r * QAC M A3QU EM ) TREMOR ME. No. 57. PARTS ], 2, 3, and 4, NOW READY. Each Part may be sent, per Post, by attaching Six Stamps; or sent, direct from the Office, for Eighteen Stamps PUBLISHED WEEKLY. Price Id.— per post 2d. For remote parts, Single Copies may be sent direct from the Office, for 2 Postage Stamps, or 26 Stamps per Quarter. THE PAINTER AND THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER. BY AMBROSE HUDSON. Lucy Manners was neither a brunette, nor a blonde, but she was a very pretty girl, nevertheless, with large hazel eyes, a pair of pouting lips that looked burning to be kissed, and the most vo luptuous graceful little figure in all the world. Simple seven- teen, she was bursting into womanhood, innocent and beautiful. Such was the parson's daughter of the little semi- fashionable town of L in Hampshire. Now one autumn, not many years ago, came to these parts a good- looking young portrait painter, named Ashtun. Charley Ashton— so his friends always called him— was soo.. run after to his own pecuniary advantage by the Dons and Dowagers of the neighbourhood, for in addition to being pleasant and gentleman- like, he had a happy knack of catching a likeness, while he threw i nto his picture at the same time, no inconsiderable share of ar- tistic flattery. Charley was thriving, but Charley was not content. He had seen the parson's daughter, and iallen violently in love with her, as, indeed, the probability is, gentle reader, if you are of Charley's temperament and mine, you could not have helped doing your- self, under similar circumstances. The puzzle, for a long time was, how to get an introduction. Our artist visited at many houses both within and without the town, being a desirable guest who could smoke and drink any given quantity with the men, seasoning the same with a fund ot amusing anecdote, or sip tea, or sing sentimental songs, or talk • gossip' with the women. Still, confound the thing! at none of these houses did Charley meet Lucy Manners, though he knew she went somewhat into society, and he was therefore, for some while fain to content himself with an occasional glimpse of her sweet face and ripening form in her walks, and as much respectful gazing as he could accomplish during the prosy sermon of her highly respectable pulpited father on Sundays. At length fortune favored the painter. One morning, the card of the Rev. G. Manners was handed to our hero as he sat at his easel. He jumped up, and very nearly embraced his landlady— who was red- rimmed eyed, wore a front, and owned to sixty— in the pleasureable excitement of the moment. The old woman started back with a ' Lard Measter Ashton,' and Charley recover- ing h. s composure said as clearly as he could,' Show the gentle- man in.' And the gentleman came iu. But he wasn't alone. No, not a bit of it. There was Lucy on his arm, blushing and peeping at Charley under her long lashes, and looking prettier than ever. Heaven forgive the poor fellow, the thoughts and wishes that flashed through his brain, and fluttered about his heart, and dan- cingly thrilled all his frame, they were perfectly natural, and— my old excuso— would have, served us in the same way. Tne parson told the artist that having heard of the latter, he was desirous that he should paint his daughter's portrait. Miss Manners was a great favorite with her auut, whose birthday was approaching, and the ' picture in little ' of her fair niece was deemed an appropriate present on the occasion. Our artist doubted not but the idea had originated with Lucy, and in his heart thauked her sincerely for it, at the same time Lucy did not deserve entire credit on the score of mere family duty or affection, because if truth most be told, the admiration of Charley Ashton had not escaped her notice. Seventeen was pleased, seventeen saw, seventeen reciprocated ; in a word, they were lovers ere they had spoken to each other. There were several sittings for that portrait, but though Lucy and Charley were never left a moment alone on theso occasions, the young gentleman managed to find out where his inamorata did visit, and procured introductions for himself accordingly. Thus, they often met abroad, and there was the best under- standing in the world between the youthful and romantic pair, when one day an old lady gossip of the town, took the parson seriously to task about the matter. What on earth could he mean by throwing away his beautiful and accomplished daughter upon an itinerant canvas- dauber ? Such is the disrespectful tone in which old women and men too, sometimes, speak of the followers of the Arts and Literature. The parson was surprised, looked a little silly, and owned he ludn't thought of such a climax. What was he to do? It was the first occasion lie had been so trepanned, but Lucy and some young friends had persuaded him that very evening to invite some people to music and a dance at the parsonage— he was never very straight- laced, he liked to please his daughter, and— Charley was invited! He must come now! well— let him in and break the matter off next week ; it could not have gone very far. It should be so. I think that little party was the pleasantest I ever was at. There were several very pretty girls with very nice voices, and very springy waists, who waltzed capitally, though the parson, said he would not allow waltzing, and then the drawing- room was on the ground floor, and led out through the study into the pleasant garden beyond, and as we got warm with dancing, it was monstrous satisfactory to escape with our partuers into the cool air, and talk about the moon, or chase one another round the gooseberry bushes. Lucy Manners and Charley Ashton were the pride of the rooms. I never saw her look so pretty, as flushed from the dance, her lover led her out to the little lawn, and it struck me,— though AND OFF. I T H E TOWN. I might have been wrong— that lie had his aim round her waist as they stepped over the threshold. Slowly and whisperingly they walked in the direction of the picturesque churchyard— into which indeed you step immediately after leaving the garden of the parsonage, and crossing a little rustic bridge that abuts. It was a glorious night, and the stars came out to look upon us, and the genial August air played about our brows, and cooled though it chilled us not. An hour must have passed before the return of Charley and the parson's daughter, and the old gentleman I saw was fidgetty, for there were many enquiries. At length they came, Charley ail smiles, but Lucy saying she had caught a cold she thought. She was asked to dance, but excused herself on this plea, and there was almost a damp thrown upi n the evening in consequence. At length, on being much pressed by her father, she stood up for a quadrille with young Colchicum the surgeon, and— but how can 1 relate the sequel ? Among that quiet country party playing propriety in the par- sonage at L , — for such we were if we did waltz and talk nonsense— loud indeed was the laughter that broke upon the ear as Lucy crossed the room, and on the back and broader part of her white muslin dress behind, was discerned as though printed iu moss- green ink— OT DEKCAS yromem ehT fo . SELYTS N H 0 J , nwoT siht fO • c& ,. c& deiD Poor Lucy ! when somebody whispered the cause of laughter she fainted, but it was in the arms of Charley Ashton. The par- son did not carry out his intention of forbidding the match, for he gave his consent most unaccountably on that very night. Ashton, who is now an eminent painter iu town, and an R. A. during his occasional visits to the parsonage at L , looks with peculiar pleasure at the low convenient flat grave stone of John Styles, and never forgets as they pass to pinch the arm of his wife, who for some reason or other, invariably blushes and averts her head. They are happy. May they long continue to be so, for their errors are few, and though may have erred— as who has not ? ' twas in the holiest cause— the cause of love ! RECOLLECTIONS OF A RAKE; OK, MY ADVENTURES BETWEEN FIFTEEN AND TWENTY. ( Concluded.) ON AND OFF. ( See Engraving.) Our artist has this week presented us with a sketch of the pet of the Coryphees, as she appears when delighting the public' on,' and afterwards in her own more genuine character, bandbox in hand, plodding her way ' off.' There is no class of persons about whom the world knows less, thou « b it affects ' with nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,' to be fully informed on the matter than the characters, habits and pursuits of the ballet- girls, dancers generally, and the whole tribe of ill- used, much- abused, and under- paid feminine hangers on, of our great metropolitan theatres. There are more degrees to be taken in a theatre than a college and the Professors of the Light Fantastic are as exacting as Proc- tors, with this difference, that the former know best what steps to take. The heroine of our front has evidently distinguished herself to a certain extent. It may be her lot to be the principal of a group of three, aud while the primiere danseuse— ihe stur. of the dicer tisement— retires for breath behind a canvass rose- tree, our ' pet' is for five bounds, a whirl in the air, half a dozen leg flings, a drop on the toes, and a final resting on one for ten seconds, the centre of attraction. Her forty muslin petticoats have literally had their swing, and she of the thigh- padded silk fleshings, subsides again into a nobody, though she congratulates herself with the thought that there are others considerable worse off than herself, as she glances at the very pink- legged, bony- bodieu, eighteen- pence- a- night back figurantes. That Coryphees, as a class arc immaculate we arc not prepared to avouch, but tliis we. will aver: taking justly iuto consideration, the dangerous atmosphere of ( littery and falsehood which they continuously breathe, the scenes of temptation that surrond them, and the exaii pies of aristocratic profligacy to which they are necessarily witnesses, it is surprising how many there are w. lio mirabile dictu! despite the pernicious influence above, about them and on every side, yet remain virtuous daughteis and honor- able wives! Happy are we to say that such instances are less rare than the world gives credit to these poor daughters of Terpsichore. AMUSEMENTS FOR THE PEOPLE This great metropolis, with its two millions and a half of pop- pulation, and with an amount of public, municipal, and private wealth, that would almost buy up all the other capitals in the world, has only two exhibitions for the people,— the Museum aud the National Gallery. There are, indeed, certain places accessi- ble by ticket— an arrangement expressly intended to shut out the public ; there are also one or two small collections into which good coats and fine linen are admitted on one or two days iu the week, Monday, of course, not being one of them ; but take an artisan out of his workshop, or a clerk from his office, set his wife by his side, and put his children before him in their Sunday's best, and they may traverse London east and west, north aud south, without seeing one open door, or one open gate, or oue flight of steps, that is not a mockery, or one portico, that does not lift up its entablature in vain. Nay, throughout these hun- dreds of miles of streets there is scarcely a place where our wea- ried pleasure- hunters may sit, or even stand, without being liable to hear the watchword of their country—' Move on,'— excepting only the National Gallery and the British Museum, the alpha and omega of our public exhibitions. ONE Of THE SMITHS. The late James Smith, one of the authors of ' Rejected Ad- dresses,' had an office in a large house in Austin Friars. How- ever, another James Smith taking chambers in the same building, considerable confusion arose, from the letters of each falling into the hands of the other. They met accordingly to remedy this inconvenience, and it was agreed that the only resource was, that either should take chambers somewhere else. The question then WHS, which. ' No'hmg can be more easily decided,' said he. ' You came last ; and, as James the Second, you ought tu ab- dicate.' ' I'll let you off this time,' as the horse said to the cockney at tbe Easter hunt. According to a Chinese notion, and it is not a very bad one the soul of a poet passes into a grasshopper, because the latter sin^ s till it starves. ° ' Pa,' said a Devonshire boy, ' what is punctuation ?'—' It's the art of putting the stops, my child.' < Then I wish you would go down in the cellar and punctuate tbe cock of the cider barrel as the cider is running all over the floor.' We fled as fast as our legs would permit, but there were little hopes of escape, the neighbourhood being aroused, and the far- ther we went the more constables joined in the chase. Jack and myself were running together at the speed, of an express, when suddenly we saw stretched across our path, two of the 1 gentle- men in blue,' with arms extended and staves in hand. We marie desperate trial to ' dodge' them, and I succeeded, but poor Jack iu doing so caught his ' brainbox ' against one of the extended staves, and down he went. I did not dare wait a rescue, so I proceeded onwards, up one street and down another, till I fancied myself secure. I listened, and not hearing the sounds of feet, slackened my pace, and took a little breath, for I was dead beat. Taking the most, seclnded turnings I now walked slowly on, to endeavour, if possible, to get securely to my own home. Passing the end of a street I heard sounds of a great disturbance, thinking it was a fresh chase, away I went again at tbe top of my speed, and on turning another cor- ner I rushed into the arms of a man. ' I'tn completely exhausted so take me,' I said, but instead of finding it a policeman as I expected, it was my friend Fred, and he in his turn at first had made the same mistake as I had. I asked if he knew how many were taken, he replied, he believed all excepting ourselves. While we were talking, another fellow came rushing towards us, who, we discovered to be a friend of ours belonging to the other party. He informed us that they had deliberately stood before a house and commenced smashing all the windows in it, but a body of police coming up, they had taken five out of the seven, including their leader ' Bob,' the other one who had esca- ped he believed had got home safe. Fred had fortunately the key of his lady love's apartments in his pocket, and thither we went for concealment. In the morn- ing we talked over our plans, hut ' conscience making cowards of us all,' dared not trust our beads from beneath the roof we were under. Fred's lady, however, went to the hearing of our companions before the magistrates, and brought us back the news that they were remanded for a week, and warrants issued for our appre- hension, heavy ba 1 only being accepted for them. This decided us at once— as soon as it was night- fall we left the house, and taking the road to London trudged on till morning, when we took the train at an obscure station on the line. We reached the me- tropolis by the middle of the day, and Fred wrote to his mistress, who was to inform us how affairs were going on. The two principal attorneys of the town were engaged against them, but as our companions had succeeded iu engaging one of the most eminent London Barristers, we hoped they would not be severely dealt with. Money, fortunately, was not wanting, and the principal of the police witnesses were spoken to in GOLDEN words. Tbe day of remand arrived, and after a lengthened hear- ing, the magistrates could not arrive at evidence sufficient to commit them, but heavy flues were levied on all, with the informa- tion, that the magistrates were sorry they could do no more. Af- fairs having taken so favorable a turn, a solicitor we app ied to, advised us to give ourselves up. We did so, but we managed our witnesses, and, of course, they oould not swear to our iden- tity, but merely suspected us. We escaped with a severe repri- mand of two hours duration. This put a stop to such foolish pranks, and so far answered its end, though it did not punish us as we, perhaps, deserved. My father having done all in his power to screen me in this instance, that his son might not disgrace his name by being con- veyed to a prison, a. fter all proceedings had stopped, said ' Sir, you must leave this town.' I bowed to his decision, as in fact I was truly repentant, and wished to leave the sccne of my temp- tations, and be the man I might. My father was not long in making his decision, aud in a few days I was again iu the metro- polis, whither I had been sent out of the reach of temptation. It may be supposed by some that this was a delusive thought but no. My father was a man who had seen life in all its and he knew how much easier it was for a young man not particularly steady, to screen at least his name from disgrace in a place like Loudon, than in a Provincial Town, where seen and known his very thoughts almost became the talk of the gos- sips. Loudon was the place, aud my father knew it, for it is little of life a young man, a stranger to the place will see, unless taken by the hand by a ' man upon town,' acquainted with every nook and cranny of tbe world's metropolis. At tbe age of nineteen years and five months, I came to Lon- don to reside, for the first time. A steady going old fogle was my governor— who, having seen himself in bis younger years ail that a man cold see, had resolved that t he next generation should not profit by his experience. Up to Every move, excuses with hiui wer; of no avail, for knowing he himself had ' tried the same thing on' years before, even our appearance in the world, before we spoke, he would tell us the very lie we intended to concoct. Thus from necessity, not from choice, I at length became steady, and after six months had passed over my head, my father finding me going on so promisingly,' caine up' to London, and ' c urn- down ' with the dust pretty freely— so lar so good, and for about the first time in our lives we agreed upon one point. Receiving an excellent character from my governor, for intelligence and so- briety ; to show me a good example, they cracked half a dozen bot- tles between them and both got jolly drunk, deciding whether it would be advisable for me to ioiu the hospitals at once, or whe- ther on the other hand, it would not be better to keep me out of the reach of tempfation for another year or so. The point argued pro and con—- pro gained the tiay— and called into their presence they informed me their decision with a thickness of speech, and eyes half closed, plainly showing these two sober old gentle, uen bad been going slightly astray from the doctrine they preached. Jtteader, it now wanted but a month to when I should attain the age of twenty, so I must shortly hid you adieu, merely relating one little circumstance before that time, which, perhaps, vou may feel interested iu. There were two months before me, ere one of the hospitals which I shall not name, would own me as a student. During this period, my time was mostly unemployed, and I amused myself in seeing what I could do in a quiet way. One afternoon I took a walk in Hyde Park, admiring the beau- ties in carriages aud on toot, who thronged there. Walking on, carelessly glancing at all who passed, a splendid equipage, drove by me, in which was seated a beautiful girl with a profusion of dark ringlets flowing over her exquisitely rouuded shoulders. My eyes were irresistibly attracted towards her, for surely I had seen that face before. The carriage drove by so quickly that I had not time to bestow a second glance, but on looking round saw the fair one had thrust her head out of the window and ap parently recognised me. I turned back, and walked at a quick pace in the direction she had taken, taking care the carriage should not escape me, till I found a cab, when I intended to take one and desire the driver to follow the vehicle ahead. I hid not walked far before I perceived the carriage stop, and the lady a- lighting advanced towards me. The chariot iustantly drove on at a rapid pace. I also advanced to meet her, and when again 1 saw her features, I discovered her to be Julia! Julia! my pretty gentle Julia, whom I bad neither seen or heard of so long, iij merry, kind, affectionate Julia, the only one of my mistresses I ever really loved. Yes, after a lapse of years, I was destined again to see her, when ripening into manhood I could love and be loved with a passion more cool, but more delightful. Happy, bappy moment! What tender squeezes and soft words were spoken, as we re- counted our past lives to each other. Julia's narrative extended over full two hours, as every minute's detail was extacy for me to hear. But I can inform my readers of the whole in a few brief words. She lost her husband she informed me about two years back, when having a slight pension allowed her as the widow of a Government Officer, she went to P to live with her friends. Near where she resided was the estate of a wealthy ba- ronet, who, having seen her in his rambles, and struck with her beauty, introduced himself; and by the promises of wealth aud splendour held out to her, obtained her consent to live under his protection. Thus she was when I saw her. When she had concluded, I recounted what had happened to me since she left. The baronet on this evening happened to be at- tending a debate iu the House of Commons, consequently Julia invited me to her apartments, which were magnificent in the ex- treme. Kisses, loving and warm passed between us, and it would not have required any great height of imagination on my part, to fancy myself the baronet, for though I may not have performed his duties in the Commons, I performed other duties far more pleasing which devolved upon him. It was very late before I reached home, but as my first offence in Town, it was excus- able. Julia before she consented to accompany her protecter, had very properly made him settle j£ 200 per aunum on her for life, so that whatever might betide her she was provided for. I would most willingly have instantly made her my wife, but as yet dared not for this reason. I knew she had committed herself with me when married to another, how knew I what sbe might do when my wife? I therefore resolved first to try her honesty, as my mistress, and having persuaded her to leave the baronet, took apartments for her and myself while attending the hospital My father not knowing this, was very pleased with my behaviour, and rny allowance was liberal, and without taking the little peck- adilloes with Julia into consideration, at the age of twenty I was an altered character. Now, kind reader, 1 must leave you. You have followed me in my various adventures from the age of fif- teen, and if there be anything that may not have been approved by thee, I trust thou wilt ascribe it to my youth and inexpe- rience. Another time I hope to again be able to hold converse with thee by means of this Journal, when I will endeavour more to please thee than in this instance. In conclusion, dear reader, I thank thee kindly, tor thy com- pany and attention thus far, and am thy obedient servant— CURRY. STREET ROBBERIES. Tl\ e frequent recurrence of those alarming street robberies, of which we read in the daily and weekly papers, have become so notorious duriug the last iew months, that we seriously think some means should be adopted by the police authorities beyond the mere infliction of a summary punishment by the magistrates to check their inerease. It is only about a fortnight since a gentle- mvn was completely'cleaned'of a large sum iu gold and silver, by having his pockets turned inside out; in addition to which, he was shockingly mutilated by his assailants; and last week a merchant residing at Bermondsev, was robbed of a valuable gold watch and appendages. These daring robberies, be it remem- bered, were p rpetrated in the midst of the greatest thoroughfares of the Metropolis. It is high time some strenuous exertions were made to put down this state of things, otherwise there will be no safety for respectable persons, iu pursuing their ordinary avoca- tions after dark, without risking los3 of property, or even their lives ; for the wretches who commit these depredations are in- different to results in their ruffianly assaults, especially if they meet with the slightest resistance. It is to be lamented that old and middle aged gentlemen are so easily' gulled' by the soft whisperings, and insinuating endear- ments of young prostitutes, whom they meet in the streets when returning from business, after night- fall, and that iustead of has- tening home to the comforts of their firesides, they should suffer themselves to be decoyed into retired corners, or snug doorways, finding themselves, when too late, minus watch or money, aud sometimes both, in the twinkling of an eye. Many of these old swells deserve the loss they meet with, as they do it when per- fectly sober, and when they are themselves on the look oat for a more innocent game, namely, young and unsuspecting servant girls, who happen to be taking a walk, or going on errands for their employers. These old dogs hang about the squares, and quiet streets, watching the area gates, aud wbeu they see a young female emerge from a house, they attack her with offers of gold. But where the victim of the street thieves is a drunken or lialf- drunkeii man they practise their schemes with impunity, aud the poor wretch is eased of every movable about his person; aud shou'd he resist, he is knocked down, and his clothes literally torn off him, and he is left in such a state, that when picked up by the police, — who strangely enough are seldom in time to prevent a robbery — he is a pitiable object of commiseration, and his most intimate friends would fail to recognise him. v- This system of robbery is called the ' Amatory dodge' and is worked as follows;— A young prostitute who has her male pro- tectory— frequently a returned transport— not far off, accosts a wefl- dressed man, who has been marked some minutes before, aud after a little bye- play, decoys him down some dark alley or pas- sage, and while amusing him, dexterously insinuates one liaud into the pockets of. bis ' uuwhisperables,' and secures the ' swag,' conveying it either to her own pocket, or behind her back to her • pal,' who is close at hand; and while the poor flat is delighting himself, his most accommodating companion is quietly transfer- lug his watch and chain to the clutches or her ' friend.' This done, she all at once pretends a virtuous indignation at the gentlemau's behaviour, gives a sudden scream, or some other signal, and the unfortunate speculator in woman's frailty, receives what is termed a ' bouuetter,' by having his hat liLerally smashed over his eyes and nose, or else he is floored by u slashing blow on lue lace; while the woman and her dash- man vanish from the scene, aud leave him to his reflections, or to be accommodated witn a uight iu the station house, for being found with his dress in disorder. Sumetimes the ' dodge' is worked by two prostitutes together, and whilst oue is indulging the swell cove as they call him, with a little bit of the ' amatory,' the other is tapping him for his valu- ables ; either way he generally comes off minus all he had ; and the business is managed so adroitly, that it is quite impossible 101- the victim to identify any of the gang. The police, are, generally speaking, very active in the perform- ance of their duties, but, strange to say, these daring robberies take place in or near the most public thoroughfares, where we should suppose the officers were vigilant, aud ' down ' to the tricks of these petticoat thieves. Many persons assert, boldly, that some members of the ' force ' share the plunder, to keep out of the way, but this we are unwilling to believe, and in justice to them are bound to add, we do not credit. A HINT TO THE MARRIED. We have heard of a married couple who, though they were both of a hasty temper, yet lived comfortably together by simply ob- serving a rule, on which they bad mutually agreed—' Never to be angry both together.' A father was in the habit of giving this ad- vice to his children when they married : ' Doth one speak fire, t'other with water come; Is one provoked, be t'other soft and dumb.' Why are lady's stays like an opposition railway ?— Because they reduce the lair. T H E TOWN. THE CHARGED LIFE; OR, THE REVELATIONS 01f A POLICEMAN. BY AMBROSE HUDSON. On, on I ran, as fast as my legs would carry me, and the sun, and the air, and the exercise, combined to dry my clothes. I had never thought of the direction I was about to take. I had not even provided myself as I might have done, with the means during the day of keeping awav hunger, but I had some few pieces of gold coin in my pocket, which I hoped would provide me with everything necessary both for the present and the future, by serving as small i capital to keep tue for a little time, and furnish me with the neces- sary outfit of a sailor. Very young, and wholly inexperienced, I knew not nor dreamed of, but from books and conversation, the difficulties of the outer world, and I doubted not but I should speedily reach a sea- port and there easily obtain employment and a ship. Night was closing iu ere I stopped to rest, and faint and weary I saw before me only a huge forest of which I knew not the track, or even the narne. There was fortunately a eool spring near at hand, and after I had drunk from it to quench my thirst, making of the hollow of my hand a cup, I bathed in it my head aud face, and rose refreshed. There was a buoyant spirit still within me, and trusting alone to the doctrine of chances, which, however, I did not under- stand, I chose one of the three straggling paths before me and jour- neyed onwards. My natural courage, the desire to quit for ever the castle of Fradenheim, and its doomed lord, together with that indomitable love of adventure of which I have spoken, still sustained me; but the idea of passing the night without food or other shelter, than might be afforded from the leafy branches of some old tree made my heart quake, though it could not abate, if I may so express myself, my natural devilry. The moon and the stars came out to look upon me, as I espied them through the thick spreading foilage above my head, I thought them the bright eyes of friendly angels, watching over the safety of the wandering orphan. Suddenly I perceived a twinkling lifiht in the distance that I knew must come from some house; it wore another form to that of the heavenly lamps over- head, and around me, and in the distance. At the same moment I heard the baying of the wild wolf, and I thought how happy I was to find a place of safety and of rest. I hurried on, and stumbling through strange bushes, scrambling amongst the strong underwood and occasionally falling over tho stumps of giant trees, reached the desired spot. There stood only a mean hovel, it was true, but what cared I for that, when the light was gleaming through the lattice casement and the dark smoke curled from an openiug in the roof ? I knocked loudly at the rude door, and for awhile, received no answer. There was a slieht scuffling and the sound of voices was suddenly subdued within, but there was no reply to my tap- ping. Again I knocked, and this time I shouted— " Open for mercy' 6ake; open and give shelter to apoorboy who I has lost his way.' A harsh voice answered mine— " We have no beds here; you must go further on, we are wood- men— wretchedly poor, and can give no lodgings to anybody.' ' Oh! but I can pay, If you please. I have plenty of money,' re- plied I,' only I have lost my way.' Again there was apparently a hurried consultation, but my an- nouncement had wrought a wonderful change, for the harsh voice said in reply. ' If your'e only a poor boy why you may come in', and wel- come.' The door was opened by a poor- looking woodman, with— I must confess — a very disagreeable expression of countenance, who seemed to eye me by the aid of a small oil lamp from top to toe, and be very much satisfied with his scrutiny, for he said as though he had known me a long while, and my coming in at any time did not at all matter— ' Hum 1 ah ! it is only you. We don't mind boys or men either for the matter of that, when they've got plenty of money.' Something in the man's tone or manner, or perhaps both, caused me to hestitate before I crossed his threshold, but as I did so, I heard again the baying of the wolf that had before scared me, and I made up my mind that any place must he less dangerous than I the open air in such a country. I followed the woodman who bolted again the door, and led me to his only sitting- room. His wife, who besides himself, he said, was the only body within, boasted no more prepossessing a countenance than her husband. She was a modified likeness in fainter colors, of himself, and, whereas, his natural voice was gruff, hers was sharp, the expression on his broad pock- marked, yellow face, was ferocity blended with a savage humour; hers was cunning aud treachery, and about her thin com- pressed mouth was determined ill- temper, and in her eye, a restless fire that indicated a burning thirst, like those we see in birds of prey, for blood. They offered me a seat, but their looks had almost alarmed me; however, I determined not to show as much, and in what I con- ceived to be a re- assuring one, I asked them if they could give me a supper'and a night's lodging. They eyed each other for a moment after looking at me, aud then the man drew a stool opposite me and before the log tire that was burning brightly and said— ' Harkye, my man. We are, as I think I told you but poor people. However, satisfy us that you can pay for the accommo- dation, aud we will make shift to provide you with what you want, asking no question as to who you are, and whence you come, which I dare say would be, judgiog by appearances, as unpleasant for you to answer as needless for us to enquire.' For the first time then it struck me, how strange and friendless was my condition— how much suspicion was necessarily attached to it, and I almost burst into tears ere I found a reply. Without a thought I pulled out my little purse which might contain some twenty pieces, and anxious at once to disarm suspicion— throwing the gold upon the table— I picked out two pieces and exclaimed— ' Here, my good friends, take this in return ' tis all I can afford to offer.' ' You shouldn't have done that; damn it, Ned Dawson, you shouldn't have done that! My eyes! how jolly green you were! Who'd ha' thought you'd ever have lived to be the downy cove you are,' exclaimed the interested policeman, who had twice before in- rupted the narrator. ' I am telling you,' replied Ned,' what I did; not what I should have done, what 1 was— not what I should have been. You had better let me go on, as I have gone so far. I shall soon have done.' ' Go on, Ned, go on,' cried his auditors, and Ned proceeded. ' If you could have seen the eyes of the old woman as she looked upon the gold you would never have forgetten them. I thought they would have started right out of her head, and come down upon the table, aud peered into the coins, and examined the date of each. The husband eagerly clutched the two, but I think the wife would havo demanded more there and then, only the woodman told her to bu- tle about, and see what there was for supper, and then get ready the chamber of their boy, if not sufficiently prepared for the re- ception of the gentleman, as they called me, though he supposed it was all right, for their son had only latelv come from sea— he had brought little money back with him, but his mother doted upon the fellow, and he too, of course, was glad to see his sou— he had gone to a neighbouring fair, and would net be home that night. How fortunate it was for me, I could have his bed. When I heard the good people speak this way of their son, who it seemed was in that profession to which I aspired, I felt consider- ably pleased, and when the dame began to cook some mess in a large iron- pot upon the fire, and its savoury steam came out into the room, and pleasantly regaled our nostrils, I though what a fool I had been to doubt for a moment the comfort of my quarters. After supper— to which we all three did ample justice— the wood- man produced a small flask of Dutch spirits, which he told me was a rare prize, and after drinking of it himself, recommen{ led the same tQ me, but I had never drank any before, and the first taste was enough, so I put it down again, as I thought, considerably to his dissatisfaction. He seemed in no hurry to go to bed, and would have sat talking, I fancied, all night long about wolves and robbers, but his wife npdged him several times, and I complained pf fatigue, so at last they got me a small lamp, and showed me to my tiecr- chamber. It was a very confined, dilapidated apartment, more like a large rabbit- hutch than anything else. The bed was | n one corner, there was no blind to the window, and the window itself overlooked one of the forest- paths— it could sot have been above twelve feet from the ground, though in order to get to the apartment we had as- cended some broken stairs. ' Good night,' said I, ' and thank you heartily for your hospitality; I shall sleep soundly.' ' Sound enough, I warrant you,' replied the man, as glancing at his wife he left his chamber. Some lingering doubt or presentiment induced me not to take off my clothes, but offering a prayer to heaven, I extinguished the lamp, and threw myself upon the bed. Despite my cares and fears I soon fell into a sound sleep. I imagine I might have been lying there little more than an hour, when the moon streaming on my face through the uncurtained win- dow awoke me. I thought rather, it was this at first, but it would seem the lattice opened in the centre, and not having been fastened ope half now flapped backwards and forwards occasionally, as the night- wind caught it. I listened, and heard at first an indistinct muttering in the next chamber, but putting my ear close to the thin partition I could make out the sentences I am about to repeat. ' It will make our fortunes,' said the wife. ' It will be easy enough to stab him as he sleeps and bury him in the forest.' ' Hush! speak lower, or he will hear you.' ' Pshaw ! he is over- come with fatigue. Will you do it, or must I?— think of the gold.' ' I will.' said the man,' though it goes sadly against me.' ' Fool!' replied she womau, and 1 heard po more. Noiselessly I crept to the window, and was ready to precipitate myself, when I descried a young fellow climbing, and about to enter. I stooped down so that he might not hear me, and heard him mutter— ' They tlid not expect me till to- morrow, they are gone to bed, but I can easily get in.' The speaker had evidently been drink- ing, but he raised himself without noise, as I crawled under the bed, and he softly lay down upon it. He was the woodman's only son, the young sailor that his mother doted on. He ha ' not lain there two minutes before I knew by his snor- ing that he was fast asleep. Gently jand slowly the door was opened, and without a light the woodman stole into the chamber. I saw ihe momentary gleam of a kniie which he upheld, as he averted his head from the bed, and then plunged the sharp blade into the throat of his victim. A momentary struggle, a sup- pressed gurgling, and then, all was over. The assassin had killed l) is son. He seemed to feel about the breast of tho youth, and finding not that which he sought, and feeling some instant fear, shouted to his wife, and staggered out of the room. Not one moment did I lose, but crawling from under the bed, ran to the window, and sprang out of it in safety to the ground. ( To be continued.) A COURTLY BRIDEGROOM. When Caroline of Brunswick was taken to the palace, the Prince of Wales came to her after some delay, and, having re- ceived her, turned away and called for a glass of brandy. Water was suggested, but the prince negatived it with an oath, and left the room. That vyas a trivial specimen of brutality. Worse might have been expected from a prince, who, talking of his approaching jnaxriatre with a lady he had never seen, called it'buying a pig in a poke,' and who declared to the lord chan- cellor that1 he, the prince, was not the sort of person who would let his hair grow under his wig to please his wife.' Worse might have been expectedifrom such a quarter— and worse came. On the night of the wedding, this exacting prinoe, who looked for so much refinement and courtly etiquette in his wife, reeled drunk into the bridal chamber, and fell under the trrate- ' Judge,' said the princess, talking of this occurrence in 1810 ; ' judge what it was to have a drunken husband ou one's wedding day, and one who passed the greater part, of his bridal night, under the urate where he fell, and where I left him. If any body were to say to me at this moment, ' Will you pass your lit'i* over attain or be killed?' I would choose death.' And this was said long before her troubles came! COLUMN FOR EVERYBODY ( ORIGINAL AND SELECT). A COUNTRY LYRIC. To the air of Billy Taylor. Bob Smith, he were a stout young feller, Full o' mirth and full o' glee; And werry fond he were o" a nice young ' omau, Vich in the eountry was fair and free. One day Bob's dad he came for to know it, For somebody said they vos gone hay cocking, Says he ' my lad,— haycocks is games Vich fathers is bound, ven they can, to be docking.' ' So I shall send you to London town, For all Mister Bobby you looks so meek ;' Then up came Bob to this ere city, Aud a clerk he arnt him, fifteen bob a week. Now ven his Sue found he had cut away, She vent to his guv'nor right stra^ ht down ; Says she ' Where is my true lovier ?' Says he ' I have packed him off' to town.' Then off she came to London arter him, And found him out a gent so fine, And told him the state as she know'd she vos, And how he had got her— into a line ! ' I never vill believe it, tho' I know,' says Bob, ' I was worry fond o' you Miss Susan Blocks; ' But gracious goodness! I never did no more, ' Than escort you in safety amoDg the haycocks.' ' Veil, as she said, she feared he'd have to pay Half- a- bull a veek, and sartin she was right ; For the beaks knocked him down ven the haycocks vos named, And Bob blubbered out' I am ruinated quite!' Now all young men in the far country, As are sweet on gals, vots down to the trick ; Don't go vith them haycocking pray, Lest it cost you half- a- bull per week. NATURE'S LIVERY. We have lately witnessed a great tendency to what Carlyle would call flnnkydom on the part of our old friend Nature, who is beginning to put oil her livery ot fjreen for the season that has just commenced. Her little lawns may be compared to velvet smalls, and every flower is a livery button, while tlie pastures look as if she was preparing to stuff her calves. Before the end ot the autumn we shall find Nature wearing the epaulettes of a golden harvest, which, however, will be all threshed out of her by the close of the year.— Punch. Why did the British nation place so much confidence in Lord Nelson at the battle of Trafalgar ?— Because they knew he fought with a single eye for the glory of his country. PREDESTINATION, The following is a pretty good commentary on how far people's professions sometimes a « ree with their practice:— ' Do you believe in predestination ?' said the captain of a Mis- sissippi steamer to a Calvinistic clergyman who happened to be travelling with him.—' Certainly.' ' And you also believe that what is to be, will be?'—' Certainly.' ' Well, I am glad to hear it.'—' Why?' ' Because I intend to pass that boat, ahead in fifteen consecutive minutes, if there be any virtue in pine knots and loaded safety valves. So don't be alarmed, for if the bilers ain't to bust, they won't.' Here the divine commenced putting ou his hat, and began to look very much like backing out, which the captain seeing, he observed—' I thought you believed in predestination, and that what is to be, will be.' ' So I do, but I prefer being a little nearer the stern when it takes place.' A TOAST BY A TAILOR. A man who has no bills against him belongs to the highest I order of No- bill- ity. The attorneys are moving to be relieved of expense of certificate tax. If they succeed, will letters fall from 6s. 8d. to 4s. 6d.? THE WAY THEY DO THINGS IN THE CITY. Noble Guest: I've heard it's impossible to eat turtle soup with impunity?— Alderman: I don't know, my lord. I never tried that way ; I always eat mine with a spoon. CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. An old farmer in Cumberland once called his numerous chil- dren around him, and asked each of them what he would be. The elder replied that ho would be a farmer, like his father ; the sec- ond, that he would be a sailor; the third, that he would be a dra- per, and so on. At la9t it was the turn of the youngest child to make his selection ; and he said,' Oh! I'll be an executor.' This answer excited some astonishment; and the child, on being asked for his reason, said,' Oh! an executor must be a thriving trade, for I have observed that ever since father has been an executor we have had meat every day in the week for dinner.' HIGH LIFE IN THE NEW CUT. Gentleman: What's the price of this red herring ?— Fish- monger: You shall have that one for a halfpenny, sir.— Gentle- man : Well, I've no money about me, but I can give a postage- ABSURDITIES OF EVERY- DAY LIFE. ANYBODY supposing that petitions, which in the House of Commons are ordered to be placed ' on the table," are ever read, heeded, or go elsewhere than into the waste paper office, to en- rich the underlings. A MAN having a crack in his upper leat. iers, and thinking to deceive the worid by inking his stockings through the same, when this world's opinion of his crab shells and himself is bootless. MARRYING a very pretty girl who is ' decidedly musical,' and expecting her to be able to make a pie. WEAHING moustachios, and characterising anything else as humbug ' on the face of it.' BUYING gold fish in Covent Garden Market, and thinking the said fish will live when taken home three days after purchase. TAKING a house within half a dozen miles of the sound of Bow Bell, believing because there is a garden uttaehed, that anything will grow therein, and that you may expect to see ' anything green ' but what you find in your own eye. STARTING as an author, aud not caring a rap for all the pub- lishers iu England. As an actor, professing to be indiffirent to newspaper cri- ticiem. AND as an Editor not believing in the nightmare, ! n the form of a printer's devil yelling ' Copy ! Copy !' What colour does flogging make an orphan '; yell oh.' ( yellow). - It makes him sta np, if you can oblige me with change. MORNING REFLECTIONS. Magistrate: What has brought you here, sir ?— Prisoner: Two policemen, please your honour.—' Magistrate: Then I suppose liquor had nothing to do with it ?— Prisoner : Yes, sir. They were both drunk! A young man visiting his mistress, met a rival, who was some- what advanced in years, and wishing to rally him, inquired how old he was. ' I can't exactly tell,' replied the other; ' but this I can tell you, that an ass is older at twenty than a man is at sixty.' REFLECTION OF A LONDON SIGHT- SEER. I wouldn't give two- pence to see St. Paul's— if the Dean and Chapter didn't make me.— Punch. THE A OLD GREY MARE. An honest farmer, a few miles from Dumfries, was often found fault with by his wile for staying too late in town on the market nights. At last she set out with him one day herself, and in the evening forced him home rather sooner than he wished. Accord- ingly they mounted the old grey mare— he on the saddle, and she ou a pad behind him. They rode on till they came to a small brook that crossed the road, when the mare put down her head to drink, and after being satisfied, again went on. ' Now,' said the gudewife, ' if yoil would do like the mare— when she has enough, she stops of her own accord, aud goes on; and cannot you do the same ?' ' True, gudewife,' said he,' but if there was anitber auld grey mare on the other side o' the stand, and the ane saying to the other,' Hire's t'ye, aud here's t'ye,' there's na telling when they might part.' ' My dear, what shall we name our baby ?' said Mr. Smith to Mrs. Smith the other day. ' Why, huz, I've settled on Peter.' ' Peter! I never knew a man with the simple name of Peter, who could earn his salt.' ' Well, then we will call him Salt Peter.' Spagnoletti, the other day, in speaking of his first viola player, declared that, both as a man and musician, he was most praise- worthy ; as a man, for the tonor of his conduct— as a musician, . for the conduct of his tenor. A dancing- master, in renewing his solicitations for patronage, wished to express his obligations for past favours, wheu the prin- ter made him say,' Most respectfully offers his Shanks.' T H E TOWN . H I - 1 1 ' MRS. JONES, THE LANDLADY.' THE GOSSIP CLUB. DANCING- MASTER.— Allow me, my dear. The toe a little more pointed, the knee a trifle more turned, and those very elegant legs slightly wider apart. PRETTY PUPIL'S PAPA ( in the back ground).— Harkye, Mr. Dancing Master, mind what you are about. If you begin with " a shuffle" I can see we shall end with " a cut." LEAVES FROM THE UNPUBLISHED DIARY OF A MAID OF ALL WORK. SATURDAY MORNING.— Arf past sicks. Hat it agen— that air " blessed bel o' missus's a ringin and a ringin fit to bust its biler. Ugh! ow i ates em both— there aint no differuns in there klappers honly the bel is ung— vich missus aint, and wus the luc! Cns the bel sis i, ven it riglarly voke me, so aving add my rowzer, i putts my fete out o' bed, but i makes it a rool to sleep in my stockins, vich is vnsted and black hup till Vit Menday, ven they as a vash and a change, and'gives chilblanes the go bi. Lites the kichen fire, missus a lyin hall the time long side o' master, vich vas snorin like vinkin in the turnip bedsted vere they lied, cos the logins vos ful. In corse she gos on hat me like hall the vurld not bein hup afor. Sis nutfin in hanser, honly wows in secrit to ave rewenge and meens it. Secund floor's brekfus and boots arf past siven. Found he aint no tee, and told him on it. Sayd he hadn't less than a fi ' pun note, better get a hounce, and harks missus for the munny. Missus sayd he were a wagabone she knew, cos his boots hadn't beeu sold, vich they vanted more nor a month, weren't a going to trust him no longer, and would give him notis that werry day. Got the hounce, and he got missus's cheek, tho she didii't no it. Other brekfusses has hushel. Nives to clene, herrans to fetch vich may be • ; hesily guessed. Bere hat hele- ven for missus and parlurs, has a pull ere, vich is the honly vun, gits the bere for three puns a pott in yerhonejuggs hand charges em four puns— that his logers, cos missus nos the doge, and ve has arves a pese. Boochers arter- vards to look hout for block- ers, hevry body, aint hup to that vich are bying chepe hends o' mete left on the blox. Votmete ^^^ __ i bote has hushel ^ fllMi. WW ~ . charged three I apuns a pound jjffl^ SBfctei^ ia^^^^'" ' ' lliil more to the ^ " " ^^ logers, vich mis- , I* UUHJJ>^ 8US has hallas— ^ this vith vot she cutts horf, hon the priggin sistim she don't make no bad do on. Skrubbin has hu- shel, hand five diners to get— vich got and veil habused to. Missus hallas in a temper hon a Saturday, and this von vus nor hever. Sicks tees, hall of vioh^ gott as hushel— add my hone tee and diner to, hon the kiching stares, ' cos missus add compeney. Mor bere and spurrits, vot that voman drinks in the vay o' gin hin the parlurs are wondrus. Eight okloc got hout agin for herrans, and met the bootchers yung man. He say he vill marry me, and take me out o' this ere, vich I ope he vill, but he vant me to go to the play, and supper arterwards, fust vich i aint going, ' cos i nos vot boochers is ever sins i vos sedooced, hon a bloc in Clair Market arter twelve o' night. No mor to night— one okloc jest chimed, and hall in bed excep me. Hime shure i aint going to take horf my stockins to- night, and shan't vash my fete this veke, ' cos they aint wery durty, honly a little crust round the ankles. Whu wud be a made of hall wurk? i£ oticfs to ® otre0poniEnts. E. G. F. ( Dublin)— The joke is an old one, and not quite the thing for our columns, or we should be happy to oblige. Happy to hear from you, if you can send us anything sparkling, witty, or original. A FRIGHTENED ONE is in error; we don't profess to give advice on medical matters. The most we can do is to recommend you to apply to Professor Chambers. T. O.— Will find a communication waiting him at the publishers. PARIS ( Fenehurch- street).— The sale of the work named is, we believe, pro- hibited. We cannot assist our correspondent. T. L. S. N.— We are overwhelmed with poetry, and though yours is racy enough we must decline it. Anything very short, smart and free from gross- ness we wdl insert with pleasure. FLA RENDRAG.— The preceding answer wiil apply to you, old chap. ' Our honor, Justice Shallow.' BIBO.— The fault is not ours, most worthy ; neither proprietor nor editor has been to blame. A little patience, Master Bibo, and thou shalt be satisfied. We further pledge thee our word, good Bibo, there has been no 1 mill.' A CONSTANT READER OF THE TOWN ( Staly- bridge).— We can give you no reply ; Professor Chambers might. CRUCIBLE.— Yes; we wrote the last answer you received through the medium of these columns. We have no M. S. ofyorrs by us, but shall give anything you may forward full and immediate attention. ANONYMOUS will perceive our ' dishing up' of his article in this number. A FAST COVE ( Leicester. square).— Thanks for yonr valuable— but slightlv un" grammatical— effusion. We lit our cigar with it immediately we received it, anil if you don't mind the pence, you may send again, as we can al- ways find a purpose for the paper. UNITED SERVICE.— Good fellow, we never lose our temper. Why should we? Besides it is a point upon widen we pride ourse. ves. Your indig- nation may be natural, but it is not just; you know net tbe mass of cor- respondence through which we have to wade every week. L. M. T.— In our next. ( From lack of space several communications stand over until next week.) UNPARALLELED MUNIFICENCE. Though the Gardens were closed, the Bears at the Zoological were entertained, by order of the Directors, with a liberal supply of hot- cross buns on Good Friday.— Punch. The Richmond Whig tells a pretty good story of a Virginia negro boy who professed to be dreadfully alarmed at the cholera. He took to the woods to avoid it, and was there found asleep. Being asked why he went to the woods, he said,' to pray.'—' But,' said the overseer,' how was it you went to sleep V—' Don't know, Massy, zackly,' responded the negro, ' but I ' spec I must over- prayed mysef.' A JUDGE'S BON MOT. Last week, in the Crown Court, of Wolverhampton, a jury- man, on the oath being administered, addressing the clerk, said: ' Speak up, I cannot hear what yeu say.'— Baron Alderson:' Stop; are you deaf?'— Juror: ' Yes, of one ear.'— The learned judge: ' Then you had better leave that box, for it is necessary that jury- men should hear both sides. Why is a barber the proper person to send out in search of Sir John Franklin ?— Because he is thoroughly acquainted with the poll, and knows the new short cut. Why was Jonah, in the fish's belly, like a fashionable young lady ?— Because he had more of the whalebone about him than was good for him. Why is matrimony like a tart?— Because there is just enough acid in it to make the sweets more palateable. Why is it like a cold bath ?— Because, so tar as the bridegroom is concerned, the important eventis only a smart plunge, a slight shock, and it's all over. 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 price with all the weekly and monthly periodicals, magazines, and newspapers, he making it his endeavour to deserve their support by his promptness and dispatch in collecting and forwarding their orders entire, even to the smallest articles. Cash in advance for the first two months. W. WINN, 34, Holywell- street, Strand, London. PROFESSOR CHAMBERS'S THREE SECRETS.— SECRETS OF MARRIED HAPPINESS; addressed to the Barren, the Potent, and the Impotent. A Medico- Philosophical work. Post free, Is.— ' The youthful and die 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- i ate talent; the best on the subject.— Penny Pnnch. 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 tor any WorkB directed to be sentto PostOflice The Chairman, ( our immortal Waggles), surrounded by his satellites, with pipes, grog, Sfc. Mr Striggles. ( starting to his feet). I rise, Mr. Chairman, to protest against the conduct of some gentleman or gentlemen fre- quenting this room on the evening of social converse, making a jest of our assembly, deriding the members, and holding up to public scandal, exaggerated incidents of our domestic life—(' name name).' The publication to which I allude, Mr. Chairman, since I am so loudly called upon to ' name,' is THE TOWN, a broad- sheet, which I am given to understand has an enormous sale, and therefore the offence and injury done to us become the greater. I find in last week's number, a so- called portrait of you, sir:— yes, gentlemen, a caricature of Mr. Waggles, and a base insinua- tion that I— Striggles— neglect and leave my happy home where- in Mrs. S. or— metaphorically speaking— the ' grey mare is the better horse.' Mr. Snoddles, ( bobbing up). I rises, Mr. Chairman, before I sits down— ( Loud cries of' order, order.' Mr. Sharp, ( on his legs). The honorable gentleman who first addressed the chair— I mean Mr. Striggles— is a new asso- ciate— Mr. Snoddles, ( up again). No he aint— he is a clerk, he said so, last veek. Chairman. Si- ilence, Mr. Snoddles, ( Mr. Snoddles is dragged down by the coat tails). Mr. Sharp. A new associate— not even, a member of this Club, and he protests in its behalf— he calls the very admirable likeness of our worthy chairman, ( Wagglesbows pleasantly), which last week graced the pages of THE TOWN a caricature, when all the world is recognizing it, and Waggles is becoming as another Household Word ! But why is this? Why, the gentleman owns the venom by which he is actuated. It arises from the verbatim report furnished to the distinguished Journal in question, of a piece of matrimonial diff. rence and family infelicity, in which Mr. Striggles was a principal performer. Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, I propose as an amendment to the protest of the hon- orable speaker, that we drink ' success to THE TOWN, its cause, and its corps.' ( The toast was honored enthusiastically, we returned thanhs in due course, and Mr. Sharp recovered that which he had lost on two successive evenings, combatting with Striggles, the Sallow Man, his supremacy). Chairman. A cruel outrage, gents, that committed last week near Clifton. Red- nosed Man. I didn't read it— What was it ? Chairman. A man of highly respectable appearance, called upon a lady, whose husband and servants were engaged on the farm, and under pretence of looking at the apartments, was ena- bled to offer her great violence. He tore her under- clothes al- most to ribbons— dragged her about by the legs, offered her a gold watch to consent to his wishes, and on being indignantly refused, finally tied her hands together, and during her insensibil- ity, accomplished his purpose. Mr. Striggles. I regret in the case of a fellow like that— a sav- age brute, unworthy the name of a man— that his is no longer a capital offence. Red- nosed Man. But Queen Elizabeth used to say' there was no such thing possible as a rape, and instanced it one day at Court, by taking a scabbard from Leicester, and while she kept turning it in her hand, bidding the Earl sheathe his sword. Mr. Striggles. Queen Elizabeth was a— well, no matter ; be- sides her argument only applied as long as she possessed power. Chairman. Come, come, no scandal against Queen Elizabeth if you please— our ' maiden' queen. Did I hear anybody at the other end of the room say ' Walker!' was that you Mr. Snod- dles? Mr. Snoddles. My vig, Mr. Chairman, [ I wouldn't for the vurld. Chairman. That'll do, Mr. Snoddles. What were you about to remark Mr. Striggles ? Mr. Striggles. I was thinking at that moment, who most deser- ved pity, the lady injured, or the husband, who returning to his house discovered their mutual dishonor. Chairman. That's a question for a philosopher. Mr. Sharp. No it isn't— I say the lady. Mr. Striggles. Our sympathies would first appear to be moved for her, but prove why with the greatest amount of justice. Mr. Sharp. Because after the wife's death, the husband, sup posing him to outlive her, might yet know happiness, whereas the lady, though she lived to doomsday, would always bear about her the remembrance of her wrong. Chairman So the man, Thomas Denny, upon whom was passed sentence of death at the Old Bailey, has received a respite, and it is probable that it may be commuted to a free pardon. Mr. Striggles. So I saw, by the Times of Tuesday last. Far be it from me to offer the slightest objection to the show of mercy, but it is strange in this Christian country with what perversity it is exhibited by the Home Secretary in the name of our Queen. Surely now that wretched boy and girl who were hanged at Cam- bridge on Saturday, were quite as much deserving of consideration as this man, who stabbed his child in the neck with a cobler's awl. ( Enter Mrs. Jones, bursting with intelligence'). Mr. Sharp, Mr. Sharp— it is all over I Mr. Sharp. Good gracious, you don't say so. What is it ? Mrs. Jones. Mrs. S. is put to bed with twins. Chairman. Gents. I have the satisfaction of informing you, Mr. Sharp will stand two six- pen'norths all round in honor of the occasion. ( We bolted immediately). Printed and published by W. WINN, 34, Holvwell- street, Strand, where all communications are to be addressed Sold at all Booksellers, Railway Stations, and Steam Boat Piers. [ ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL.]