he hitched up his trousers as he spoke, somewhat after the sort of T. P. Cooke, at the Surrey. The crimps perceived that their case grew desperate, and they determined to make one grand effort to support, their profession. " I say," cried Haveum, as he perceived the sailors were about to part, company with them, " Tom, Jack, my hearties, there's Flash Bet, and Black Jill, aud Nance Brighteye, at old Mother Flunkey's; they expect you, and are togged out in their best gear ; each of them looks as smart as a May- day queen. There will be a regular flare- up there to- night." " It won't do," rejoined Tom. ( To be continued). BEGGING IN LONDON.— The following circumstance really occurred in the neighbouibood of Holburn :— A professional beg- gar lad, aged ten or eleven years, haviug exhibited himself seve- ral days in succession with a board before him, imploring alms on the ground that he had been ' lett with a family,' it transpired that, unable to read, he had bought a wrong ticket. THE TOWN. U HUMBUG. The lover swears eternal truth Shall mark his conduct more or less ; The lady vows no other youth Shall storm her virtue with success. The candidate will pledge his soul Your wrongs and burthens he'll take part in ; But, ah! such vows, from poll to poll, Are all my eye and Betty Martin. The rogue that's whipt for petty theft, Will promise not to prig again ; Th' adulterer, who his wife has left, From fornication to refrain. The wretched convict to amend— As Sheppard did when Tyburn cart in— The Premier that he'll stand your friend— ' Tis all my eye and Betty Martin. In short, whatever vows are made, ^ By Pumps and Priests, both high and low ; By men of every class or grade, By which they aim their worth to show. Whatever pledges may be given, As Paddy's self would say ' tis sartin, ( Though bv them countless knaves have thriven,) "" t—'" II mv and Ret. t. v Martin ! They're all my eye LEATHER LANE. IT is not the dirtiest, nor the narrowest, nor the poorest, nor the wickedest lane in London. But though it, possesses none of those qualities in the superlative degree, it is neither a clean, a wide, a rich, nor an innocent lane. It drinks its gin, has its brawls and broken windows, and the greater part of its Sunday toggery, when it has any, is at mother's brother's. It, sells coffee at twopence a pint, and mixes it with more things than chicory. Its policemen believe every one who sets his foot in it with a good coat on his back, to be looking after something ; and every one with a bad coat, or no coat, to be the person they themselves have been long looking for. Aye, and they will swear the cha- racter of any man black and blue at any police- court, if they have seen him in this lane, and the magistrate will shake his his head, and convict and sentence him accordingly. By this it will be seen that the lane in question has not maintained the best character for itself; and yet, its most conspicuous crime seems to be poverty. True, it does a trifling business in the single- man lodger line; and prostituted writers would not, hesitate, were they well paid for the scandal, to denounce all these as prostituted women. The said lane may, on an occasion, have seen your pocket picked and protected the thief, and we believe it has more than once, broken a man's head with a brick- bat, from some of its upper windows, when he pursued a thief up the centre of its causeway— yet., notwithstanding all these things, it is an industrious, hard- working, world- struggling lane, not to be des- pised by those who would not despise the honest poor. CONFESSIONS OF A PICKPOCKET. CHAPTER II. MY FIRST IMPRISONMENT 4ND ITS CONSEQUENCES. TEETOTALISM. THIS game is now nearly up in Loudon, for to any man who has the faculty of thinking aright, it must appear perfectly obvious that one general universal rule is contended for as applicable to a thousand varied complexities of habit— an impudent fallacy. For any man in a rational condition to assert, that because malt liquor is bad for A, it cannot of necessity be good for B ; or that because brandy is killing C, it must, of necessity, be the death ol D; for any man, we say, to assert such a thing in physiology would of necessity, in the esteem of the wise, cause him to be put down as an arrogant, ignominious, and impudent pretender. The unutterable who thus legislate for the physical economy, would tell a man that he must abstain from gin- and- water, and that he must drink soda- water ; and if the man is fool enough to act up to the injunctions, the result is like to be, that the soda- water would kill him, and that the only thing to save him from death would be the gin- and- water. Again, these teetotalised philoso- phers in carrying out their nostrums of universal abstinence from various fermented and spiritous liquors, insist that a man should carry about with him an abdomen overcharged with ditch water, a belly full of exciseable trash called tea, or a victualling depart- ment bursting with an excess of ginger- beer; propelling the man to his grave by water— the victim of imposition, craft, and cant. It is egregiously cruel to insist upon a hard working- man or wo- man, swallowing a pint of miscellaneous water, bedevilled, per- chance, with innumerable monsters of the genus animalcule, in preference to the same measure of unadulterated malt liquor ; and it is equally flagitious to insist, upon an old man who has. keen temperate all his li'e- time in the indulgence of a glass of grog, taking with bis pipe u glass of New River, or East London water. What man has the stupid hardihood to assert that a fine, rich, generous glass of wine does any healthy person harm ; and, what other man has the besotted idiocy to contend, on the one hand that an individual may, when he is ill, resort to wine or to spirits • and on the other, that he may not, to avert that calamity. We are not disposed, at, the present time, to exhibit more fully the consummately false and ignorant arguments urged on behalf of the doctrines of teetotalism, aud shall content ourselves by ob- serving that such principles are an insult to common sense are opposed to all the dictates of reason, and are in contravention of the injunctions of holy writ; the man who has the hardihood to contend for universal abstinence in intoxicating drinks, brands the author of the Christian religion as a liar! Teetotalism is a peg for a lot of shoeless wanderers to hang a hat on; we are not prepared to say that all the advocates or lecturers on the doctrines are characterless imposters, but we are quite prepared to sav this that if better terms were offered them to commend porter and half- and- half, eulogise wine, and flatter spirits, they would turn their back upon water, and denounce ginger beer. PLUCK IN A CHURCH.— An amusing incident recently occur- red at the Old Church, Calcutta, during divine service. The night was a wet one, and there, was but a scanty congregation. Among those assembled, however, was a jolly tar, who, no doubt, either thought a church a very justifiable retreat from the rain, or intentionally went there to be benefited. While the Rev. Henry Thomas was preaching and expatiating on the duties of good soldiers, Jack listened attentively till the rev. gentleman had ended ; when starting up, and holding forth his hand in a de- preciating attitude, no doubt to arrest attention, he exclaimed, ' And what do you say for the sailors — do they not do their duty?' The blood rushed up in the preacher's face, the clerk nearly swooned with horror, the whole orchestra were in visible agitation, and it was feared the organist would not be able to play the voluntary after the service— the congregation stared— but Jack cared not for the whole of them— he took his hat, and walked out with an air of indignant defiance.— Many are the queer stories told of sailors; the above reminds us of the one related of Rowland Hill and the four sailors, who in the time of the war visited his chapel one Sunday night, and left the door open. ' Will you please to shut that door,' he said to the second, after the first had gone ont. and left it wide open. No attention being paid to his request, he called to the third on leaving, ' Shut that door,' but with the same result. As the fourth advanced to the door, he raised himself in the pulpit, and shouted, 1 Turn a stern, d u your eyes, ' and shut that door.' The sailor, without expressing the least astonishment, replied, ' Heigh, heigh, your hbnour,' and closed the door; proving the necessity of always speaking in a language that can be understood. Although but a brat, the observation of the turnkey perfectly stunned me. I looked at my respected parent as they took the rum from his abdominal arrangement, and he looked at me, and as I didn't feel I could well do anything else, I began to snivel. " It's no use ye'r blubbering," said the marshall ; " Mr. Wil- liams," he continued, turning to an excise officer, " I don't know how long this infamous traffic has been carried on; it's impossible to tell to what extent his Majesty has not only been defrauded, but, the rules and regulations of this establishment trampled on, and its officers set, at defiance. Let, therefore, these two indivi- duals, father and son, be forthwith carried before the magistrate." The reader may guess I was in a fearful fright; but, withal that I knew from my father that, unless they could produce the spirits, they could obtain 110 conviction. I gave the old man the wink ; he, as I afterwards learned, perfectly understood me. I accord- ingly threw myself with all my force upon the two bladders that had been taken from my trousers, and the next instant the gin was washing the stones of the lobby. My father was not, how- ever, so successful; his attempt to stamp upon the rum bladder being frustrated, by a terrier dog flying from beneath the huge leathren chair that stood in the passage, and pinning him by the leg. " You're a nice youth, I don't think," said the turnkey, ad- dressing me; " you ought to be ashamed of yourself." He added, speaking to my father. " You'll repent showing this boy such dodges one of these days." My father, I should have mentioned, had been drinking, and the spirits had not been so nicely slung round his body as they might have been; hence our detection. As he knew pretty well what would be his punishment, he determined to put a bold front on the matter and throwing himself into an attitude, he ex- claimed— " Let ' em do their spite— the earth hath bubbles aud these are of'em." This acting or bounce, call it which you will, was, however, of no use ; and by the instructions of the Marshall, we were taken before the sitting magistrate, at Union- hall, and by him sentenced to pay a penalty of ten pounds each, or one month's imprisonment in Horsemonger- lane goal. From compulsion, as an Irishman would say, we chose the latter; and off we went chained together like a pair of choice pointers, to abide our sentence. My mother, poor dear lady, was almost distracted at hearing of our dilemma; and, what was more, she was very nearly starved before we came out. After this lesson, my respectable male parent left oft the smug- gling business, and made application to the proprietors of the Surrey Theatre, for an engagement for himself and wife. This, after some delay was obtained, and the fortunate managers had the valuable services of my talented parents for the small sum of twenty- five shillings per week. I now come to an epoch in my life which decided the question as to my further profession and prospects. While in Horsemonger- lane goal, I became acquainted with a lad about 12 months older than myself called Charley Roberts. Charley had very much amused me with his stories, and the description of the sprees he had been in, and the life he saw. Yery often he would tell me that, he would'nt be tied up to an old man as I was, for five hundred a- year, and that I should turn out for myself. It was singular that my father, who knew, perfectly well, the character of this youth, should permit me to associate with him; but, although aware that Charley was in for three months, for cutting out a woman's pocket whilst witnessing a hanging match in the Old Bailey, yet he never interfered. The morning that we, that is my father and myself, were libe- rated from gaol, Charley made me promise that I would meet him when he was discharged. I kept, my word, and on the day that Charley Roberts was again permitted to be of society at large, I was waiting for him at the gate of the prison. * I'm glad you're come,' was his first observation upon recogniz- ing me—' we'll have a lark in Mint- street, to- night, and no mistake.' I was much astonished at these observations, although con- siderably doubled- up by his appearance. I was never over parti- cular as to my pals ; and their dress, or general style, was to me a matter of very little importance if they pleased me by their manners. Charley, however, was rather too much even for me. I had only seen him in the clean prison- dress, he now had on the wretched flash- cut ragged apparel that he had worn when com- mitted, and the high- low shoes, coarse corduroy trousers, closely cut crop and seedy tile, rendered him the very beau Ideal of a low London pickpocket ' Why, how you stares at a fellow,' he continued. ' I suppose my toggery ain't quite elegant enougb for you.' ' Why, I hardly knew you,' I rejoined, ' you look so dif- ferent.' ' Have you got any browns?' he continued, ' I am gasping for a drain of something.' I produced all I had, which was three- pence. ' That's just enough for a pint and a ha'porth of baccy,' was his reply ; ' come, let's melt it at once.' Charley accordingly led me into a little public- bouse which, prior to the days of the new police, was greatly patronized by the friends of those who had been unfortunate enough to get in- carcerated in the neighbouring goal. ' A pint of gatter,' said Charley, to an old man with a black eye, and a grizzly beard, who was officiating behind the bar; ' how did you get, that mouse ( eye), gov'nor ?' ' Last night a woman struck me with a jug because I wouldn't go and bail her boy out of the watch house. I gave her a mouth for it this morning.' ' Did you, though,' rejoined Charley, in a sympathising tone, ' serve her right,' " and then turning to me he whispered, ' he's a new ' un here— I'll have a lark with him; holloa', he exclaimed, ' here's a rummy go— there's a gal as I know well ' This last observation was directed to a young female who passed across the passage with a dish, upon which was a roast leg of mutton, and entered the kitchen. ' Here's your beer, young man ha'penny, if you please.' ' What, is it sixpence a pot?' friend;' well, there's another brown it.' In passing the money to the barman, Charley, for reasons which I will explain in a few minutes, had dexterously contrived to let the halfpenny fall inside the bar, and as the old man stooped to pick it up, Charley leaned slightly forward, made a strange movement with his hat, and then stepped from the front of the bar into the street. The whole was the work of less than an instant, and the old man having found the coin, was about to pass the beer to me, when Charley agarn- entered the house. ' Did you see my old woman?' he exolaamed; ' won't there be a row.' ' What about?' I inquired. ' You saw that gal go along into the kitchen just now ?' ' Yes.' ' Well, she's an old flame of mine. They do say she' in for it; and my Bet has heard about if, and she's as jealous as blazes.' I did not precisely understand what was meant by Charley's female friend being in for it; but I was not suffered to remain either in ignorance or contemplation, for Charley, having drank the beer, again commenced the conversation. ' You say you have got no browns, this' 11 never do, I can't go out to- day to get money; is'nt th^ re anything at home you can find belonging to the old man, that'll raise a few shillings? Yoh muSt'nt go home to my crib without paying your footing in the shape of some gin, to the old woman;— I would'nt ask, but you see how I am situated.' Charley was a thorough wide awake, artful old dodger; although unable to read or write his own name, there was not a move on the board that he was not, acquainted with. He could sing a flash song, play at skittles, and gaff - with success the most fly pie- men in the metropolis— a highly favourite amusement with young thieves some years since. ' What shall I do?' I inquired. ' Do!' he answered; ' go home and see if you cun't find some- thing laying about, I tell you; an old waistcoat that's no use but to lumber ( pawn) for three or four bob; or a shawl that tho old woman has nearly worn out, and might be bought for a crown.' I couldn't help laughing at the manner of Charley. I had made up my mind to have something from my father, for recently he had used me very badly, keeping me without food, not, striving to get me a situation, and allowing me to wander about the streets all hours of the day and night. He had first led me into, posi- tive taught me, unlawful habit?, and now deserted me. I there- fore felt no compunctions of conscience in taking from my parents. Charley appeared to read my thoughts, for he answered— ' You are anything but comfortable at home, Frank ; if I were you I should cut it altogether.' Before I could answer him, however, the young girl to whom he had before alluded again crossed the bar. ' She's gone into the kitchen again,' he exclaimed; ' follow her, Frank, and tell her I want to speak to her ; they don't know you, and won't suspect anything.' I followed the young woman to the door, and there witnessed, not only a very curious scene, but overheard an equally amusing conversation. Seated in a high- backed arm chair was an elderly female, to whom the young girl was bringing the leg of mutton. She had been unwell, or, at least, so I guessed, from the carpet shoes in which her feet were encased. ' Bless ine, Kate!' she exclaimed, ' your mutton's done to death. Who's been touching it, ?' ( See cut.) ' No one,' answered Kate. ' I should like to catch any Jone interfering with my meat.' ' Why, it's as black as a coal,' continued the old lady, examin- ing the leg closer; ' the mutton's spoiled.' ' I'm very sorry,' said Kate, holding down her head; ' it's all Tom the potman's fault.' ' What! he's been at, it, has he?' said the old woman, rather tartly. ' He said he'd like a sop in the pan,' replied Kate,' and I didn't think there'd be any harm.' ' Ah!' said the old woman, shaking her head, ' many's the good leg of mutton that's been spoiled through those sops in the pan.' I could not hear the answer, for at that moment I saw a man coming down the passage; so, without delivering Charley's mes- sage, I rushed out at the back- door and home to commit my first robbery, of which I will give the particulars in the next, chapter. ( To be continued.) CUTTINGS FOR COUNTRY COUSINS. said the barman, ' another inquired my innocent young - God bless me, I've dropped Woman is not undeveloped man, But diverse— could we make her as the man, Sweet love were slain, whose dearest bond is this— Not like to like, but like in difference : Yet, in the longer years, liker must they grow, The man be more of woman, she of man ; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world ; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward ease, More, as the double- natured poet, each, Till, at the last, she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words. FASHION, it is well known, exercises a vast deal of influence on human affairs. Whatever she touches with her magic wand be- comes refined aud desirable. Even physic is rendered palatable and sickness interesting. In proof of this, a druggist is now ad- vertising that he has supplied himself with a large and general assortment of all the fashionable medicines. PLEASANT INTERRUPTIONS.— While a railway train was pro- ceeding to Perth the other day, a person was seen on the line making the usual signal to stop, which was instantly obeyed by the engine- driver. On being eagerly asked what was the matter, he coolly replied—" Oh, nothing ; 1 merely wanted a lift into the town." [ This reminds one of the man who stopped the mail when going down hill to tell the driver thatone of the wheels had stuck fast. The drag was on.] WHAT I HATE, I hate the toothache, when with maId'ning jumps, Like torrent wild, it runs along the stumps; I hate the whole dire catalogue of aches, Distempers, fevers hot, and ague shakes. I hate mad dogs, snakes, dandies, fleas, and bugs, Tea parties, wild cats, toads, and whisky jugs, Hard times, bad roads, stale fish, and broken banks, Stale news, cold soup, light purse, and lawyers' thanks. I hate long stories, and short ears of corn, A costly farm- house, and a shabby barn; More curs than pigs, no books, but many guns, Sore toes, tight shoes, old debts, and paper duns. I hate tight lacing and loose conversation, Abundant gab, and little information ; The fool who sings in bod, and snores in meeting, Who laughs while talking, and talks while eating. VERY young ladies are seldom very fond of very young men— a magnified boy, who is just casting his liobbedehoy skin, has few attractions in the esteem of t> Miss in her teens ; the object does not amount to the standard of manhood ; consequently, to make certain doubly sure, an interesting creature at any time would rather elope with a la, rg. e, man about forty, than experimentalize on a more juvenile, persou. AN English ' gent,' of the true cockney breed, who had no idea of a salt water river, fell overboard the other day, says the ' N. Y. Telegraph,' while going to Albany m a first- class steamer. On being picked up, he blew the salt water out of his mouth, and exclaimed, with a stare of wonder—' My stars, I tlfrHight I was on the ' udson, but I find I'm in the hocean.' REASONING FROM PREMISES.— A gentleman telling a com pany a very long and tedious story, was interrupted by the ob- servation that he could not have hiard the wholeof theincidents. ' Oh yes,' he replied, ' every word of them.' ' There must be some mistake,' rejoined the sceptic; ' the story may be good, but you can never have heard the END of it.' A GENEROUS mind does not feel as belonging to itself alone, but. to th. e whole human race. We are born to senve our fellow- creatures, It ift a difficult matter, nevertheless, to impress some people— by far the greatest number— with this important truth; nine out of ten acting as though they were born to serve them- selves. Come hither and give me moist kisses, Dear girl, such as none ever gave ; What ! would'st thou, then, number my blisses, And ask me how many I'll have ? As well might you have me tell over The waves, when in ocean they roar; Or the shells that are scattered, and cover The sands ou the surge- beaten shore. ' I NOT only dislike a paper which never puts forth an opinion Save to excite discontent and hatred of our fellow men ; but en- tirely object to that one which, when discontent is engendered by it as regards the affairs of this world, labours hard to destroy our hopes of happiness in the next.'— D'ISRAELI. 4 THE TOWN. 3 Now Publishing, No. 4 of THE PENNY PUNCH, A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK. Illustrated by the first Artists of the day. " YOUNG PUNCH," having established his Title with his Father's con- nexion, begs to say his Stock will be found composed of first- rate Articles, warranted of the most Superior Quality ; and, as Peter Pindar said of the razors—" Certain to beep you from crying, if you can only keep yourself from laughing." Those who relish true Wit and Whim, Fun and Facetiae, intermingled with delightful Tales, to please and instruct the mind, wiil buy the " PENNY PUNCH." CONTENTS. The Plague of Rome— Invasion of the Frog Nation, with Illustration— Ad- vertising Extraordinary— The Spectre Horse; or, the Conversion of Jacques Periton, the Montpelliard— Attack on the House of Lords; Rothschild the Engine of War in the hands of the people, with Illustration— Aunt Dolly's Scoldings— Letters from a Literary Levanter— Fashions for July : Drawn Bonners all the Rage— Godfrey Page : The Coffee- shop— Dissolving Views : the Misfortune of being Fortunate— A variety of Original Humorous Jokes. PRICE ONE PENNY. By Post,' 2s. 8d. per Quarter. Published by " W. WINN, 84, Holywetl- street, Strand, and may be had of all Booksellers. NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. " Why Don't You Get Married," will be continued in our next. H. G. IE, ( Liverpool).— No. The lines upon " The City Election," are too political for our columns ; it is a subject we never interfere with. RICHARD LE SUTON, ( Manchester).— We are obliged for your kind offer. TIM SHARP, ( Devonport).— Received. Why not write on one side? M. R. II U.— An article on London Procuresses in our next. P. G., ( Limehouse).— A correspondent has sent us a very differ- ent account. MUFTY, ( Little Chelsea).— Purchase the thirteen numbers of the TOWN, and you will find the tales read on. VIDO, ( Bath).— S , ( Liverpool).— P. M. Z., ( Chancery Lane).— Not at present. Other correspondents in our next. " The Agent," " Pickles Mixed," and " A Story with a Moral,' positively in our next. MEMOIR OF A FRENCH LADY OF FASHION. This gaioty, however, this fashion of drinking and talking, which to ms appeared, in the other convives, the results of de- bauchery, habit, or compulsion, with Marguerite appeared as a desire of forgetting a fever, a nervous irritability. At each glass of champagne, her cheeks were covered with a feverish blush, and a slight cough at the commencement of supper had become, in the course of it, strong enough to compel her to lean her head on the back of her chair, and compress her bosom with her hands every time she coughed. I suffered at the injury, which these daily excesses, which had composed her life for the last three or four years, must have pro- duced on this frail constitution. At length arrived a circumstance I had foreseen and dreaded. Towards the end of supper, Marguerite was seized with a tit of coughing stronger than any that had preceded it. It seemed to me as if her chost was inwardly being torn to pieces. The poor girl became purple, closed her eyes with the pain, and carried to hor lips a napkin, which was presently stained with a drop of blood. She then rose and ran to her dressing- room. ' What's the matter with Marguerite, then ?' said Eugene. ' Why, she has laughed too much, and she spits blood,' said Prudence. ' Oh! it will be nothing, it happens every day. Keep your seats.' As to myself I could not rest, and to the great amazement of Prudence and Nanine, who called me back, I rejoined Marguerite. CHAPTER IX. The room iu which Marguerite had sought refuge was lighted by a single candle only. Reclining on a large sofa, her robe loosened, she laid one hand to her heart, and allowed the other to hang down. On tho table was a small basin half full of water; this water was marbled with streaks of blood. Marguerite, very pale, and her mouth half opened, endeavoured to take breath. At moments her chest heaved with a long sigh, which, evaporating, appeared to relieve her a little, and left her for a few moments with a more comfortable feeling. I approached the poor girl without her making a movement; 1 seated myself near her, aud took the hand which reposed on the sofa. She then raised herself, and said to me— ' Ah ! ' tis you !' It seemed that my face was in confusion, for she added, endea- vouring to smile— ' What, are yoa ill, too ?' ' No,' 1 replied. ' But do you still suffer?' ' Very little,' she said to me, wiping away with her handker- chief the tears which the cough had brought to her eyes. ' I am accustomed to it now.' ' You are killing yourself, madame.' I then said to her with some emotion, ' I would I were your friend, your parent, to pre- vent you thus injuring yourself.' ' Oh! ' tis really not worth the trouble of alarming yourself,' she replied in a somewhat bitter tone; ' you see that others do not worry themselves about me, because they know well there is nothing to be done for it.' And thus saying she rose, and taking the caudle from the table, she placed it on the chimney- piece, and viewed herself in the 1 You think like this to- night, because your mind is more sad than those who sup with ns ; but you will not have the patience of which you boast.' Allow me to tell you, Marguerite, that you were ill for two months, and that during those two months I came every day to inquire for you.' ' Why did not you come up?' ' Because I did not know you at that period.' ' Is there any ceremony with a girl like me ?' ' There is always some little respect due to a woman ; ' tis my opinion, at least.' ' And so, you will nurse me?' said Marguerite, smiling. ' Yes.' ' You will remain every day with me ?' ' Yes.' ' And every night too ?' ' All the time that I am not tiresome to you.' ' But what do you call this ?' ' Devotedness.' ' And from whence comes this devotedness ?' ' From an irresistible sympathy I have for you.' ' Then you are amorous of me? Say so at once; ' tis by far the simplest way.' ' ' Tis possible ; but if I must tell jou so some day, it will not be now.' ' You would do much better never to say so to me.' ' Why ?' ' Because one of two things must be the result.' ' What are they?' ' Either that I do not accept you, and then you will quarrel with me ; or, that I accept you, and then you will have but a sorrowful mistress; a woman nervous, ill, sad, or gay— a gaiety more " melancholy than grief : a woman who spits blood, and ex- pends a hundred thousand francs a- year; ' tis very well for a rich old man like the duke, but ' tis very irksome for a young man like you, and the proof is, that all the young men I have had for lovers have very soon quitted me.' 1 made no reply ; I listened. This frankness, which was next to a confession-. the griveous life I glimpsed beneath the gilded veil that covered it, and the reality of which the poor girl drowned in debauchery, drunkenness, aud sleepless nights; all this mad< such an impression upon me, that I could not find words to ex- press what I felt. ' Come,' said Marguerite, wo are talking like children. Give me your hand, and let us return to the supper- room. They can- not know what all this means.' Return if you like, but I ask your permission to remain here.' ' Why?' ' Because your gaiety hurts me excessively.' ' Well, I will be sad.' ' Stay. Marguerite,' I said, taking the two hands of this woman, allow me to tell you one thing, which no doubt you have been frequently told, and the habit of hearing it prevents you, perhaps, from putting faith in, but which is not the less real, and which I will perhaps never repeat to you.' ' And this is ?' she said, with the smile made by young mothers when listening to the prattle of their infant. ' It is, that since I saw you, I know not how or why, you have taken a place in my life; it is, that I have in vain tried to drive your image from my thoughts; it always returned; it is, that to- day when I saw you, after remaining two years without seeing you, you have usurped over my heart and my mind a still greater ascendancy ; it is lately, that you have received me, that I know you, that I know all that is strange about you, you are be- come indispensable to me, and that I shall become mad, not only if you do not love mc, but if you do not permit me to love STEAM- BOAT STANZAS. you. ' But, unhappy man that you are,' she said to me, ' I will say to you what Madame D— said,' You are very rich, then?' Why, you do not know, then, that I spend six or seven thousand francs a- month, and this expense is become necessary to my life? you know not, then, my poor friend, that I should ruin you in no time, and that your family would have you incarcerated, by way of teaching you not to live with a creature like me ? Love me sincerely as a friend, but not otherwise. Come and see me ; we will laugh, we will chat, but do not exaggerate my value, for lam not worth much. You have a good heart, you deserve to be loved ; you are too young and too sensible to live in our society. You see that I am a good girl, and that I speak frankly to you.' ' Ah, 9a! what the devil arc you doing there?' exclaimed Pru- dence, whom we had not heard approach, and who appeared in the door- way with her hair disarranged and her gown open. In this disorder I recognised the hand of Eugene. ' We are talking sense,' said Marguerite; ' leave us a little, we will rejoin you directly.' ' Right, right; talk my children,' said Prudence, retiring and slamming the door, as if further to add to the tone in which she had spoken the last words. ( To be continued.) ' How pale I am,' she said, fastening her robe and passing her fingers through her drooping ringlets. ' Ah, bah ! let us resume our seats at the table. Will you come?' But I was seated, and contemplated her with my whole soul. I did not stir. " She comprehended the emotion this scene had caused me, for she approached mc, and, presenting me her hand, with a sweet smile, said— ' Come, come.' I took her hand, I raised it to my lips, bedewing it, despite myself, with two large tears long restrained. ' Why, you are quite a child 1' she said, reseating herself near me,' you are weeping. What is the matter with you?' ' I must appear very silly to you, but what I have just seen pains me excessively.' ' You are very kind to disturb yourself about it. What would you? I cannot sleep. I must, distract myself a little; and then, for girls like me, one more or lass, of what consequence is it? The physicians tell me that the blood I spit comes from the lungs; I appear to believe them—' tis all I can do for them. ' Listen, Marguerite,' I then said, with a frankness I could not restrain, ' I know not >-'| the influence you are to have over my life, but what I know > s, that at the present moment there is no one, not even my sister, in whom I am so much interested as in you. It has been thus since I first saw you. Well, in the name of Heaven, be careful of yourself, and do not live as you are doing.' ' If I took caro of myself I sbotdd die. What supports me is the feverish life I lead. By taking care of myself I should die by inches ; by living as I do, I shall die suddenly. Then, to take care of oneself is very good for women of fashion who have a family and friends ; but we, from the moment we can no longer servo the vanity or pleasures of our lovers, they abandon us, and long even- ings succeed the long days. I know it well; I was for two months in my bed ; at the end of three weeks no one came to see me.' ' It is true that I am nothing to you,' I answered; ' but if you would like it, I will nurse you like a brother ; I will not quit you, and I will cure you. Then, when you have the strength, you shall resume the life you are leading, if it please you ; but I am sure you would prefer a tranquil existence, which would make you happier, and preserve your beauty.' NEIGHBOURS.— I have heard of a gentleman of large fortune, who, for some years after his residence in a particular neighbour- hood, did not set up his close carriage, but afterwards finding it more agreeable to do so, was surprised to find himself called upon by a host of carriage- keeping people, who did not seem previously to be aware of his existence; and rightly deeming the calls made upon his carriage rather than himself, sent round his empty car- riage to deliver cards in return. ROMANCE AND REALITY. No. II. BACHELOR. Oh! Lucy, dear, that sigh suppress; Be Missus B—, no less, no less. MAID. A wife just yet! Oh, la! oh, la ! I'll ask mamma— I'll ask mamma. BACHELOR. A joy comes o'er this spirit stealing. MAID. You should be knee— a kneeling. BACHELOR. The grass is green, my trowsers white, Your Henry, dear, will be a fright. MAID. For all your warm and am'rous speeches, You care less for me than for your breeches. BACHELOR. In love's etiquette I've made a sad relapse, I'd kneel with pleasure, but I can't for my straps. MAID. Away, away, my ire comes thick, No fop for me,— so cut your stick. The statistics of marriage prove that it is favourable to lon- gevity. It has been ascertained that at the age of sixty, there are but twenty- two unmarried men alive for fifty- eight married ; at seventy, eleven bachelors for thirty- seven married, aud at eighty, for three bachelors who may chance to be alive, there are nine Benedicts. Very nearly the same proportion holds good in the female sex, of whom, while seventy- two have been married attain the age of forty- five, only fifty- two unmarried reach the same term of life. Perhaps one great cause of this difference is the circum- stance of that tenderness of friendship which, we will hope, does in most cases exist between those who are yoked for life. It can- not be made the subject of precept, it must be left to grow up of itself under the general culture of reason and religion. It is one of the f Jrest productions of the human soil, the cordial of life, the lenitive of our sorrows, and the multiplier of our joys; the source, equally, of animation and of repose. GRAVESEND. Up, satire, up, and lash the fools who dream Of pleasure- finding at a place like this ; Where stinking water, garbage, gas, and steam, Preclude the possibility of bliss ! See, the steamer's coming in, Laden with it's mortal freight, Short and lanky, fat and thin, Ugly, handsome, bandy, straight. That young lady, plump and sallow, With the spaniel at her feet, Looks like a lump of tallow Melting with excessive heat. You would fancy, by her manners, She could boast of high ascent; Higher than a race of tanners, Near to Rochester, in Kent. But, alas! those airs affected, Are not back'd by cash or fame, As was more or less, suspected, When from London- bridge she came. That lean, hungry- looking reptile, Talking with the captain aft. Who tiie parish money kept, till Threats produced his tardy draft, Has a wife and 6even daughters, And a brace of Tony Lumpkins ; Yet he lives with Mother Shorters, Famous for her pair of pumpkine « That old harlot over- rules him With her fat and squabby charms, And at Walworth often cools him, Iu her scent- encumbered arms! But, although not over clean, In the summer's sultry weather, There you'd find their fat and lean Blended lovingly together. That young lady near the engine, List'ning to the honied phrases Of that gallows roue, Singeing, Fam'd at all the watering- places, Has, it would appear, come hither, Thinking that saline ablution Might restore, altho' he's with her, Her long tainted constitution. E'en the servant girl beside her Blushes at her indiscretiou, Thinking ruin must betide her, Should she make one more concession. Her confiding spouse in London, Little dreams of her backsliding, Little thinks he's horned and undone By the woman love sits chiding. Oh ! how many foolish fellows, Had they other people's eyes, Would have cause for being jealous Of the " darling dears" they prize ! Woman ! thou art frail as ice, When the summer heat attacks thee, And the blandishments of vice Dazzle, soften, and relax thee ! Next to that consummate donkey, Stands a wretch diseas'd and pale, Round him as arouud a couch, he Finds corruption's crust prevail ! What a nice young man, methinks, If'th' affianced damsel knew him, Notwithstanding all the Btinks More or less adhering to him ! That sedate and tall old lady, Clad in satin, rich and rare, Seated where ' tis cool and shady, Ia no plebeian you may swear; Though her locks are getting hoary, You'll discover much that's mental In her fast- receding glory, Which was never accidental! Yonder noisy giggling dandies, Are a brace of banker's clerks, Come to Gravesend, where the land is Famed alike for gulls aud sharks— Come to Gravesend, where the water's Quite as black as Wapping puddle, A nd our mother Eve's ( rail daughters None but cockney clerks would cuddle. Come to Gravesend, where you're greeted With a thousand how d'ye do's, From the smirking Christians, seated, ' Midst a host of filthy Jews— Come to Gravesend, where your nose is Sicken'd with infernal stenches, Where as soon as daylight closes, Lust lets loose her frowsy wenches ! A NEW SALAD.— Fath er Hughes, in a sermon to his pa" rishioners, repeated the quotation, that ' all flesh is grass.' Ths season was Lent, and a few days afterwards he encountered Terence O'Collins, who appeared to have something on his mind. ' The top of the mornin' to your rivcrence,' said Terence ; ' did I fairly understand your riverence to say, ' all flesh is grass,' last Sunday.' ' To be sure you did,' replied the bishop; ' and you're a heretic if you doubt it.' ' 0! divil a bit do I doubt anything your riverence says,' said the wily Terence ; ' but if your rive- rence plazes, I wish to know whether in this Lent time, I could not be afther having a sm all piece of bafe by way of a salad ?' An elaborately witty friend of our's had occassion the other day to mortage his chruuometer, or eight day clock. On waiting upon my uncle, and being unused to impignoration, he felt par- ticularly nervous; he, however, recovered his natural complacency on beholding the ' rowdy' on the counter in association with a little bit of card, called a duplicate ; he placed the money in his fob, and, gazing wistfully on the small memorandum, exclaimed, in the language of Young, ' We take no note of time but by its loss.' Having waited a considerable period for the pawnbroker to volunteer a smile, which uncle didn't achieve,. the man of wit peremptorily evaporated. NEW DEFINITION OF AN EVERGREEN.— A man who does not learn by experience. COMING TO THE POINT.— The following is a verbatim copy of a Ciceronian epistle lately sent to a parish clerk :—' Can wa baa marad to- morrow mourneen at alavan o'clock ? Plase to sand maa wild.' Printed and published for the Proprietors by W. WINN, Holywell- street Strand,^ wkere all communications are to be addressed.