LOOK OUT FOR " THE TIMES WE LIVE IN. A JV A U T. T E R JYO O JV " LA ! JEM, WHAT A DUCK YOU LOOK IN THOSE MOUSTACHIOS." AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF MR. JAMES JOHNSON SMITH. ( See Engraving.) Smith is a common name, ai d so is Johnson, but Johnson Smith does not sound quite so ordinary, and certainly our hero Mr. James Johnson Smith was anything but a common man ;— jf you doubt my word, reader, look at his portrait, sketched by the Lawrence- like pencil of our inimitable artist. When men turned up their noses— by the bye, it is only nasal organs of the gem s pug that can accomplish this feat; I never Knew a Roman attempt it— I say when men turned up their noses pro. 59.] at James Johnson Smith, they called him a barber, but he de- scribed himself as a Perruquier;— he was in reality a hair- dresser, and cut and curled at sixpence a head, as many heads as he could lay his hands upon. James Johnson Smith lived in the neighbourhood of the Strand, was four and twenty, and a married man. It was understood in his own quarter that James had married his mistress, the widow of the late Mr. John Indiabalm, in whose service our young friend had grown into manhood. The widow was fourteen or fifteen years older than Mr. Jem, but as my grandfather used to say to my grandame when she rated the maids, ' You can't expect all the • ardinal virtues for ten pounds a year,' and why should Jem de- mand that which was unreasonable. If Mrs. Indiabalm wasn't very young, why she was very well off, and remarkably crummy, and it was some consolation to think— at least it might have been that should distress at any time over- take them and the broker seize their bed and bolster, he might pillow downily, and not sleep with his head too low, on the soft and ample bosom of the late sleeping partner of the departed Indiabalm. At all events Smith knew which Bide his bread was buttered, and not believing in the creed of the ancient Weller, wedded the widow, though in doing so, he was compelled to break with the amiable and pretty Miss Dobbs, a youthful milliner of rising prospects. We commence our story then, and Mrs. Smith was out of town — as she termed it— staying with her aunt at Hammersmith four years alter marriage. Mr. Jem was alone, business was dull— people don't have their hair cut on Saturday afternoons as a rule — and the perruquier was standing in his own doorway, and a philosopher would add in his own light— when who should trip past but his old sweetheart Polly Dobbs. A F T H E TOWN ' Polly!' cried Jem. ' There you are, then,' said Polly. Polly was only two and twenty, and though four years had run their course, they seemed but to have ripened Pretty Poll. Jem thought of bis calamity at Hammersmith who was getting lubsy and fusty, fast, and wore five false teeth in front ' this style 21. 10s. the set.' ' Polly, my love!' ' Don't my love, me, sir. How's your wife ?' ' She be— jiggered. Polly you're not married yet? What a nice little girl you are,' and he clapped his hand round her waist as he led her into the shop. ' Why Polly, you don't wear stays!' ' Yes I do to my waist— bones in my dress.' Now we are not by any means advocates for that terrible article of woman's most nnnatural clothing, stays, and in addition to the benefit con'erred on the health of the young lady who dis- penses with it, we may add our personal satisfaction when de- sign or accident brings our arms or hands in momentary contact with the waist of the female form divine, at finding lovely woman is not like the Ghost of Hamlet's father ' locked up' iu complete steel. Jem, perhaps, allowed this feeling too much to runaway with him, for when in the ladies' hair- cutting room Polly remon- strated with her faithless swain, his only excuse was— as he dressed her head, partly for old love, and partly for form's sake, which taken altogether was rather a slow process, as he stopped to kiss her between all the brushes and twists— that he liked it— what a fall in her back she had! Polly soon forgot Mr. Jem's former treachery and after much entreaty, a trifle more squeezing, aud some slight yielding, it was settled that the following afternoon should be delightfully spent jn each other's company at that popular place of entertainment Cremorne Gardens. The day came ; the weather was fine, and so was Jem, yet had hft sad misgivings hanging about his heart; although he knew not wny— certainly not engendered by any feeling of morality. Jem was naturally anxious not to be recognised at so pubUc a place of entertainment with a fair companion who had 110 lawful claim to the protection of his arm, and he sat for a long while on a high stool opposite his largest glass, brushing his hair with his best penetrators to brighten his wits, as some men smoke tobacco and others chew opium, while the process of thought is going on. Polly came in to his aid, and with woman's ingenuity put the case in a moment. ' Lor, Jem,' said she, ' what prime moustachios those are in your window, whv don't you put on a pair'?' ' What a lark, Polly, if the old woman should meet us !' ' I'll say you're my cousin in the guards.' Jem did as he was bid and tried a pair, but he declared they tickled his nose so cruelly there was no bearing them, besides they were only fastened with sticking plaister, and one had a propensity to drop down his chin and the other to turn up its tail in the direction of his eye- brow, so he had well- nigh given up the at- tempt in despair, when Polly vowed the beautiful waxen image of the top part ot a smiling gentleman iu the window would yield the very things, properly stuck on with a little glue. They went, and it was at the moment when Polly was ad- miring the elegant laeial appearance of her lover in the gardens, and the shades of night gathering around them he was about to lead her to the peaceful solitude of the log- hut for half an hour's rest, and perhaps— for anything I know to the contrary— to discuss some abstruse philosophical or political question, that our artist made his sketch. We have it on the authority of the latter gentleman that when he saw again the youthful couple some; hour afterwards, they were the centre of a group of jeering spectators. The shirt- front of Mr. James Johnson Smith was torn violently from its resting- place, one moustachio had departed, and his cheeks streamed with blood evidently flowing from the infliction of finger nails. Miss Polly Dobb's bonnet was smashed and her dresS in rib- bons, she was cryiug bitterly, but still clinging to her dear James, and looked very much afraid of the mob, particularly the female portion, who called her a ' nasty thing!' ar. d said, ' well! they never did !' as angrily almost as though they never had! There was a very stout, middle- aged woman, shaking her fists in the faces of the scared couple, and appealing violently to the public, whilst ever and anon, when wrought to fury she pulled out five false teeth on a frame, and whistled savagely througa her gums. Our R A. could not divine who she was, but, reader, perhaps you can guess. Poor little pretty Polly Dobbs, thou hast our pity, but for James Johnson Smith, double deceiver— perruquier— humbug! what shall be said to thee ? Editor ( fo his wife.) Who the devil's that? Editor's Wife A little boy, my dear, with a dirty face. Editor ( grandly.) Admit the dirty- faced boy. Enter Boy. Please, sir, I want a front article. Editor s Wife. Good gracious, my dear, what does the child mean ? Editor. I know what he means well enough. There, § ir, that'll do— there's the - M. S. Be off. A glass of brandy aud water, and a cigar for your husband, ma'am! CScene closes. J JACK'S DILEMMA. BY AMBROSE HUDSON. MR. PINK'S COUSIN MARY. POETIC EMANATION OP A SPANISH SPARK. ( Addressed to a Lady, whose daughter was celebrated for her beautiful hair.) BY THE ELFIN QUEEN. With words that well up from the heart, I serenade Earth's dearest fair ; And sing the beauties of that part, In Nature's works, most rich and rare! Yes! Lady fair, to you I sing, In music thus express my soul;— My hope, that I may pleasure bring To you, the mistress of the whole ! I compliment you, on possessing, That sweet impersonation, mild, Young, free;— that dearest, greatest blessing, A pretty little loving child. Last night, I saw your little thing; I much admire its graceful air ; It bounds about, with wondrous spring, And much I love its dark brown hair. In common with most earthly things, ' Twill doubtless love both routs and balls ; Though dancing often much pain brings, By slips, and, sometimes, serious falls. In course of time, your child will wed, And entrance gain to Hymen's bower; To learn that roses in the bed— Are sweeter than the plucked wild flower. Then Lady fair, accept my lay, Right earnestly indeed I sing; Tho' all I feel, I scarce may say, About your pretty little thing. Rattling Jack Twiddy— to use a familiar appellation bestowed on this gentleman by his immediate circle— was a professor of music, and occupied apartments in Berners- street, a weird locality, patron- ized by quack doctors and professors of the fine arts. Jack who had been a student of the Royal Academy, and a fast youth, was at length unpleasantly pressed for capital, or, as he expressed it in the vernacular, oonfoundedly ' hard up.' His father a retired gro- cer and widower of fifty- five, was said to be on the point of matri- mony with Mrs. McGrub, a Scotch lady of independent means, and having very constantly, for some years past, been compelled to shell out for the benefit of his son Jack, now refused further to supply that young gentleman's extravagances. Our youthful hero was in despair. The times were hard and pupils scarce. People even grumbled atthree- and- sixpence a lesson to learn the popular songs of' What is the matter with thee, my love?' and ' I have a pain about my heart, my dear.' Jack's landlord had threatened to seize the piano, and his laundress had actually detained Ills shirts for a trifling bill or two pounds seven, and in order to attend a lady's school at Kensington with becoming dignity, Jack had been reduced to the necessity of buying a dickey. Matters seemed at the worst, and a desperate step of some kind or other was to be taken. Jack had tried his acquaintances all round for the loan of five pounds, but it was an extraordinary fact that everybody he applied to, was as much pushed as himself, or averse to precarious investment. As the old gentleman would do nothing, Twiddy contemplated applying in his distress to Mrs. McGrub herself, but he was withheld by two circumstances; first, the lady came from the land of cakes, and his experience told him that fact was against hiin, secondly, the knowledge that he had declared himself the suitor of her daughter, Miss Jessie McGrub, to the content of the last- named, but the indignation and annoyance of mamma. Jack Twiddy's affairs then, were in this position, when after spending a restless night, he rose with what he deemed at last a bright idea, if not an original one. There was only one objection to it— it involved if carried out, the withdrawal of his claim to the hand of Miss Jessie. But alas,' the age of chivalry and romance is gone— that of economy and speculation hath succeeded.' So said the orator Burke, and so thought the musician Twiddy. Rent must be paid, or grasping landlords will take the six- and- a- half octaves, and stony- minded washerwomen continue to adhere to the cambric and fine linen. Jack had five and twenty shillings, and resolved to expend seven in an advertisement for a wife. He ac- cordingly drew up a pleasant statement of his wants, adding an at- tractive list of qualifications possessed by the ' young professional gentleman, & c.,' and took it to the office of that happy instrument in all such cases, the Sunday Times. Now it so happened, though Jack did not know as much, that his father rather approved of the young dog's proposed match with with Jessie, e. iid a few evenings after the opening of our story, broached the matter to his own intended, Mrs. McGrub. That lady, however, would not hear of it, called Jack a ' ne'er- do- weel,' and eventually quarrelled violently on the subjeotwith the respect- able ex- grocer. Twiddy received several answers to his overtures, the best, he had ever written, certainly the only one that had been published ; but one effusion, penned in a charming Italian hand, absorbed his attention. He replied to it in becoming terms, and received another, and another again. All letters being directed for both correspon- dents to be left at the Post- office. At length Jack grew anxious for a meeting, and an appointment, after much modest delay, was made for a particular day and hour at that most convenient and popular rendezvous, the Burlington Arcade. The lady was to carry a pocket handkerchief visibly in her parasol, and Jack was to wear a white waistcoat and blue Joinville. We were not present, of course, at the toilet of the fair one, but we can imagine the mag- nitude of the preparations, the demand for pins, powder, and bando- line, the perpetual dartings at the glass, and the innumerable last surveys. As for Jack, sufficient be it to record, that he expended four- and- sixpence in a new tie, aud nearly took the shine out of it, putting the thing on and off before he could give it the proper out- and- out neglige air. With beating heart, and not without many a thought of Jessie McGrub, did he wend his way down the Strand. He had made up his mind that his charming correspondent was young and lovely, indeed she had tacitly acknowledged it, and he pictured to himself a beautiful bashful creature, with hazel eyes and jet black hair. It was her handwriting that had jniiuced him to associate her in idea with the daughters of the south, and a bouncing fair haired girl had rather disappointed him than otherwise. Above all beauty of person, however, the lady enjoyed an abundant income, unfettered and uncontrolled. Jack was full a quarter of an hour before his time, so he stopped to give his Joinville a last twist iu a shop- window, and whisked the tip of his nose with a very dear piece of scented caaibric. He entered the Arcade, and— good gracious! how unlucky, that confounded old Mother McGrub was there, taking an airing, at the precise moment. What the deuce could she be at? It was very unfortunate. She was advancing to meet him, and yet— yes ! She looked as much annoyed as lie was. ' Ugh!' thought Jack,' I wish you were up to your neck in the Clyde.' '| Hoot!' thought Mrs. McGrub,' I wish you were at the bottom the Sairpeenteen.' ' Mrs. McGrub!' ' Maister John Tweedy!' Horror and surprise beamed in their faces. ' Guidness guide us! ye ha' gotten a braw blue stock and bonny white waistcoat, John ?' And you, ma'am, dash it! look at your pocket- handkerchief in your parasol.' Both were indignant in the extreme, but both felt the necessity of explanation. Mrs. McGrub, after her difference with the old gentleman, had earnestly replied to the advertisement of the young one, without of course knowing its author. Much mutual recrimi- nation ensued, but the lady, before parting, found it to her interest to give 0[ ack a ten- pound note, and promise him the hand of her daughter conditionally, on the old gentleman giving them a start in life. We need not add that mutual secrecy was agreed upon and kep^;. Mrs. McGrub speedily made up the quarrel with the retired grocer, anc( both marriages were solemnised the same morning and at one church. Though the world does rot generally know it, this is the full, true and particular account of how Jack Twiddy got a wife and a fortune. Jessie McGrub had a thousand pounds for a wedding portion. Amos Pink lived in the city of C- At the timo of our story he was four and twenty years of age, and well satisfied with his situation of clerk to a solicitor. He was a smart young chap, of rather too slender and delicate a make for a man, perhaps, but he was good looking, nevertheless, and certainly very good hearted. Now Amos had a sweetheart whose name was Eliza Bell, and a remarkably good and pretty little creature she was too. She was only a poor girl it is true, living one may say in the service of a maiden aunt, but that circumstance did not lessen her in the estimation of her lover, as indeed it ought not to have done. Properly tutored minds don't despise people because they happen to be poor. Our hero in his general charactir was rather bashful, but espe- cially so in the presence or ladies. It was rarely he could pluck up courage to make himself agreeable when he chanced to be in their company ; nevertheless, there were some young women who held Amos in high esteem. They knew his failing, and sympa- thized with him. One evening when our lovers were conversing in a more lively and animated manner than usual, Amos said, ' You sleep by yourself, don't you, dear ?' ' La ! Amos what a question.' ' Oh, you needn't blush, I was only going to say that my cousin Mary is coining to- morrow, and she does not intend to r turn till the following day; as we havn't a spare bed, I thought she might come and sleep with you. Do you think your aunt would object for one night?' ' Why, we are strangers to each other, but I don't object to share my bed if it will oblige you, and aunt is agreeable.' ' Well, if cousin Mary comes, you must not bother her with too much talk, she is very shy before strangers.' ' She must be a silly girl, she'll never get through the world if she goes on that way.' ' Poor thing, she's been the same since childhood, and she's now one and twenty— just a year older than I am— but I must ask your aunt's consent I suppose.' He did so, and she immedi- ately acceded to the request. ' I suppose you'll come with her?' said Eliza. ' Yes, if I can get away, and if I can't, I'll induce Ellen to come, you know Ellen ?— and now give me one kiss at parting there's a duck,' said Amos, as he drew her towards him. ' No I won't, sir ! Amos how can you ?' ' Not give me a kiss! then I'll take as many as I want.' ' Giving and taking are differen' things,' whispered the maid, as her lover encircled her in his arms, and kissed her in such a go- a- head way that there was some doubt whether he would ever leave off 1 Ainos returned home in ex- cellent spirits, which most, likely arose because his cousin Mary was expected on the morrow ; right- minded people are always glad to see their friends. The following evening Eliza was turning over various articles of dress with her hands in a drawer, and at the same time turning over the probable personal appearance of her lover's cousin in her mind, when tap, tap, came a gentle knock at the door. It was cousin Mary. She was alone, a circumstance which appeared rather odd, so Eliza said,' Why you've come by yourself, how's that ?' ' Amos was so busy be couldn't,' replied Mary, shyly. ' Well, as long as you've found the way, no matter.' Eliza was anxious to converse, but Mary was excessively shy. Bed lime arrived, and they re- tired. Eliza soon undressed herself and tumbled into bed. Mary fumbled while undressing, in a very extraordinary manner, then upsetting the candlestick, extinguished the light and called her- self a careless thing; at last they lay side by side, and now Eliza would talk, and her companion having got the better of her shy- ness, replied with more freedom. ' Ah !' said Eliza,' you appear very dull and gloomy, I am afraid there is something on your mind that troubles you.' • You are right in thinking so, my friend.' ' Well, perhaps I may guess what ails you. Are you in love ?' ' Ycii have guessed rightly.' ' And is yours a hopeless love— is it not reciprocated ?' ' Oh yes, but in consequence of mv uaturally shy disposition, I sometimes think I cast a dampness on the ardent feelings of my lover.' ' I see, but in my opinion you act very wrongly ; if you consider the object of regard wor- thy your affection, you should not fail to show it. By conducting yourself so coyly, you may induce him to think you are indiffer- ent to his addresses.' ' Oh I what a philosopher you are.' ' Yes, quite so in that respect.' ' And how would you advise me to act ?' ' As your feelings dictate to be sure.' ' Then thus let me kiss you, my own loved Eliza.' These last words revealed to the unsuspecting girl, a circum- stance which she had never suspected. It was Amos Pink, who had so cleverly acteid the part of a woman. What a sly fellow that Amos must have been. ' Oh ! you villain,' exclaimed Eliza, after she recovered from her fright,' who would have thought it? I'd scream murder and all sorts of frightful things, only I'm afraid I should wtke my aunt. Don't speak to me! I don't love you ! I won't be friends with you! Oh! please go away, do! aud I'll meet you to- mor- row.' What answer Amos made we have no means of knowing. Per- haps he got up and went away as he was told, but at all events Amos didn't long remain a single man. Somewhere about a month after the preceding incident, he and his dear little Eliza were married at the quiet little church of C——, and lived very happily together; but whenever they hear of cousins visiting their relatives, they think of the foregoing adventure, and some- times crack merry jokes on the bashf'ulness of cousin Mary. A man boasting in a company of ladies that he had a very lux uriant head of air, a lady present remarked that it was owing to the mellowness of the soil. WITH OR WITHOUT. ' What do you ask as a salary ?' said an American hotel- keeper to a young man whom he proposed to engage to attend his bar. ' Five dollars per week, with the run of the till!' he replied, ' or filteen dollars without. FRESH AIR. Smithers says he can't see that fresh air does him any good. For the last week he has slept with his window open reguisrly every night, and yet his cough is just as bad as ev r it was. Smithers begins to look upon ventilation as a hum, notwithstsnding it is so lauded by the doctors. A gentleman was remarking that the Dutch were very jooular fellows. 11 think on the contrary,' said his friend, ' Dutchmen are all stern.' RICH AND POOR. Wealth is power. This remark has almost become trite by repetition, but has never yet been properly illustrated. Consider the advantages of a great fortune, and the enjoyments it affords. May not the man of wealth indulge in the delightful delirium of drunkenness, without suffering the next day any other inconvenience than the paltry infliction of a tine of five shillings and a headache ? May he not for a few pounds enjoy the refined pleasure of breaking the feverish slumber of the invalid, or start ling the timid mother, by thejerking of bell- wires and the wrench- ng of ktiojkers ? Is not his the noble privilege of half murder - ng his fellow- men, as long as he has sufficient money to pay for it? Will not a few pounds enable him to despoil humble innocence of its purity, and to tinge the brow of age with shame ? Or can he not, at the trifling sacrifice of a hundred or two, enjoy the splendid luxury of blasting the husband's happiness by dishonor- ing the wife, aud checking the holy springs of filial love by pol- luting the mother ? Does not the wise spirit of the laws, too, entitle him far ' a consideration' to blacken the fair fame of any that may provoke his enmity ? Are the luxuries of drunkenness, cruelty, rioting, seduction, adultery, and slander, within the reach of poverty? No! Can indigence aspire to such happiness? NO; for it has been very properly oruainod that the poor man who infringes the privileges of the rich by partaking of their amusement, shall atone for his presumption by undergoing a course of moral and physical cor- rection at the treadmill— the disgracc improving his manners, and the exercise doing the same for nis healtn. ' How beautiful,' said a lady,' the face of nature looks after un- dergoing a shower 1' 4 Yes, madam, aud so would yours, after undergoing a similar process.' Why are the girls like arrows }— Because they all in a quiver when the beaus come. T H E TOWN. TALES OF LONDON LIFE.— No. 2. MODEST MARTHA; THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON STREETS, BY H. G. BROOKS.— AUTHOR OF MRS. LORIMER SPINKS. Return we now to Lady Arding, whom we left at No. 51, in Whitecross- street Prison, in company with Herbert Leslie. A change— a marked change in her manner towards him, aud the fearful glance of bitter hatred, which we described her as casting upon her companion, still hung upon her countenance. In 9hort, all her former love or lust appeared to have changed to a feeling of vengeance— a burning de< ire of revenge ; hence, he was desirous of obtaining a letter from Leslie to Simon Pember- ton,— or the Eirl of Elstree— as we must now call him. Unacquainted with the circumstances detailed in the last num- ber, she imagined Martha to be in the neighbourhood of Cato- street. ' You do not drink,' she exclaimed, as Herbert pushed the glass untasted from him. ' I have no need for farther stimulant,' replied Herbert; ' I have already taken up the glass Hud I don't like the scent.' Whilst uttering these words his eyes became fixed upon the bosom of his companion, who having thrown aside her shawl, showed a richly worked habit shirt, from between the folds of which, and her dress, he could perceive the cork and a portion of the phial, from which she had a few moments previous poured some of the contents into his glass. The thought immediately flashed upon the mind of Herbert that some treachery was inten- ded towards him. At the same time he remembered the dread- ful circumstances which Rivers had reported to have taken place at the house in Piccadilly. He determined, however, to control his feelings, and the resolve as the result will show was u wise one. ' You are offended with me,' said Lady Arding, taking up the rejected glass,' for it's mere fancy to suppose the wine not good.' ' You are mistaken, Louisa,' replied Leslie ; ' there is another reason prevents my drinking.' ' Ah 1' exclaimed her ladyship, her suspicions becoming ex- cited lest he had discovered her murderous design,' What is it?' ' I have noticed for some time a head peeping iu through yon- der window, as if watching our actions.' Lady Arding turned in alarm, and looked in the direction pointed to by Leslie, then enquired who he thought it was. ' You know I think,' was the answer. ' I know,' exclaimed Louisa, with surprise, 1 who then do you suspect it to be ?' ' Your brother,' replied Herbert,' let him come in, rather than play the spy there—- I have nothing to fear from him.' Lady Arding could not refrain from laughing, feeling assured of the utter impossibility of its being the Weazel who was outside, she found it, however, impossible to convince Herbert to the con- trary, and he pertinaciously continuing to declare that it wa9 her brother, she for the purpose of quieting his suspicions and at the same time curious to see who the stranger could be, left the apartment. 1 Fool,' exclaimed Herbert, as soon as she had quitted the room, ' with all her cunning I have deceived her,' and then taking up the glass before him he proceeded to examine the contents. ' I have no doubt this glass of wine has been drugged,' he continued, ' and it would be but fairly turning the tables upon her were I to change the glasses. But no, I will not do so. I will add to her confusion, aud seizing the glass he hurled its contents beneath the grt. te, and then re filled it from the bottle upon the table. ' There is no danger at least in this,' he added,' for she has par- taken of it.' Almost immediately after this act Lady Arriing re- entered the room, and at once proceeded to inform him that he had been de- ceived. The ruse which Leslie had practised upon her was not in any way suspected, and seating herself at the table, perceiving that the contents of the wine- glass appeared not to have been touched, she filled up her glass, and exclaimed— ' Come Herbert, you can have no objection at least now to drinking with me.' Herbert took the wine and slowly sipped its contents, observing as he drank it' The wine has a very peculiar flavor.' The deception was complete, and Lady Arding imagining that this last observation proceeded from his having tasted the poison in the wine, could scarce conceal her feeling of triumph, a sen- timent which was considerably increased upon perceiving him empty the contents of the glass. ' Now then, we are friends again,' she said,' and as it is useless losing time, considering how little we have left, were it not better for you at once to give me the papers I have asked you for.' ' First let me hear vour story.' ' At least write the letter.' To this proposition Herbert consented, and at once wrote a note to his companions, dictation, giving the most convincing proofs, if proofs were needed, of the legitimacy of his daughter. This letter lie folded and handed to Lady Ardiug, who takiug pos- session of it placed it carefully in her reticule. ' You appear anxious to hear my story,' she commenced ; ' I am, however, fearful that there will be found many circumstances in it, that will be anything but agreeable to you.' There waB a peculiar intonation iu iier voice as she made this remark, but Leslie did not appear to heed it, and she continued— ' My father I never knew, for he died when I was but an in- fant ; and my brother, who was my seni > r by about sixteen months, also had not any remembrance of him. My earliest re- collection commences with a poorly furnished apartment in Red Lion- street, Holborn ; my brother being engaged as offiee boy to a lawyer in Lincoln's- inn. I was nine years old when my only pa- rent died, a parish funeral being all that could be obtained, for friends wo ha i none. 1 will not tire you with long particulars. I obtained a situation as nurse- girl, but my mistress became too poor to keep me, and after various vicissitudes, at twelve years of age I found myself selling fruit and bills at the Theatre, some- times forced to sleep in the streets, at others herding with beings whom distress compelled to seek a refuge in the wretched dwel- lings called lodging- houses in St. Giles's. Purity, or virtue, were expressions never heard of in these places, save wheu some begging- letter was to be concocted, or tale of distress taught to a young beginner in the art of imposture; and you cannot therefore wonder that I early became initiated in crime ! crime ; crime in its most repulsive form met me at every turn; robberies were of nightly occurrence; the proceeds of roguery were hourly divided before me ; and on more than oue occasion blood has been shed in my presence. The stifled groans of fools who had been induced to accompany some of the female lodgers home, the sale of their clothes a few days afterwards, to- gether with occasional enquiries at the house for the missing strangers, convincing me too plainly that many— very many had met a violent, death in the abode which I was forced to make my home. I was now ill my fifteenth year, to say that I had preserved my virtue till lbat period, would be as ab « urd as the attempt to do so would have been insanity. A travelling huwker, thrice my age, — since transported,— partly by violence, effected my ruin ; cries, threats, or entreaties, were alike useless, and whop I talked of complaining, who was I to tell of the injury done me, when those to whom I mentioned the circumslance rather congratulated me upon it, as having as they termed it made me a woman1 ' Where was your brother?' interrupted Leslie ; ' he was in a good situation, his master a lawyer, he would have protected you.' Lady Arding laughed in a scornful tone, and continued—' My brother had long since lost his situation, and herded with a gang of villains, equal in crime to those I was associated with. It was one night, or rather morning, for the Theatres were all closed, about six months after my seduction, I was returning homeward through Drury Lane, when in the shade of one of the many courts near Long Acre, I saw the figure of a man lying upon the ground, I was well acquainted with street- brawls, and imagi- ning this to be one of that character, I advanced to the fallen man with the view of raising him. My astonishment was con- siderable upon finding that it was a corporal in the 71st, a regi- ment just returned from the war in Flanders, I assisted him to rise, and in doing so perceived his wato^ i hanging from his pocket. 1 had heard in the slang parlance of my companions of' chances' I thought of my impoverished condition, and the idea immedi- ately suggested itself to me, that the possession of this watch would be to me a treasure. Scarcely, however, had I formed this notion when the man having gained his feet seized me round the waist, and held me firmly, swearing that he would not let me go, ' that I had had his money and he would not be done by me.' It was in vain I endeavoured to explain to him that he had mis- taken me for some other person who had deceived him. For I was not so young as not to understand his meaning. He, however, per- sisted, and added that I had robbed him of his purse, containing eleven pounds; as he made this charge he drew from his side his bayonet, which he threatened to plunge into me, if I did not in- stantly consent to his wishes. I struggled to release myself, and, although but fifteen, the life of endurance which I had led gave me the strength of a woman, his drunkenness giving me a considerable advantage and I wrested the bayonet from his hand, the m, ment he felt that he had lost the weapon his fury knew no bounds, and with his clenched fist struck me a violent blow upon the face, which sent me reeling from him. He advanced to repeat the blow, when I stepped aside and he fell heavily upon the ground. I now determined to possess myself of his watch, for what I considered as a recompense for the injury he had done me. Turning him roughly over, I stooped down and seized the chain and pulled the watch from his pocket, but I had mistaken the powers of the drunkard, for being an old soldier he was inured to attacks of this kind, and putting out his leg and entangling it in mine, ' ere I was aware of his purpose or could rise, he threw me upon him, exclaiming— ' You d d b , you'd take my ticker too, would you, THE TRICKS OF OUR TIMES. MOCK AGENCY OFFICES. you want to come Miss Riler's* trick do you, but your deceived I've got you.' And he then called loudly for the watchman, at the same time holding me tightly down. At this moment I knew not what to do, I only felt convinced, if found in this position by the watch, I might be transporied or even hung, as the woman to whom he had alluded had been served. Raising my arm therefore before he could be aware of my purpose, I struck the bayonet into his side, and a3 I withdrew it I could feel the point separate the flesh from between the rib; the soldier gave a cry of pain but still continued his grasp, calling louder for help. I raised the bayonet a second time and plunged it with all the force I possessed into his stomach, burying the steel nearly six inches beneath his navel. As I withdrew the weapon, his arms fell con- vulsively by his side, but fearful lest he should still revive I seized the point, dripping with blood and gore, and struck him with the thiokest end upon the face with all the power I possessed. The bosom of my dress was completely saturated with the blood which had almost spouted from the wound I had made in his stomach. As the grey light of the morning streamed dowa from the tops of the houses, it fell upon the face of the soldier, and I could per- ceive plainly that he was dead. I have gazed upon many scenes of blood since that, but never shall I forget the look of this my first victim. As with most buildings in poor neighbourhoods the doors of several of the houses m ar me stood open, to go through the streets in my present state I knew must excite suspicion. I therefore ran down the court, and entering one of the houses closed the door, and passed through the passage into the little back- yard, knowing that at that early hour the poor inhabitants would be sound asleep. I now proceeded to cleanse my hands frotn the blood with which they were clotted, a good supply of water from the adjacent butt soon effected that, and then I tore from the bosom of my tattered frock such portions as were stained, throwing them down the water- closet. I had just concluded my ablution when the clock of St. Clement's Danes struck three, at the same moment I heard the sound of voices in the court followed by the springing of a rattle. It was evident the body of the soldier had been found with the bayonet by the side of him. I nearly fainted with fright, and was about re- entering the water- closet, intending to escape when the alarm had ceased, but just as I had formed the resolution, I heard the sound of a low chuckling laugh from above, and looking up- wards saw a figure at the window gazing at me. It was my brother,— he had witnessed the whole affair. He however sheltered me, and although a large reward was offered the murderer of the soldier was never discovered. The watch being a valuable one, we at first had some difficulty in disposing of it. I did not, however, return to my old friends in St. Giles's. My brother lived with a female who prostituted her body for his support, and by her! was introduced to the streets. I con- tinued this life till meeting with old Caruthers, the banker. I was taken by him to Birmingham, and lived with him till his death. ' Lived with him,' again interrupted Leslie, who during her long recital had listened with horror, ' were you not then married to him?' ' Yes,' answered his companion, 1 but although he gave me a good education he deceived me.' ' But you possessed the whole of his immense property,' said Leslie' ' In his will he left it all to you as his wife.' ' Who says so?' enquired Lady Ardiug, with a sneer. ' No, he tried to deceive, but his life paid for his treachery as others have done since, and others will do,' as she spoke these words she looked with a peculiar glance at Leslie. He did not, however, appear to heed the observation, but exclaimed— ' Did you then murder him, ?' ' No— no, not precisely murder him, but I found, after I had been with him six or seven years, he had a child living somewhere in Scotland, whom he had long discarded for marrying after her own will and not consulting his. This girl he wished to make the sole inheritess of his fortune, except a small legacy to me. The will was made, but wrung from him by my brother, who still holds possession of it. You will be surprised to hear that Sam Rivers is the grandson of old Caruthers— his mother being Miss Caruthers or Mrs. Rivers, and died on my brother's staircase of starvation.'— But ere she could get at it I straugled him in his bed— he had been ill some considerable time, and was attended by a physician who lived at Wolverhampton. My brother occasionally visited me, in- deed I was forced to keep him. Together we planned to obtain possession of the property, and this was the result. Finding that I had suffocated theold man and ho was dead I called loudly for assistance, and upon the servant coming desired an attorney to be sent for immediately, as my husband wished to make alterations in his will. My brother and myself then removed the body into an ad- joining cupboard, and he placed himself in the bed, groaning like one in great pain. He counterfeited the old man's voice so well that the lawyer was deceived, and writing to his dictation added a codicil, making over all the the property to me. After which my brother threw himself back in the bed aqd pretended to be fatigued with the exertion. When 1 had cleared the room we replaced the body upon the bed, and shortly after I summoned the servants alledging their master was dead. Nothing could be more successful. I be- came possessed of the whole of his property. * A woman of the name of Riler was executed for robbing a soldier in Great Wild- street.— H. G. B. ( To be continued). The system has of late been carried to such an extent by which simple people have been bamboozled out of their money, through the dodges of the rascally keepers of such places as Mock Agency Offices, that we have this week chosen to descant on the doings of such scoundrels. The only means by which the unwary can be saved from tum- bling into the pits so skilfully dug for them by these fellows, is by exposure on the part of the public press, and there is no reason why The Town, in fulfilling its mission, may not pursue its course with as much— nay more— immediate advantage to its general rea- ders. than the heavier priced, and duly stamped diurnal papers. These offices are most in the city, though a few are to be found at the west- end, and in many instances tney wear at first sight such a genuine air of business and respectability, that it becomes' no wonder that the young and inexperienced, are easily duped out of their cash. The Times newspaper is the medium through which the nn- wary are generally gulled. Specious advertisements promising situations tor douceurs, some, to secure which, it is necessary to deposit a certain sum varying from £ 5 to £ 50. Others, suppo- sed to emanate from large houses, needing canvassers or collec- tors, when as money to some amount will pass through the hands of the party engaged, a cash deposit must be lodged with the proprietors. Now the public— or at least that portion of it looking out for situations, should learn that respectable men never adopt the practise of selling situations under any circumstances, and most certainly, responsible firms never require cash deposits of £ 20 £ 30, or £ 50. ' In most bona fide engagements of the latter character, per- sonal references and security are deemed sufficient, but where the situation is one of very great responsibility, the guar- antee society affords the best surety, and the most generally re- ceived. It is worthy of mention that The Times should receive so many advertisements of an equivocal character. There can be little doubt but the offers of transfer for cash iu Government situations is, in the great majority of cases all humbug; but again, the offers to buy such situations are genuine, though a sale would be an il- legal act on the part both of vendor aud purchaser. Yet are the columns of The Times crammed with such matter. An expose of these Mock Agency Offices had lately occurred" in Town, in two quarters, Brownlow Street and Kmgsgate Street Holborn. There was au office lately in each street, and the scoundrels alter plucking their victims most completely, not disdaining the half- crowns of poor servant girls, and seizing with avidity on the ten, twenty, and even fifty pouud notes, of the green- horns of a richer caste, seeking employment— shut up their shops, and bolted forthwith, in all probability only to practise their nefarious schemes in a neighbourhood less used up. J& ottmi to tEomapontifnts. OUR SuNDKRLANn CORRESPONU BNT will perceive we have availed our- selves of his communication, with which, however, it was neces.- ary to take some liberties. Shall be happy to hear a^ ain from the same qi arter. S. ( Manchester)—" We have not time to reply privately to al our corres- pondents. but we thank you for your offer which our arrangements compel us to decline. B.— A communication waits you at our office. MulRLANn.— Hoot awa' mon, ye canna eipeect us to insairt sic a speecimen o'poetry. Dinna fash yoursel'wi' vairse, try honest prose; ye're nae Burns. CURRV shall hear from us privately. RAFPOLER.— Beyond our province. Write to Professor Chambers. Five shillings worth of postage stamps. ESTRELLA M. S.— We * ill endeavour to send our correspondent that which she desires, but anent the gloves we aie al'raid we cannot assist her. E. M. S. will see what we deeiu necessary to subdue. H r communications - will always receive immediate attention, but we are over- ruu with poetry. ANTI- BILIOUS.— You are mistaken. L. M. ( Birmingham)— We are perfectly aware of the great curiosity aroused by our late reports of THE GOSSIP CLUB, but we cannot take upon our- selves to introduce you, or any one else. Vou are wrong about Mr Snoddles, he is NOT the younger brother of the Dan of Heretord. X. N. P.— Follow your own inclination, we have nothing to do with such matters. FANNY L.— We never violate confidence. Write to Professor Chambers. D. F.—' Do we like dark or fair women best ?' What a pump you must be to ask such a que- tion and expect us to give any but a general opinion upon the temperaments. We have worshipped at every shrine, and our players were as sincerely breathed when on our kn- es belorj a fair haired, blue eyed saint, as to any dark eyed daughter of the south. RUBY.— Yes. LANARK.— Too coarse for our columns. Subdue your fancy and let us hear again. We can accept no continuous articles, .. ach tale inuit be complete in itself when sent by a casual correspondent. A CONSTANT REAOER writes as follows : ' Sir,— In your artie'e oftnisweek, ' How is your daughter,' I am glad to find you have sligotly touched upon ' tight lacing.' I am convinced that if you were to write a few a tides on the subject vou would be doing good service to numberless girls. I happen to; be acquainted with one who, heedless of all t can say to ihe contrary, laces her stays very tight all the day, and not content wilh that, when she goes to bed, laces them still tighter and sleeps in them. The consequence is that she has a waist on y eighteen inches in circumference, and is never thoroughly well, and this I know is very far from being a common case. A word or two from you would have a beneficial effect, and your clever artist could much assist. I have heard that there was a small book published on the subject some two or three years since. Can y iu tell the title' and where it is to be bought?— I am, Your Constant Reader.' We do not know the work inquired for. ( Several communications stand over until next week.) ALL THE SAME. A Frenchman stopping at a tavern, tsked for Jacob. ' There is uo sucli person here,' said the landlord. " Xis not the person I want," sure, but the beer warm wid de poker.' ' Well,' answered mine host,' that is flip.' ' Ah, yes, sare, you are in de right; I mean Philip!' THE LADY ARTIST. ' Ah,' said a mischievous wag to a lady acquainianoe of an aristocratic caste,' I perceive you have beeu learning a trade.' ' Learning a trade!' replied the lady, indignantly,' you are veiy much mistaken.' ' Oh, I thought by the look of your cheeks you had turned painter.' The lady waxed wrathy, and the wag sloped. A GOOD CHARACTER. 1 Mr. S- -, is your customer B- • a man tobe trusted?' trusted for ever ; he ' I know of no one more so. He is to be never pays.' A QUESTION INDEED. The following question is said to have created tremendous ex- citement before the Hardscrable Debating Institution :—' What is the difference betweeu there being conscience enough iu all wo- men, and women enough in all conscience ?' After three weeks' discussion, the president declared, ' there was a difference, but wheiein it consisted he was quite uncertain.' THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD. In a certain benighted part of the country may be seen on the outside of au humble cottage the following inscription in large gilt letters : ' A seminary lor young ladies.' This was, perhaps, too abstruse for the villagers, as immediately underneath there is added, in rude characters: Notey beney— allso, a galls skoll.' T H E TOWN. AFTER. OF THE GOSSIP CLUB. Snoddles' proposed supper of tripe and onions on the table guests assembled ourselves included. Jones, the landlord, a small and insignificant person seldom seen, is on this occasion discerned in the rear of Mrs. Jones, with a white napkin, a dish of mashed potatoes and a considerable quantity of shirt collar. Mr. Waggles turns up his cuffs in workmanlike style as he is about to take the chair. Snoddles. If so be, I'm allowed Mr. Vaggles to suggest— Mr. Waggles, ( soothingly, and with great patience). Now, my good sir, don't! you did very well last week, in proposing this little— Snoddles. Harmonic meeting, sir ? Mr. Waggles. Well, I hope it will prove one, though it is not what I was going to call it. I say don't destroy by any ill- timed suggestion, the favorable impression you've already created. Snoddles. I von't, Mr. Vaggles, I never destroys nothink, not even vaste physic, for I always makes my mother take any over- plush of draughts and pills; I only proposes Mr. Chairman, as ve are ' onored on this ere occasion with the presence of a distinck- vished character, ve should ask him to take the wice. MR. TOWN, vill you condescend to face Mr. Vaggles ? Mr. Vaggles, vot is the size of the impression vich you've pleased to say I've created ? ( The proposition that we should face our esteemed friend Waggles being received with uproarious cheering, we reluc- tantly complied with the general desire amidst long continued cheers, which had hardly subsided, when a small voice icas heard to cry, ' My eyes, ai i't the tripe a soiling!) ( If came from the landlord. Mrs. Jones, nearly annihilated him with a glance). Mr Waggles. This I think is tried. Fried Mr. Striggles? Striggles. Thank you, I confess I am rather superstitious, and have a natural objection to commence any undertaking on the fried eh? ( Friday). Sharp. Expecting, of course, the fried eh ? to be done brown. ( A general groan, after which, the wretched delinquents were called to order). Snoddles. I am afraid, MR. TOWN, you aint good teeth— least- ways I aint ' eard o' no bites nor snarls of yours lately— I recom- minds the biled. ( As we don't like chewed india rubber, even with the addition of milk and onions, we declined the proffered delicacy and got on in our own way). Mrs. Jones. I hope, gentlemen, you like the tripe. (' excel- lent, excellent).' Jones. I knows it was well oleaned, gents, because that was my job. Mr. Waggles. My dear Mrs. Jones, have the kindness to smo- ther your good man, or throw him down stairs, or drown him in the three ale. ( Mrs. Jones smiles on Mr. Waggles, and the land- lord in a state of nervous trepidation, quits the apartment). Sharp. Mysterious robbery and death that, sir, at Clapham, the other day. Mr. Waggles. Ah ! I wonder what will be the result. Red- nosed Man. What was it ? I havn't seen the papers the last few itays. Striggles, ( slightly inebriated). That's no loss. Red- nosed Man, ( savagely. Why not, sir ? Striggles. Because if you are not deep re( a) d, I'll be shot if your nose isn't. Red- nosed Man, ( on his legs). Say that again, you rascal, and I'll job your eye out with the fork ! ( A small storm, effectually calmed, however, by the Chairman and ourselves). Mr. Waggles. A toast, gentleman, that I am sure will restore harmony to the meeting. 1 Success to tbe Gossip Club,' ( duly honored). Sharp. To return to the Clapham case; it appears that a gen. tleman named Maddle, on his return from church last Sunday, found his house plundered, and his housekeeper lying dead on the floor, but without any outward signs of violence ; it is a strange atfair. Mr. Waggles. Very shocking. There was another in Drury Lane. Donovan tbe prize- fighter, threw his wife out of the sec- ond- floor window, and she was nearly killed on the spot. Snoddles. Veil, Mr. Yaggles, I'm sure these ere horribles aint amusing at supper— together vith the tripe I got, vich aint done, my stomick is quite turned. Sharp. The fried is quite dried up, if you want things well done— I call It spoiled. Red- nosed Man ( quite drunk). Why, you all said just ( hiccup) just now, before you had filled your hungry maws everything was ' excellent, excellent,' ( hiccup). Striggles, ( in the same state, and shaking hands with his late enemy) So they did, so they did, the oeggars have had enough. Snoddles. Mr. Vaggles, I purtest again this ere— beggars is unparliamentary— beggars is— Mr Waggles. Si- ilence ! Mr. Snoddles. Sit down, sir, you're drunk ! Snoddles. Yell, did you ever hear the like o' that ? I amt a going to stand no nonsense, and I vont sit down. Ulloa! Who vos that shied a biled ' ingon in my eye ? If you please Mr. Vag- gles— Mr. Waggles. Si- ilence ! Mr. Snoddles. Gentleman, another toast, fill hi^ h your glasses, and take the time from me: Now, then, gentleti en, with honors. THE TOWN ! and long life to it. Hip! Hip! Hurrah! One cheer more, Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! [ Shall we give you, gracious reader, the speech in which we returned thanks, and dilated at length on our present success, our hopes for the future, and onr earnest endeavours at all times 1 No 1 we detest egotism, and must entreat your mercy. This we may say, it was a late, or rather an early hour when we departed from The Gossip Club, and as truthful chroniclers we feel bound to add, that we last saw Mr. Striggles and the Red- nosed Man, very far gone indeed, and weeping on each other's shoulders ; Mr. Sharp in the arms of the monthly nurse, who had been sent to fetch him home to Mrs. S. and the twins; Mr. Snoddles witli his liead over a basin, in which we don t think lie was washing his lace; aud Mr. Waggles the Chairman, with a woman's nightca| on his bald head, kissing Mrs. Jones, the landlady, behind the door.] LEAVES FROM THE UNPUBLISHED OF A FOOTMAN. DIARY he wonder he not kic me in that part of my plush which takes the chair. For what omripotent and purspiring love? for what, and hecko answers,' I should like to no 1' Hall nite long, Mary, the ousmaid, was flittin about my bed, and cook with the brord part of her postcrial sittin on my buz- zum. But to assend from the eye flites of pottery to hevery- day prose. I mene I had dremcs— swete potterical vishuns of Mary overin about my piller like a hangel in a caliGoe nitegownd, honly hall the hangels that ever I seed was karved ones, with wings and eads, and nothink to sit upon, whearby as they had nothink behind, they could have had nothink before, which was necessary to kiver, and didn't nede no nite gownds at all. The delusion to cook was not that her lateral was railly on my chest, for if it had been I would have pinohed it well, tho' it is of a tite and drumlike karioter, I would have tryed, nevertheless. Sbe was the nite mair. Mem : to hete no more chease for supper. Shall give warnin immegiate, if it continu. Hopenin drawin- room shuters is not my wurk, but ousmaids must repostulate on the pint. Brekfis after bootes, which if their is no boy kep to clene, shall leve. This and nives are disgustin. I have no patients with peple purtendin to kepe footmen, whicl they can't trete like gentlemen, and find in pages for skrubs. Wt are the same hai baristors^ nd wants our junivors. Is eddycashun in this liage of empruv- ment to go for nothing? Wean like meddicle men and before we ari meddicle, was ap- prentises. A page is a apprentis. Miss Arerbellai is a booty, bechuxt her and the ous- maid my mind is on rax. To the former I have never yet diskiv- ered my mind, the last named loves me no dowte, but many as sakrifised themselfs to tor- tins, why not me to booty and gold rebined? It are a kevestion. ' To- by, or not toby ?' Morninsasushel in doors, after which circumam- bulated after mis- sus to the fashun- able lounges, and wile sitted on the formes owtside the shopps in Regent Street, watched the carriges and cumflected on the wanities of this wicked wurld. Their was a tear in my eye when on reching ome I see Miss Arerbellar— she look at me swete or my hart deceaves me— Are Mary, what will become of you. Will you go off the Monyment or Waterlew Bridg, or be a femile sayler ? Diner, and that eavenley gal so lovely that I long to kiss her before her father, and boldly declair my haft'ecshun and win her, and ware her before them hall. Peas bizy hart, down striggling feelins, down! Evenin partey, Mauey come, and maney go, tuk several shil- lins and four harf crowns from gentlemen that leve, but wat's harf crowns and shillins to a mind disesed. Ten o'clock, saw Miss Arerbellar alone, and carryed away by my feelins, declared the pashun that desumed me. She say nothink— a momunt, and I thot she laughed, another, and she was gone. Twelv o'cloc, partey over and hall my opes. Master, this min- nit guv me my wages, and a month over, to go to nite. He say Veil last Vednesday vos a veek, that Villiam Vatkins and his Vife vent from Vhitecbapel to Vest Vycombe, in a vonoss- shay, all over vicker and vire- vork. Veil they got to the corner of Vest- street, Mrs. Vatkins said,— ' Vy, Yilliam, you've bin and left the vhip be'ind.' So avay they vent back to Vhitechapel for to fetch the vhip; and Vatkins vhipped, and vhipped, and vhipped, and all be could do he couldn't get the ' oss out of a valk. And it vos vet veather, and the vind vhistled; but vhether it vos the vhistling of the vind, or the vet veather, I von't say; but von it vos; and it vhisked Villiam's vig off into a can of vbite- vine- vhey, varm. ' Veil I' says Villiam,' I vonder vhat in the name of Vonder ve shall ' ave next?' A TRUNK- MAKER residing at Newport is a New port man; when he manufactures a valise, that is a new portmanteau. PROFESSOR CHAMBERS'S THREE SECRETS.— SECRETS OF MARRIED HAPPINESS; addressed to tlie Barren, the Potent, and the Impotent. A Medico- Philosophical work. Post free, Is. • 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.— Pennv Pnnctl. THE PROFESSOR'S RECIPES and REMEDIES.— Tbe following pieces of valuable information will be forwarded on the receipt of postage stamps for each Secret to the amount named.— J THE TOWN TONIC; or, Next Day's Restorative ; the only escape from the effects of drink. Price 2s. LIQUID HAIR DYE. To aid the appearance of youth, and remedy the defects of age. Price 2s. 6d. INSTANT CUliE 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. T. Hicks, 84, Holywell- street, Strand. TO COUNTRY BOOKSELLERS & NEWS- AGENTS. THE TRADE are requested, should they find 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 prica 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. THE LADIES' TELL- TALE. Originally published at £ 1 10. Price 2s. 6d per post. THE CONFESSIONS OF A LADY" S MAID, a picture of fashionable passion and seduction. Price 2s. 6d. post free ' THE SWELL'S NIGHT GUIDE through London, Edited by the Lord Chief Baron, 3s. 6d. post free. MYSTERIES 01' VENUS— Lessons of Love: or, the Adventures of Kitty Pry— five plates, 5s. 6d., post free. WOMAN of PLEASURE, coloured plates, 5s. 6d., post free. GENESOLOGY OF WOMEN, Sixty- three coloured Engravings, post free, 5s. MEMOIRS OF MISS F H , coloured plates, postfree, 5s. PHYSIOLOGY OF MAN, coloured Plates, post Iree, 3s. THE SILENT FRIEND, Twenty- six coloured Plates, post free, ;) j. ARISTOTLE'S CELEBRATED MASTER- PIECE, 3s. 6d HARRIETT WILSON, 5s. 6d. post free. AMOURS OF LORD BYRON, 4s. 6d. post free. THE SECRETS OF NATURE Revealed, 2s. 6d. post free. COAL- HOLE SONGSTERS, Is. each, post free, LESSCWS FOR LOVERS, only 3s., post free; originally published at BACHELOR'S ALBUM, ten splendid coloured plates, post free, 2s. Od. TIT- BITS FOR GENTLEMEN, six racy plates, a la Fransais, post free, Is. BEFORE AND AFTER, two beautiful plates, from Hogarth, 6d., post free. THE MEDICAL ADVISER, by Dr. De Roos, coloured plates i lies 2s. 6d post free.—" The best work on the subject"— Public Press. 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 lor any Works directed to be sent to Post Office GOOD TIMEi S QUEER TUHES J J 0) W M T ^ P SSS EVERY- BODY'S TIMES!!!! On SATURDAY, MAY 25th, I § 50, wilt be published, to be continued Weekly, Price One Penny, So, 1, of " THE TIMES WE LIVE IN;" An original and hisrhlv Illustrated Mirror of J Jin original and highly Illustrated Mirror of WE E „" WW « R H- II AS BEFORE Printed and published by W. WINN, 34, Holywell- street, Strand, where all communications are to be addressed. Sold at all Booksellers, Railway Stations, and Steam Boat Piers.