PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. THE SQUIB. N?. 16.] LONDON, . SEPTEMBERS. 10, 1842. [ THREE HALFPENCE. U R artist has chosen a delightful subject for his peculiar powers of delineation— a veteran soldier escorting Ms daughter to the B^ palace of his Sovereign. How amply must this happy moment repay all the past dangers of the tented field, the scene of many privations and dangers, but, be it remembered, the first cause of his present eminence! Decorated with the honours and insignia of the brave, acknowledged one of his country's chiefest defenders, and admitted to the presence of the Sovereign it is his special duty to protect, even to death, he must feel the proud consciousness of his enviable position; it appears to us to be the consummation of all the " Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war." The fair being by his side shares in her father's honours, and prizes the name of a gallant soldier's daughter. Often, when miles separated them, have his thoughts wandered from scenes of blood to the calm home of his little treasure, and fervent have been his prayers for the safety of the dear ones of the hearth his duty called him from : and has not her voice been raised in lisping accents to implore a blessing on the absent one, fighting in his country's cause, and exposed to all the dreadful dangers of wounds' imprisonment, and death ? What must be the feelings of a wife and child, when their soul's god, escaped from scenes of savage slaughter, after an absence chequered with hopes and fears, clasps them once more within his unscathed arms, and kisses from their cheeks the sweetest tears that woman's eye can shed, or man's kindness soothe! The after- life of a soldier more than compensates for the perils of his early course. Surrounded by those he loves, honoured by his country, respected by his equals, and looked up to by all, as one who has shed his blood in the defence of their rights and liberties, calmly doth time glide away, and when at last, the " Bourne from whence no traveller returns" is reached, a glorious monument snatches his name from oblivion, and those who in after ages read his achievements, give the due meed of praise to his gallant deeds, and wish that such had been their fate, that they, too, might defy the cold forgetfulness of the unemblazoned tomb! " Pretty fair ! but look at his precious guy of a wig; you'd be a beauty in that, you would I" " Oh, never mind that; there's gloves and silk stockings ! and a splendid strong- beer- development in his jolly face: you may depend upon it he is none of your board- wages chaps." " Well, I shouldn't think he is; but see, here's another coming. That's a general, at least! There's epaulettes !" " Who do those carriages, with the captains in swords, cocked- hats, and feathers, belong to 2" " Those aint captains; those is couriers! That's French for our footmen. Bless you, they are in the civil service, as much as you and I. I say, take your hand out of my pocket, or I'll punch your head !— mind that, now !" " Where are you squeezing to 2" " I'm a'most crushed to death." " What's the good of shoving! you can't send me through the policemen, can you 2 Stand back!" " I beg your pardon, sir, but if you could, without inconvenience, transfer your wooden leg to my other foot, I should esteem it a favour, as I have no corns on that." " Nothink could give me greater pleasure, but, unfortunately, my other leg, which is a wooden ' un too, has got fixed in a crack of the pavement, and I'm blest if I can get it out." " Oh ! mamma, do look, what a superb plume ! and what a sweet girl, and what a duck of a young man, in a Quaker's coat and big steel buttons." " Hurrah ! Jem, did you see that old gen'leman get his sword between his legs, and fall up the steps ! What a lark !" only twig their pink silk stockings and long canes— well, I never! Don't they come it rayther strong !" " How I should like to see them take a long walk through eighteen inches of mud!" " That's what I call precious spiteful!" " Oh, is it; what bizziness have them chaps with silk stockings, when the people in Brummagim is starving 2" " Do you imagine the people in Brummagim would get more to eat if they had cotton ones 2" , " I should think so." " But why2" " I'm not a going to tell you my principles. How do I know but what you're a Tory spy, as wants to take up me and O'Connor, and other delegates and victims of tyranny." Now the entrance of St. James's Palace is gained, and the honoured visitors are ushered through crowds of well- dressed persons, who line the hall and stairs— a privilege conferred upon them by the possession of a ticket from the Lord Chamberlain. From these the waiting- room is reached, where the quaint and rich dresses of the yeomen of the guard and gentleman- at- arms add much to the variety and splendour of the scene. A few short moments, and, with palpitating heart, the timid girl, covered with blushes, is led to the foot of the throne, and there, gracetully bending, and for an instant touching the ground with her knee, from which position the extended hand of her young and beautifiil sovereign raises her ; she impresses the fair fingers with a kiss, speaking her fidelity and love— and such is THE PRESENTATION, This grand step over, the accepted one passes forward, making way for others, and continues to mingle with the gay crowd of magnificently- apparelled noblesse, and thenceforth, as a matter of right, may claim the privilege of attending before any of the crowned heads of Europe. The usual appearance of the Opera- house, when a drawing- room takes place in the season, is brilliant in the extreme, presenting a concentration of dazzling splendour and sur- passing loveliness that it would be vain to attempt to describe. The equipages of the nobility, though chaste, are of surprising costliness and exquisite workmanship ; while the more showy carriages of the members THE DRAWING- ROOM DAY. " They may talk as they like of the distresses of the country, sir, but I maintain, with the view of this splendid palace in the foreground—" " And the workhouse in the rear—" " Yes, sir, if you like, and the workhouse in the rear, sir— it is impossible to point out, under the sun, a people who ought to be more entirely content than our noble aristocracy, and—" " The paupers in the poor- law union." " Yes, sir, I'll give them in too— and the paupers in the poor- law union. The one as a body blest with wealth, a great portion of which must always find its way into the pockets of the people, who thus become its enriched reci- pients. Yes, sir, as a universal philanthropist, I must insist that a more equi- table disposition of property, practically speaking, could never be desired, than that which I now advocate—" " Beg pardon, sir, was yourn a red pocket- book 2" " It was." " Then this here universal feel- hand- thro'- fist has just prigged it out of your cly, and transferred it to his own. Come on, old fellow, I've got you at last. Be so good as to follow me to the station- house, sir. This will send you over the water, my friend. Come on !" " It's a mistake ; the gen'leman must have put his hand into my pocket, and dropped it there.'' " Oh, gammon!" " True, ' pon my honour ! and, as a universal philanthropist, I say—" " Never mind about that, come on !" " Then if you mean to take me, I'll have a shy for it— so take that!" " Holloa, here is a muzzier ! Now, A 41, lend a hand; that will do, it's no use kicking— off you go !" " My eye! here's a couple of SWELL JOHNN1KS ! O W many hearts beat high with anxiety and nervous delight at the anticipated pleasures and triumphs of their first presentation at the court of their Sovereign! With the young and high- bred debutante this may be looked upon as one of the most important epochs of life— it is the consummation for which years of application have been spent in the acquirement of every mental and personal accomplishment, and there- fore is it looked forward to with feelings of fever- ish inquietude. However the well- trained dam- sel may have been instructed to avoid the vulgar betrayal of any emotion, the flushing cheek and brightening eye prove well the tumult of con- flicting sensations, which tuition has " scotched, not killed." From the completion of the elegant toilette to the breathless moment when the hand of royalty is extended to the bending and beau- tiful being, her breast thrills with undefined hopes and fears. The magnificent equipage and its elegant tenant are objects of the loudly- ex- pressed admiration of the motley throngs who crowd the streets, and strain their necks and eyes in their endeavours to obtain a satisfactory view of the passing pageant. It is a regular gala day for the sight- seers, who thus congregate to criticise and enjoy the gratuitous exhibition of so much taste and splendour. Learned are some of the old attendants in the particular heraldic insignia of many of the noble owners of the sumptuous equipages, and most like " Sir Oracle" do they dispense their knowledge to their less initiated compeers; others there are who boast a small personal intimacy with some of the stately attendants, and from the acquaintance with the servants, announce, liap- hazard, the inmate of the car- riage, by the name and title of the employer of their friend. " That's the Duke of Newcastle." " No, it aint." " Yes, it is." " I tell you it is not; I knew him well." " What o' that 2 I know his coachman— that's the man that's driving now, and, of course, if his servant's outside on the box, it stands to reason the duke's inside o' the carrriage." " Well, Bob, I shouldn't mind having that berth ; he looks precious fat, does that \ THE SQUIB. 67 WHAT'S IN A NAME? " So you have just left the United States?'—" Not exactly; they were all fighting when I eame'away." MOST LIKELY. " I'll be blowed if you come near me," as the rump- steak said to the blue- bottle. THE MONEY MARKET Is still in a very unsettled state. Some transfer transactions took place at Camberwell fair, but the original holders do not speak in very high terms of them. It is expected, as the weather becomes cooler, the epidemic which has lately afflicted the sovereigns will decrease, especially as they are about to try the remedy of a new issue. It is extraordinary to notice how easily some folks are gulled; we ourself can bear witness to this, as we were present, and saw a Jew— yes, a Jew— actually one of the people, DELICATE ATTENTION. WE understand her Majesty was presented, on her arrival at the Land of Cakes, with a magnificent bouquet, the chief ornament of which was a superb specimen of that unique exotic, the flower Brimstoniensis. ABSENCE OF MIND. A gentleman in New York, in a fit of abstraction, presented his head to the cashier of the Bank, instead of a check, and did not find out his mistake till it was marked " No effects." VERY NEARLY AS GOOD. " Were you ever in the rope trade?"—" Not exactly; but I can spina j tolerably tough yarn." TAKING A SHAM SOVEBETGN. of the blood royal and foreign ambassadors, add greatly to the gorgeous spec- tacle. The horses, and their harness, together with the elaborate liveries, are all objects of the most attractive description. After the breaking up of these regal ceremonies, the neighbouring streets continue for some time to present the gayest appearance, and many a young tenant of a red coat may be seen sauntering after the fairy form of some lovely girl, to whom he sighs to be allowed to " present himself, and pay his court." THE LATE DR. MAGINN. OHR talented contemporary PUNCH, with a feeling which reflects the highest credit on its Editors, suggests, in its announcement of the decease of Dr. Magiun,— one of the greatest lights of modern literature,-— that he has left those behind with strong claims upon the sympathy of the reading public, and so placed by his loss, as to render some exertion on their behalf a necessary step, to secure them from the privations of life. It unfortunately seldom happens that genius and a full purse go together. Past and present times have given this proof. Literary men are, therefore, rarely in positions which enable them to come forward with direct pecuniary assistance, but SOMETHING they can give, and to THAT SOMETHING we beg most respectfully and seriously to call their attention. If we remember rightly, some time ago, either to divert the taking place of the bankruptcy of an eminent bookseller in Paris, or to make up for the losses consequent upon that calamity, most of the literary men of France gratuitously contributed each an article, the whole of which, formed into a handsome and most attractive volume, were published for the benefit of that person; and so well did it answer the purpose, that he was, by this means, once more raised to affluence. Such is the course we venture to recommend. Rich as our country at present is in writers of ability, we feel certain the result would be most satis- factory, and we sincerely hope some more influential brothers of the pen will deem this suggestion worthy their attention. A subscription list might be formed among the wealthy supporters of literature; the equivalent of the volume would do away with any morbid feelings which might attend an application for an absolute donation, and the vast host of Dr. Maginn's admirers would doubtless exert themselves to secure the success of so just a tribute to his great talents. A DEATH SCENE AT THE OPERA. AN excited " Soprano," On somebody calling To lift up her lover, About whom she's squalling- Now clasping her hands, Now tearing her hair, And taking an octave Of horrid despair! Then screaming for vengeance On somebody's head, And requesting Rubini To speak, though he's dead, And cannot comply, As a matter of course ; Yet his silence, alas! Only makes matters worse. Then, all of a sudden, A start and a stagger, A very wild shriek, And a pearl- handled dagger To rid her of life, And all its sad shocks— And she dies with a smile, At the Omnibus Box. " WE." SCENE.— The interior of a printing office— thickset, youngish man ( the editor of the High- pressure Go- ahead) seated on office- stool behind desk. Enter, through office- door, a tarnation long Kentuckian, with the last number of the High- pressure Go- ahead in his hand, and about a cartful of mtisquitoes in the expression of his face. KENTUCKIAN— I say, look here, you stranger, dm you know anything about this here almighty lie, printed in this eternal sheet of trash and humbug? EDITOR— We beg your pardon ; but we should like to know if you are applying those terms to about the most tarniferously elegant extract of a printed publication that ever shed the lustre of its types and literature over a previously- pretty- well- extinguished and benighted state ? KENTUCKIAN— Tell ' e I'm talking of this right down ' arnest black snake's- nest of lies. Look here, you loafer, did you write this here ? EDITOR— We— perhaps we did— perhaps we didn't! KENTUCKIAN— I rayther reckon, if you don't come slick to the point, and say 1 Yes,' or ' No,' you'll find yourself in about as onpleasant a fix as three in a bed, and two on ' em porkeypines. Just speak out at once— did you do it ? EDITOR— We really can't take upon ourselves the responsibility of giving the description of condensed answer you require. KENTUCKIAN— Look here, stranger; mind what you're about, you'lljist find me a whole team, and a horse to spare— tell you, I'm a buffalo, with a rattlesnake's tail and an alligator's head— I've more teeth than hair, and bite almighty hard— so clear out, and give an answer, or I'll be down upon you like a sloth on a sucking- bear— did you do it ? EDITOR— I did not, but we did !— there's your answer. And just look here if you can whip your weight in wild- cats, we don't happen to care the ten thousandth fractional fraction of a bad cent about a whole settlement of such long- legged, stale- headed, eternal ugly and uncivilised earth- encumbering varments as you! KENTUCKIAN — Just you hold hard, you trade - winded, dirty ink- and paper- spoiling rhinoceros— just hold hard, till I have a turn, or I'll use you up like tarred tow in a furnace. Let's see the we that writ this! EDITOR— With all my heart. Editor whips off stool, snatches up a very unpleasant- looking supple- jack— perches again on stool— raises himself to his full height— twirls the stick round his head, and brings it down on desk with a tremendous bang! EDITOR— Here's we, sir— here we are ! Yon owdacious, discontented, un- curable stockfish, here we are; part us if you can ! We wrote that—( whack on desk)— and we'll write more—( another whack)— and if you don't like us, you'd better leave us—( whack third). We are nothing but hickory to the back- bone—( whack fourth)— and if you don't clear out, we'll just try how your wire- thatched skull will do for a drum, and send you to everlasting smash! —( whack fifth and loudest) — And before the plaintive echoes had ceased to reverberate the dying sound, the Kentuckian took to his heels, and suddenly absquatulated, leaving the redoubtable WE master of the field ( which was a counting- liouse), and undisputed conqueror of a man who was twice his size, but wouldn't fight. SONGS OF THE SENTIMENTAL SEEDY.— No. 12. THE name! the name ! why, envious Fate, Why WILLIAM was I christened ? My sainted mother was a flat, Or she had never listened To such advice as made her son Of that dread name the curse. WILLIAM is bad, but, oh, alas! Plain BILL is worse and worse. I know I cannot write like Moore, I haven't Byron's skill, Or my poetic wrath should pour Its pliials on vile BILL. Of all the things I most detest, " I hate, and I would kill," From snobby Hoby up to Stultz— It is their cursed BILL. I'm boolt'd ! I think I'll die of fright, For though unmarried still, And quite Malthusian in my views, Each sends some little BILL, And swears it's mine. It's all in vain ! I fain would say them nay; They cut, and then they come again, To ask when I will pay. They have no hearts, they're made of stone— Talk coolly of a nasty spunging- House, which Mr. Sloman keeps, Some vile and wretched dungeon ! I'm not at home, Tom. Out of town ! Distracted— raving— ill!" I'm sorry, but this action's for— Your otm dishonored BILL !" 68 THE SQUIB. Wbt © Ijeatrcss. ' Nothing extenuate, nor aught set down in malice.' SUCH is our motto, and fearlessly will we act up to it. We come to our task with a determination to support all our liumble judgment deems worthy of support, and, if need be, unhesitatingly condemn anything we conceive to militate against the proprieties of the drama; thereby destroying the respectability of the stage, the morality of the audience, and the general interests of a high and honourable profes- sion. We purpose, in the course of our notices, giving portraits of such public favourites as circumstances at the time bring most prominently forward; and we shall also, by way of contrast, present our readers with the by- gone actors, in the costume of their ' day, and the modern ones apparelled as we see them now. It is no part of our plan to enter into minute details of the subjects of our sketches; a brief notice, we imagine, will be more to the taste of our readers, referring as we intend it, to their peculiar talents, and not to their birth, parentage, and education. We pledge ourselves to act impartially. W< j are directly opposed to the sweeping censures which condemn without giving the semblance of a reason; and, therefore, should we he compelled to differ with actors or authors, we will, at least, give them the opportunity of knowing we do so honestly, and make the public acquainted with our grounds of dissent. We now beg to introduce our readers to MRS. KEELEY, in lier present costume— one of the most dangerous and irresistible of the demon tribe. It seems almost useless to speak about this lady's talents; the public have long known and long appreciated them. Her powers are extremely varied; she is perfect mistress of her art. Smiles spring forth with her mirth, and tears own the power of her pathos. She has one great beauty— originality, and one small draw- back— an affectation of quaintness, which at times will show itself and establish its identity with her, in characters which are totally opposite, and in which this appear- ance of sameness should be avoided. She possesses all the accomplishment necessary for a mistress of her art; sings with considerable taste and expression, and dances more than gracefully. Her pantomime is always elegant, and to be understood. Who that witnessed her impersonation of the Blind Girl in the Last Days of Pompeii, can ever forget the touching pathos and sweet devotion she embodied at every word and action Her comedy is equally good; and we know no one, save, perhaps, Mrs. Humby, who may so well be trusted with a rather dangerous equivoque. The por- trait we give of " her, is taken in the costume of Mephistophiles, in Leman Rede's highly popular extravaganza of Faustus— a character which has added much to her fame as a versatile actress. Everybody knows she is the better half of " small Bob Keeley;" and everybody considers " small Bob Keeley" a happy man in having such a wife— we think the wedding- bell of Bob- minor rang forth a treble Bob- major of good fortune. DRURY- LANE. The precise time for opening this " dramatic school of elocution" ( for such, and such only can it be called, while all hands are compelled to submit to the imperious dictation of Mr. Macready and the second- hand Sectorings of Mr. Willmot) has not yet been fixed. If we look at the past season, we can only pray the next may be far more successful; the novelties of that were few and far between, and those, too, not of a character to add much to the prosperity of the treasury. The secessions from the first public list of announced engagements was most extraordinary; many persons never appearing at all, and others declining their engagements as soon as they possibly could. Among the latter, we may mention Mr. H. Hall. Who that has ever laughed at this gentleman's good- liumour in Iago ( Othello Travestie), or won- dered at his powerful delineation of Catspaw in Jerrold's Billsticker, would, for a moment, suppose the part offered him as an opening one at Drury- lane, was that of Capulet in Iiomeo and Juliet ? Yet such was the case ; and, as may be imagined, but for the fortuitous circumstance of his being required to play Father Luke ( rather an opposite to Father Capulet), there would have ended Mr. Hall's engagement. This is not as it should be. Had Mr. Macready, after he had achieved a position as a tragedian, been compelled to go on the stage for Corporal Stiff m the Pilot, we much doubt that ho would have reached his present boasted eminence; and by the same rule, a professor of low- comedy Irishman, the best since the loss of poor Power, would literally be committing a. professional felo- de- se, by strutting on in the white wig and black suit of Capulet, who is nothing more than a garrulous old man, and one not all the talent ill the world can " act" into anything but the most utter mediocrity. The accession of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Mathews and Mrs. Nisbet, must add much to the attraction of this company. We say they must, because wo presume the " banner- bearing system" resorted to with many persons of talent, will not be adopted to push them from their hard- earned dramatic eminences. We should suggest to this classical management, the propriety, should they produce a pantomime, of allowing some of the acknowledged and anticipated fun of such performances to remain in it. Nobody wants to see a C'oriolanus- taught Clown, or King £ ear- instructed Pantaloon. Verb. sat. COVENT- GARDEN Commences its season once more under the Kemble auspices and management, and most heartily do we wish him every success. Mr. Charles Kemble has long been an ornament to his profession, and a favourite with the public: a rare succession of dramatic talent has been shown by all the members of this liighly- gifted family. Miss Fanny Kcmble astonished and delighted the Old and New World— marriage snatched her from the stage, and, when the " name" had for some short time slept, her sister Adelaide or— so lias she identified herself with the character, we should almost say, Norma— appeared to raise the " bright ancestral name" once more to the very highest pinnacle of deserved eminence. The opening performances are Bellini's Norma. There is a change in the characters— Oroveso, Mr. Giubilei, vice Lcffler, who, we are informed, expressly stipulated that he should not again be called upon for its representative; Flavius, Mr. Binge, vice Mr. Clement White ; and Clotilda, Miss Lane, in lieu of Miss Grant. A new comedy, by Douglas J errold, entitled Gertrude's Cherries, or Waterloo in 1835, follows the opera. All the essentials of a first- rate dramatist are possessed by the author; he has but one drawback— does he not at times sacrifice comedy to satire ? Need all his characters be perpetually shaiyening their tusks against each other, and running a general muck against poor human nature ? We shall notice this comedy in our next. HAYMARKET. Bourcicault's London Assurance has again been produced with all its original success. We miss some of the first cast. Strickland may do for Bartley— not so Viniiig for Mathews: and as for Miss Charles and Mr. Clarke in the places of Madame Vestris and Little Keeley, " Oh ! what a fall is there, my countrymen !" locomotion seems likely to realise its name, and run on to the end of the season. A new comedy, by the author of London Assurance, entitled Alma Mater, was played on Monday. " We will faithfully report its progress. THE STRAND Is fast drawing to the conclusion of a good season ; but the manager appears deter- mined to end as he began, and novelty is still the order of the night. By dint of Legerdemain, of one sort and another, the seats are well filled; the burletta under that title, produced last Monday, possesses a fair portion of interest, and was well received. THE SURREY Has lost its vocal company. A new opera, the music by Mrs. G. A. a Beckett, the composer of Agnes Sorel, the libretto by G. A. a Beckett, Esq., was brought before the public here. This, in our opinion, whatever the merits of the opera, was a most injudicious proceeding. " Music" is not the " staple" for the Surrey audi- ences ; they reqxiire the stamp of popularity to have been previously affixed to the opera, as well as the singers: they have no notion of transplanting people from Drury- lane and Covent- garden, and not seeing them in Drury- lane and Covent- garden pieces; it seemed to them as if the vocalists have transported themselves in a hack- cab from Blackfriars'- road, instead of their own equipages; they do not know enough of music to venture to applaud anything that does not come before them after its universal acknowledgment, and, for these reasons, the Surrey is not a theatre to give a new work of this sort fair play; hence the cause of alternating the novelty of Red Riding Hood with the more well- known operas which displaced it. SADLER'S WELLS. The Jewess, with Marston as Eleazor, and a Miss Rankin ( her first appearance at this theatre) as Rachel, has taken the place of Ducrow's stud, and, if we may judge by the audiences, without any depreciation of the receipts. Everything a minor theatre can accomplish, is done for the drama. The last scene is particularly effective, and Marston, as the dying Jew, acts with great truthfulness and effect. The drama of " intense interest," which followed the Jewess, is one of those pro ductions of which the least said the soonest mended. It must be a translation from our language to the French, of the disgusting " Red Barn murder," of Corder and Maria Slarten notoriety. This precious concoction has been re- done into English, and once more appears upon the stage. There are the usual ingredients for French effect— a supposed murderer, a ghostly victim, a kind of nondescript creation, too slow to belong to the quick, and rather too lively to claim affinity with the very dead; then there is a notary, of course, and a mad mother, who, save her propensity for dreaming, turns out to be the most sensible person in the piece, and is evidently a well- read woman, as in one of her somnolent soliloquies she favours us with a line or two from Shakspere. The actors did all they could. Lyon was the monster, and acted as well as the part would let him; but, as our readers may suppose, when the low- comedy man frustrates the tragic one at every turn, the laugh was rather against the supposed assassin. We really think the time for these tilings has gone past; we wish all managers would think so too. THE VICTORIA Revels knee- deep in blood and murder. The Newgate Calendar heroes of the New Cut playgoers are as attractive as ever. The sentiment of Susan LLopley, the maid of all- work, and sins of Jack Sheppard, the redoubted thief, fill the house with ardent sympathisers in the woes of the one and the wrongs of the other. Burglary is a bountiful benefaction to the treasury, and a Maid of All- work a mighty attraction to the morbid, four- pounds- a- year- and- their- tea- and- sugar- box- audience of this unique establishment. A FACT. " Your ways are more taking than pleasant," as the debtor said to the bailiff. THAT S COMFORTABLE. " I think our Jem will rise in life!"—" Well, I think so too, he seeins to be brought, up for the Iiigh- way!" ALIKE, BUT, OH! HOW DIFFERENT. " Do you know anything about Barking, in Essex2"—" Not exactly; but I've got a dog that knows a good deal about barking in Smitlifield. TO OUR READERS. OUR next number will contain a Portrait of a popular actor, executed with the same truthfulness and beauty as that contained in the present, also the first part of an original poetical version of ® I) c life ant) ® tatf> of ISIuchcarB, tije ® rucl l^ us& antJ, the first of a series of parodies upon popular ENGLISH LEGENDS, profusely illustrated. The Editor thinks it but justice to himself to state that, when a contributor to PUNCH, this article was accepted for that work, now more than twelve months ago. The reason for this statement is that, since that time, a work ( which the Editor has never seen) upon the same subject ( though, he presumes, very differently treated) has been issued to the Public. Parts I. II. and III. of the Saum are now ready, and may be had of all Booksellers. The " Vauxliall" number of the SQUIB, containing portraits of Signor Ilillier, Le Petit Ducrow, and the immortal Widdicomb, has been re- printed, and may be had separately. LONDON :— Printed and Published by JOSEPH LAST, at the Office, 3, Crane- court, Fleet- street; where all communications for the Editor are to be addressed.— Saturday, September 10th, 1842. — PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.