iwr » Trior; ® :- In answer to numerous correspondents relative to the changing the title of this publication from " THE TOWN," to " LONDON LIFE," we beg to state that it arose in consequence of the prejudice in the trade against the former title, that, and that only, being the cause of the change, they having - COME IN, DUCKY." TALES OF LONDON LIFE. MRS. LORIMER SPINKS; OR, THE MARRIED LADY THAT WAS A LITTLE TOO GAY. ( Continued from " The Town.") tier that a second time I yielded, and, for eighteen months, he- came the mistress of the Rev. DoctorS , that was the name of my friend ; and I afterwards learned that he was held in great repute, and the highest honours of the church, even to a mitre, were in store for him, but for his sudden death." The narrative was here interrupted for a few minutes by a knocking » t the door, and Varden, upon opening, perceived that it was Susan with the brandy, who, to his surprise, refused to take any. " Bring up a little warm water," he observed, " Sarah will tako some no doubt." " I will take it neat," answered Sarah, holding out her hand for the bottle. " Surely you will not drink it all," exclaimed Varden, regard- ing her with a look of astonishment; " there is a quartern." " No," replied Sarah ; " I will not drink it all now— but I hav » known the time when twice that quantity has not hurt me, or, at least has not been sufficient to drown recollection. I will, how- ever, take a little— Sue," she continued, " get me a cup and Til take a few drops with it— you'll find some in a little phial in a hole in the back of the cupboard." There's the tea- cup," said Susan, " and I'll give you a little brandy ; but I can't find the phial." " The hole is stuffed up with rags," replied Sarah, " I am certain I left it there, and it's there now, if no one has removed it; put yonr band in the hole, it's a long way down." " I have it," exclaimed Susan, producing a two ounce phial covered with cobwebs, and half filled with a dark liquor. " Wb » t# this written upon it?" she continued. " Tine, opii," answered Sarah. " It's poison*' said Varden. " Poison ."' repeated Susan, recoiling. " Yes," said Varden, drawing the cork, and tasting the liquid, " the very strongest preparation of lauduuum compounded; surely, Sarah, you do not take this?" " I have taken as much as half an ounce a day," replied Sarah, " Give me half a tea- spoonful; I must not take more than that now, for I've had none since Saturday." Susan poured out the quantity desired, and then proceeded to mix a small quantity of brandy with it. " Fill the little tea- cup," said Sarah, " it won't hurt me. X I sha'nt want i before I've finished my story with this gentleman * formed an ide8 that it was an illegal and scurrilous publication, and under that impression, very properly, refused to sell it. Such an idea, however, was groundless, every copy being submitted to a solicitor prior to going to press. " THE LONDON LIFE" will be found to contain the continuation of every tale that has appeared in " THE TOWN," with all the fun and humour of tho great metropolis; divested of anything of an objectionable character, and never by a possibility interfering with private or personal matters. IT having been foaad impossible to meet the demand for the early num- bers of " THE TOWN," arrangements have been made for the re- issue of No. 1 of that jonrnal, on the 21st of July, and the consecutive numbers will follow. A few perfect sets may, however, be had for Is., or It. 6d. f post free, by ordering of any book- sellers. 44THE LONDON LIFE," which we beg most emphatically to repeat Is a direct continuation af" THE TOWN," for the convenience of parties residing In remote parts, alio may be had, post free, for 2s. Jd. per quarter, July 14th, 18 » . THE PROPRIETORS. CHAPTER XVI. THE READER LEARNS SOMETHING MORE ABOUT MRS. SAW- DERS, AND A LITTLE OF MRS. SPINKS. " Did you know Mrs Spinks," enquired Varden, " prior to her marriage ?', " Slightly," answered Sarah. " I had seen her at the bonnet- shop in Cranbourn- alley, where she had been placed by Mrs. Saunders, after the old devil had spent all her money. But I must not forget my own story. As soon as I was sufficiently well to be removed, I left the Brand's for the house of Mrs. Saun- ders, who, at that time, lived in Little Chelsea ; here I was not permitted to remain long in ignorance as to her true character. Upon my first introduction to her by you I believed her to be what you had represented her a respectable widow ; I now found that she subsist < 1 npon the prostitution of young females, assis- ted, occasionally, by even more unnatural and soul harrowing means, of which you may form some idea when I tell you that a few days after I became her lodger she expressed her pity for the trouble my infant must occasion, and added that had she known I had been with child and lived in her house, she would have saved me the inconvenience of a child- birth. I recoiled with horror as I beard her make this declaration, but she flippantly observed that I should get. used to that sort of thing by ai jl by. I will not weary you with the particulars of how I became ac- quainted with the dreadful trafficking of this woman, suffice it, that after I bad been with her a few weeks she introduced me to an elderly gentleman who she said would be a friend to me— blame me not, Varden, but rather consider the helpless desolate state in which you had left me— an infant dependant upon me for support, and nought but a life of shame before me, can you won- NO- 17- I PUBLISHED WEEKLY. [ PRICE ONE PENNV- Parts I., II., and III., are now ready. Each part will be sent direct, on receipt of 18 Postage Stamps. For remote parts, Single Copies may be sent direct f. om the Office, for Two Posta e Stamps. 2 THE TOWN. 3 The eup held above half a quartern of brandy, which, mixrd with the laudanum, was drank by Sarah; Varden steadfastly regarding her. " I ehould'nt like to take all that lot on an empty stomach," soliloquised Susan, as she took the empty eup from Sarah. " Are you then hungry?" inquired Varden. " No," answered Sarah, " though I have not tasted food since yesterday morning." " You seem surprised, sir," chimed in the other female, " there are plenty who will give an unfortunate girl drink, but they never think to ask them to eat. It's gin, gin, gin; and I've known some who, although they'd send you home speechless, would feel offended if you asked for a biscuit or a penny to get a roll." " Had you not better have something to eat?" said Varden ; " there is an eating- house close by, and I have no doubt this young woman will fetch it for you." Sarah, however refused ; and Susan, perceiving that her com- pany wa- not required, left the room, observing that she should go round and look at the fire ; but that she would return shortly, and see if she could be of any service to Sarah ; adding to Varden in a whisper as she left the room, " I don't think she'll want help from any one long, poor girl ; she's been dying this last month." There was a pause for a few moments after Susan had left the apartment; during which Varden took a survey of the articles of furniture surrounding him. Against the wall immediately by his side, was a small black frame containing a lithographic portrait of a man in full canonicals, filled up with a number of buildings. " I have seen these places before," said Varden. " Certainly," answered Sarah, raising herself from the bed, " it's the free- grammar school, the Town- hall, and the old chu ch at Manchester. I bought the print afew months back, at a broker's stall, in Gray's Inn Lane." " And who is the portrait a likeness of?" enquired Varden, musing. " Dare I name him ?" replied his companion, with much emo- tion, " one who, in happier days, owned me as his daughter." " I remember," answered Varden, coolly, " your father was about becoming grammar master, when you left— that is, when we came to London together— I suppose this is a friendly memorial of the circumstance." " You might read as much if you examined the print," said Sarah, stung by his manner, " alas! he ne'er deemed how strangely fate would alter the position of his child, and make her value, beyond all price, this, the only memento of his worth, she could possess." " You have not yet told me," replied Varden, suddenly, and, as if desirous of changing the subject, " what became of Mrs. Saunders, for circumstances must also have greatly changed with her, if my information be correct. She being now, I am told, the tenant of a wretched garret, and her only son, known to the police, as the greatest house- breaker in London." " True— true— all true," exclaimed Sarah, her eye lighting up with a strange enthusiasm—" her misery is, if possible, even greater than mine." " Does she then want ?" " No— not absolutely want— for her son, the Slasher, as he is called by the thieves, continues to keep her in food, from the plunder which he obtains; but then the lowliness of her situation, to be left for days, and sometimes even for weeks, without a friend to speak to, nothing but her own evil thoughts— oh, ' tis horrible — she, too, has her hour of madness, and then, even, the most depraved and hardened tremble at her language, and shudder to approach her." " Does Mrs. Saunders, then, keep to her bed ?" " She will never again leave it— save to be carried to her grave" — replied Sarah. " Oh," she continued, with a low chuckle, that made, even, Varden shudder, " I have had my hour of triumph, I have seen my poor child avenged. Listen, listen— and tell me, if you do not think mad Sal Moreton, as the girls call her, has had her revenge." Varden gazed upon the woman for a moment, and, for a mo- ment, he was surprised at her extraordinary animation ; but as she raisod herself from the bed, and stood unsupported in the apartments, he perceived that the stimulant from the brandy and laudanum was beginning to work. Drawing from his pocket a long French knife, he unclasped it behind him, and then unper- ceived, still firmly grasping it, placed his hand in his front coat pocket, so as to be upon his guard from any attack, which might be made upon him. That such might be the result, was in some measure indicated by her manner, she, for somo minutes, conti- nuing to pace the chamber. Her phrenzy, however, abating, she again seated herself beside him, and, taking another drink of brandy, she continued in a very altered tone to thai which she commenced her narrative. " I was about to tell you, Varden, how I fared after the death of my clerical friend, but before I do so, I must tell you of another circumstance which, at the time, I did not think much of, but has since caused me years of pain. During the whole time that I was in keeping by the dootor, I lived at Mrs. Saun- ders, and one morning, about six or seven months after I had been there, I heard, I thought, whilst taking my coffee in my bed- room, a voice in the passage that was familiar to me; I lis- tened, and as I did so, I became the more confident I knew the voice. I was not deceived, for shortly after Mrs. Saunders en- tered, and told me that she had an agreeable surprise forme; that a few days before she had met the pretty young Irish girl, whom she had seen at Mrs. Brand's during my confinement, and had engaged ber to wait upon me; and as she spoke, my friend who had given me the oranges, Jenny, came into the room; she had grown very much since I had last seen her, and she was now a most beautiful woman. Although I felt phased at having this young creature with me, still, knowing the charac- ter of Mr « . Saunders, I dreaded the result. I must hasten, how- ever, with my story. The girl remained with me for some months, during which time I did all in ni" power to warn her of Mrs. Saunders, and I thought successfully, till having left London for a few days on a pleasure trip, on my return I found her gone as I understood, to another situation, in a distant part of the country. I closely questioned Mrs. Saunders, for I suspected her, but she keeping to the same story, I ultimately believed it, and in time forgot all about Jenny. At the death of the doctor, I found my- self in possession of about forty pounds; on this I lived until Mrs. Saunders introduced me to another friend, a professional singer, who promised me marriage, and I believe he would have kept his word, but for the sad particulars which I now must tell you. Seagrave, that was his name, was engaged with some other professionals to sing at the York festival, and at his desire I accompanied him, leaving my child then near two years old, with Mrs. Saunders, " Upon reaching York, Seasrrave attended the first rehersal, where he was highly successful. Excited by the applause which he re- ceived from his brother professionals, and fatigued with the heat, and the excitement, he rushed into the cold air, and meeting with a lad who was bringing water from a neighbouring puinp, he drank eagerly of it. In three hours he was seized with cholera, and the next afternoon, in the greatest agony, he closed his eyes for ever. My situation was a painful one, in an hotel, amongst strangers ; looked upon as the widow of a mau I had known but six short weeks, and with but little money; how was I to act? I wrote to his fiiends in London, who carrie down, and gave instructions relative to the funeral, treating me with brutal indifference, refusing to pay even my expenses at the hotel. I, hnwever, bad money, and out of respect to poor George, who hail always treated me with kindness, I procured black, and stayed till he was interred. Disconsolate, and sick at ' heart, I returned to London, little anticipating the dreadful shock that awaited me. I had purchased a hat and frock at York, for my child, and, with these in the omnibus, I hastened to Mrs. Saunders at Chelsea. It was Sunday, and, tired, pale, and wearied, I arrived at the house abont thiee o'clock. Mrs. Saunders had had a party to dinner, and the cloth was just being cleared as I entered. They evidently did not expect me; one or two of the women rose from the table, and I could hear a mutter of " poor thing." " You've put on black, then?" said Mrs. Saunders. " Certainly," I answered, surprised at her manner; " common decency would teach me to do that. But where is my child ?" I inquired, looking round. " Why, you din't suppose he was here ?'' said Mrs. Saunders, sharply. " Hadn't you better take your things off, and have a bit of dinner before you see him ?" " No," I answered, more and more surprised at her manner, " I want to see hirn at once." " Well, I suppose you know best," she answered; " he's only in the next room." 1 waited to hear no more, but darted out of the apartment into the next, the little hat and frock in my hand, expecting to clasp my infant to my arms. How shall I describe my horror, when, upon opening the door, in place of my infant toddling to meet ine, I beheld in one corner of the room a small blue coffin. The dreadful truth flashed across me. I rushed to the coffin, and, ' ipon lilting the lid, I saw the face of my child blackened in death. I saw no more, for I fell senseless upon the ground. ( To be continued). NAUGHTY NEIGHBOURHOODS.— No. l. Oh, the days when we were young And strayed ail night, And saw the Charley's rattle sprung, The vimin scream and fight. NEW CASTLE- COURT AND SHIRE- LANES. We have been told that we are getting too moral, that we have cut the bird's- eye squeeze and taken to the " white choker that from being" beautifully blue" we have become " brutally bilious." Heaven forbid, say we, that we should be better than our neigh- bours, or that anything should induce us to speak disparinglv of necessary and useful establishments— as poor Mother Emmerson once said to the Bishop of London, " We love a lark and we don't care a— a— tinker's tin pot— who knows it." We trust, therefore, our readers will not be frightened at the title we have given to this article. We trouble not ourselves regarding locations of the common order, not we— knowing full well that the affair* of the flesh as well as the spirit must be attended to. " Naughty neighbourhoods," there are many about London, and naught;) neighbourhoods we hope there always will continue to be, at least as long as poor human nature has any respect for public decency. The parish of Saint Clement's Danes has pre- eminently distinguished itself, and it is to us a source of no ordinary grati- fication that our office should be located in a parish that has done so much for the rising principle. We speak, we trust, with be- coming reverence upon the subject, knowing from experience, both abroad and at home, that there are certain well- conducted houses to be found in what are called " naughty neighbourhoods," the general suppression of which would tend to the pollution of the domestic hearth, and hourly outrage decency by exposes of the most filthy character. Newcastle- court, and Little and Great Shire lanes, were always of the genus, naughty, and the Sun Tavern, and the Star Hotel at the corner, were, for many years, associated with the things that appertain unto harlotry. The fire, however, which occurred here about 18 or 19 years since, literally " burnt out" a number of these houses. Well do we remember that affair ; it was a sad morning for the Fleet- street concubines when, shoeless, and in their shifts, they were compelled to fly, in company with their thinly clad male companions, over the roofs of the houses, to escape the raging elements. Many a poor swell was to be seen seeking the shelter of the neighbouring public- houses, in a state of primeval buff; and numerous sinful husbands who had strayed into, and fallen asleep in this " nauuhty neighbourhood," were compelled to return to their unsuspecting wives, minus their boots and breeches. Newcastle- court has also had its troubes ; a few years since it was visited by a severe calamity in the shape of a call from the parochial authorities, when the attendance of Mother Gong, the piano- forte tuner's old woman, and one or two other venerable in- habitants were requested at Clerkenwell sessions, but the ladies, not thinking such a visit would be good for their health, removed into the neighbourhood of the Cornwall- road. Thanks, however, to the fostering care of old Marshall, Challis Smith, the cove at the milk shop, and one or two other respectable inhabitants, New- castle- court recovered the shock, and with Mother Owen, Miss Johnstone, and the Infant Foster, it's now as flash and" naughty neighbourhood" as any in London. St. Martin's and St. Paul's, Covent- garden, come next in the list, but here there has also been a great change. In Bow- street the world- renowned Brunswick Hotel, at the corner of Broad- court, once so famous for its looking- glass- topped bedsteads, and India- rubber couches, is, even while we are writing, undergoing great alterations, part ol the house being taken down to be made into a coffee- shop ; and the once " naughty neighbourhood" of Hart- street and Phrenix- alley is, we are informed, to have a Sun- day- school and a chapel. As we purpose in a subsequent number resuming this subject, we will conclude the present sketch with a verse we received a few weeks since when we were of THE TOWN from a fair friend on that once very, very " naughty neighbourhood," Coventry- court. The place it seems dead, the gals are all fled, And left but a very queer sort, To the lot I once knew— both Christian and Jew, Who lived in famed Coventry- court. All night, and all day, each house it was gay, And swells here delighted to sport Now the peeler " takes down," every wench on the town That he finds walking Coventry- court. CONFESSIONS OF A PICKPOCKET. CHAPTER III. [ BEGIN WITH A ROW AND A WATCH- HOUSB JOB, AND FINISH WITH A WOMAN. Before I proceed with an account of my first robbery, it will be necessary for me to explain a few particulars. My father, after he left the prison and obtained the engagement at the Surrey, took a lodging on the other, that is, the Middlesex side of the river, as he said he preferred the walk to the chance of being an- noyed by any of his old prison pals. The house at which my parents lodaed was, at the time of which I am writing, a coffee- shop, and situated in Poppin's- eourt, Fleet- street, my father and mother sleeping in the second- floor front- room, and myselfin the back. The old man, however, for a few days prior to my meet- ing with Charley Roberts, as described in the last chapter, had adopted a plan, if I was not in doors before he went to the theatre ( half- past five) he would lock the door, and suffer me to wander about the streets, or sit down stairs in the coffee- shop till he came home, which, if he met with a Pros! ( a person who will pay for drink), would often be as late as two or three o'clock in the morning. The person who kept this coffee- shop was a Mrs. Mackintosh; she was the widow of a compositor, and from this circumstance, her house was much patronised by the members of that trade, whose desires for long credit, accompanied afterwards by short recollections, were often of much inconvenience to the pro- prietress. I am led to give these explanations, as they will be found essential to the interest of this portion of my story. On the night preceding the day on which I had met Charley at Hor- emonger Lane gaol, I had been with some lads to the Royalty Theatre, and consequently did not reach home till near one o'clock ; I found, however, that late as it was, I was before my parents, and consequently entered the coffee- shop, requesting permission to await their return. In one of the boxes were two females, rather ehowily dressed, partaking of eggs, ham, and coffee, with a gentlemanly- dressed man, very much in liquor. The instant I entered the shop, the eldest of the two, a woman about nineteen or twenty, who had her arm round the man's neck, fixed her gaze firmly upon me, and then whispered something to her companion. " How is your mother, Frank?" said the woman, looking kindly at me. I felt surprised at the question, for at the period of which I am writing, that " paternal interrogative" was not so common as now ; I, however, told the female my mother was quite well, but I had not the pleasure of knowing her. " Isn't your mother's name Bradshaw?" she inquired. I of course answered in the affirmative, apd I waB then satisfied that she knew my family, for she proceeded to ask several ques- tions about the King's Bench, and my father, which very much surprised Mrs. Mackintosh, who did not seem at all inclined to let me stop. I, however, repeated the request, and then the old woman consented ; still I saw from her manner th » re was some- thing wrong, and after sitting in the shop for a few minutes, she very plainly let me know the cause, informing me that she had no objection to my waiting there, but that upon almost every occasion of my stopping, she had missed articles of food, in the shape of loaves, pats of butter, and rashers of bacon. " Now," said Mrs. Mackintosh, " ye ken I dinna make much noise aboot the wee bit o' victual, seeing its a sin and a shame that thee tayther should keep a puir body like thee without meat, but ye munna gang that gait agaiH, for the coostomers are noticing it." She then went on to say, that a person of the name of Godwin, a compositor, had told her this, and whilst speaking, the fellow entered the place ; I shall never forget his appearance, for the circumstance which I am about to detail, in a great measure ac- celerated my destiny. From some cause, which at that time I could not understand, this man from the very first moment he saw me, had taken a fearful dislike to me, and the feeling was so far reciprocated that, if upon entering the shop at any time I found he was there, I would immediately leave. As these are my confessions, I am bound to admit that the charge brought against me by Mrs. Mac- kintosh, was in the main correct, and the only excuse which I can offer for so behaving, was that which she in lact made for me, viz., the behaviour of my father. Godwin was a person who held a situation on one of the morn- ing papers, but, although what is termed an excellent hand at his business, and capable of earning a great deal of money, he was a man of no mind; and, in addition to being a mere automaton at his trade, like the majority of his class, a confirmed drunkard. Probably it was these two circumstances that led to his brutal treatment of me, as no man of education would condescend to notice, much more travel out of his path, to annoy a mere boy.— On one occasion he amused himself by blackening my face, whilst asleep, and on another, my hair, which was very long, flaxen, and for a boy, curly, he cut off and notched. In appearance, he was short and thick set, with bushy red whiskers, and small eyes, which were in constant agitation. He had been in the shop but a few minutes, when he commenced jeering, calling me " gal- lows bird," and promising what he would do for me, if he was my father. I bore this for some time patiently, till, as I was leaving the shop for the purpose of waiting at the end of the court, the return of my parents, rather than bear his tauntings, he enquired " if I was looking for some stray bacon, or wanted to find an egg or two." This was too much, and I retorted on him by telling him he had better " pay bis coffee- score, and keep his wife out of the workhouse, than getting drunk and calling me names." The fellow foamed at the mouth with rage, lor it so happened, thanks to certain hints dropped by Mrs. Mackintosh, and which I had previously picked up— I had hit his true character. Jumping from the seat, he rushed after me, and, although drunk, I found he was sufficiently nimble to pursue me, and with his foot deal me such a kick upon the stern, as to cause me to shriek with pain. The reader of this may laugh; but did he ever receive from acci- dent or design, in a lark, or earnest, a real genuiiu straight- for- ward lift in the behind. No matter whether it proceeds from a pointed Wellington, or a broad- thick- Northampton- constructed Blucher, or an elegant patent leather pump, it's a terrible painful contribution. Ou the occasion of which I am writing, I found it alarmingly so. " You'll li- arn to be cheeky again," said Godwin, looking at me with drunken ferocity, as bellowing with pain, I stood rubbing the injured part. " You may thieve from, and sauce at other people, as much as you like, but you shan't do either at me." " I wish my father was here," I answered, without really desiring anything of the kind, as I knew perfectly well that, in all probability, he would have doubled the infliction. " I'd serve him the same way, if he took your part, you young thief," he answered—" and, if I have anymore of your sauce, I'll throw you into the street." One of the women here interfered, and commenced expostulat- ing with him, in the midst of which I seized a pot, containing nearly a pint of coffee, and watching my opportunity, threw the whole in his face, and before he could follow, hurled the jug at his head, and reached the street. The cup, fortunately for him, missed him; but equally unfortunate for me, struck a large swing looking glass, whicn it shivered to pieces. Upon gaining the street I was afraid to return, as I was fearful the fellow would have me locked up, and also, dreaded the chas- tisement I should receive from my father, for breaking the glass. I, accordingly, ran up Fleet- street, and through Temple Bir, nor stopped till I came to the watch- box, near St. Clement's church ; here I wandered about for an hour, till the watchman, seeing me, interrogated me as to what I did out so late, and, not answering him to his satisfaction, he took me to the nearest watch- house, which was then, my readers, who know anything of the locality, will remember, in front of the burying- ground in Portugal- street. The constable of the night asked me a number of questions, and, upon my telling him my name, it appeared he knew my father as an actor, and, consequently, believed the story I had fabricated, viz., that I had been to the Surrey, where I was engaged, but had missed of my parent. I was permitted to leave the watch- house; but just as I was doing so, to my surprise, who should be brought in, but the very woman that had taken my part in the coffee- shop, and her male companion; her friend, a girl about 17, who waited outside, told me that they had been quarrelling in Shire- lane, and the watch- man had taken them both up. " I don't think, however," she said, " they will do anything to them, for, I slipped a shilling in the old watchman's hand as he took them in." The girl was right, for, in a few minutes, both parties were liberated, and the woman who knew me, then asked me why I didn't go home? I told her the true reason, that I was afraid of a row, and I then heard her whisper to the other female. " it was a pity I should be in the streets all night." The girl laughed, and said something which I could not hear; but her companion replied, " nonsense, Louisa, he's quite a boy, too young to think of such things yet." Louisa, here, told me, " that if I behaved myself, and was not rude, I might sleep in a chair in ber room, but that if I stirred at allin the night, or got looking about, she should get up and turn me out into the street, and which," she added, " as it's likely to be a snowy night, won't be too comfortable for you." The gentlema:: laughed at this, and observed, " he'd be d—— 4 if he should act so, when he was my age." THE TOWN. 3 We then proceeded through Clare- market, and a number of little streets, till we came to a long square, paved turning, about the middle of Russell- street; the eldest female, whose name 1 learned was Murray, opened the door, and we, all four, went up stairs to a room on the firsi- finor. " We must have something to drink, Nancy," said the gentle- man, addressing Mrs. Murray, " give the boy a bottle, and let him go for something." " You can pet it at the Harp," said Louisa, " I should like a drop of beer— I'll go with the boy and show him." A bottle, and a. jug, was accordingly given to me, and I was despatched, with Louisa, to the Harp in Great Russell- street, then, a house patronised by the elite of the theatrical profession. Although it was near three o'clolc in the morning, there was a great crowd of persons in front of the bar, and a slight disturb- ance outside, occasioned by a gentleman, who was being carried into a hackney coach very drunk, " It's Mr. Kean, the great performer," said Louisa, " he acts at that theatre," she continued, pointing to Drury Lane—" per- haps jou have hoard of him." Boy as I was, I had heard of him from my father, and I was curious to look upon the great man; I pressed forward, and, by the light of the lamp, saw in the coach, a man furiously drunk, and fearfully dirty, with eyes glaring like a maniac, and his clothes torn, dishevelled; and disordered; it was the late Edmund Kean, the tragedian. I often, very often, saw him afterwards, but I shall never forget the effect this, the first time of my seeing him, had upon me. At the bar, Louisa persuaded me to have something to drink, and, with but little pressing, I took part of a quartern of rum and shrub; as we returned she got very chatty, and chucking me under the chin, asked me who curled my hair, and then kissing me, told me she was afraid I was a sad rogue amongst the girls. It was the first time I had ever been kissed by a female near my own agi', for I was now turned fifteen, and I felt a strange thrill rush through my blood, as her warm lips again pressed against mine. I knew perfectly well that she was a prostitute, at least, 1 guessed so, by her dress, and knew that she was com- mon to every man who could pay her; but I did not stop to con- sider these things, it was a novelty— a charming novelty to me— I felt that it was a pretty woman, whose arm encircled my neck — whose hot breath, though slightly flavoured of rum, met mine and in rapture I endeavoured to again kiss her. She was rather taller than me, and as I stood on tip- toe to reach her, every limb trembling with excitement, I upset the whole quart of beer ovei her. [ To be continued.] A QUEEIt LARK WITH A SOLDIER. Polly's master, and in the name of the Queen, to demand their comrade, Jack Swodgers. Jack Swodgers and the frail Polly were awake when Mr. Duff,( for that was the corporal's name) knocked at the door. Jack Swodgers aroso, and peeping through the casement, beheld the corporal and his men in the street. " It's all up," said Swodgers, as he shivered in his shirt at the window. " What's all up ?" asked Polly from the bed- clothes. " There's our Duff down in the street," was the answer. " Is there by G— d," said the amiable Miss Polly Squeaks, leaping from the bed in great alarm. " With a whole file," continued Jack. " An old file, did you say ?" replied Polly. " It's no time for chaffing," said Swodgers, from the shirt; and then a terrific double knock at the street door awakened the jocular Polly completely to a sense of her own danger, as well as Swodgers's. ' What is to be done? Can I hide you?" she inquired. ( To be continued.) ( Written for No. 12 of " TIIB TOWN.") " NEVER let a soldier sleep with you," said Miss Sjjueaks to a female friend, after the seventh cup of tea; " when my sister Polly lived with old Sir Boldero Pipp, she got finely in for it ; that, was when she lived at Woolwich." " Tell me all about it,'' said her friend. " Listen, then: Polly was in her 19th year, when she became acquainted with Jack Swodgers. Jack was good natured, wore moustaches, sang a good song, and strutted through the town of Woolwich with as slashing a long sword ( which ever and anon, went joggle- wobble between his legs) as any man in the royal artillery. Seeing the attributes of Jack Swodgers, you cannot wonder that my sister, an unsophisticated girl, became ena- moured of him. The attachment of Polly for Jack Swodgers had fixed itself firmly in her bosom before she was aware of it. Jack was a knowing, designing, and indefatigable lover. Opposite to the house rented by Sir Boldero Pipp, was a gateway ; on each side of this gateway, was placed a glaring black and whiteboard on which was painted—" Commit no nuisance— beware of the water spout." Now, will it be credited— will it be believed, that, at the very particular time Polly put her head out of the window, there, right underneath the gateway, in defiance of the warning and the water spout, stood full private Swodgers, of the Royal Artillery, dangling his long sword, and twisting his moustaches. on purpose to attract the attention of the weak and unsuspecting Polly, who thought, poor innocent thing, that, he stood there with a totally different object. One night as Polly stepped into bed, she shought she beard the voice of full private Swodgers, just out in the street.; so she tripped lightly to the window to take a peep. She drew aside the curtain, and there, sure enough, in the pale ray of the moon, stood Jack Swodgi rs; his long sword looked brighter and longer than ever, as he flourished it. about, in the moonlight. As soon as Jack caught a glimpse of his " ladye- love," he advanced close under the window. " How are you, Polly ;" said Jack. " I am very well, Mr. Swodgers; how are you ?" responded Polly. " I am frozen as hard aa a ball- cock in a hard winter, returned fnll private Swodgers; " and what's worse I ain shut out of the Barracks." What will you do, Mr. Swodgers ?" said Polly. " Miss Polly, I don't know at all, what I shall do," said full private Swodgers. " Can you give me a corner of your blanket.?" " Go along, you know I can't do that," replied Polly. " Then I'll just content myself with remaining here all night.," said full private Swodgers, jumping on to a post just to show Poll. v his agility. " Will you stay there all night, Mr. Swodgers?'' said Polly, anxiously. " I will, by Jasus," responded Swodgers from the post. " Now you'll get your death a cold," urged Polly from the window. " I don't care," said full private Swodgers, from the post. " Why don't you care, Mr. Swodgers ?" said Polly at the window. " Coz I could die near her 1 loved," said Swodgers, on the post. The reader, if a man of the world, will see through the manoeu- vring of the artful Swodgers. " How could you get in, if I were to let you lie outside my bed, Mr. Swodgers?'' said Polly ; " for Sir Boldero takes the key of the street door up stairs willi him, and I can't let you in." " I'll be into you in a jiffey if you'll let me," said full private Swodgers, springing from the post, and placing one foot on the projecting shop- board of the next house. " Come along, then," said Polly ; for the rattling of full private Swodgers long sword against the shutters, put the poor girl quite beside herself. The graceless Swodgers, when he got into the room, absolutely, obstinately refused to lie outside the bed, as he had previously proposed. Where he did lie I will not further inquire ; suffice it to say, that the hapless Polly Squeaks— " Swore an oath, that fatal night, Of so help her tibby or blow her tight, To stick to Swodgers, come what might." This meeting was repeated very often. It happened, however, that a broad- backed baker's man, who supplied the family- with bread, had for a long time cast a sheep's- eye, when delivering the loaves, upon the pretty Polly. The baker's man was not, however, the man to Polly's fancy. She was, to use a common expression, " wrapped up" in Jack Swodgers ; and Jack Swodgers was for tho time being, wrapped up in her; so, seeing that the flame was apparently mutual, we cannot wonder that our heroine slighted the baker's man for her first love, full private Swodgers. He became jealous, and watching his opportunity on one eventful night, loaded with beer and the green- eyed monster, he conveyed himself to the barracks, and gave information of the whereabouts of Mr. Swodgcrs. The result was that a file of men, headed by a corporal, was ordered to proceed to tho house of THE THEATRICAL AGENT. A PORTRAIT. Who is it seeks to make a do, By doing novices a few, And better known than trusted, too? The Agent! Who gets his victims in a scrape, And from a quarrel to escape, Discovers then he's but an " ape?" The Agent! Who daily swears that he'll begin To drink of nothing else but gin, That is, if he can " scurf" the tin? The Agent! Who, when the money comes in slow, Will send an actor— if he'll go— To Timbtictoo or Jericho? The Agent! Who with the dog becomes a star, But finds out people thinking are, The d'- g a better actor fur? The Agent! Who to the prayer- book's such a debtor, And knows it than the curate better, The " Burial Service " to the letter? ' Hie Agent! Who, when he's getting jolly drunk, About his dog begins to funk, And surely thinks it time to " bunk?" The Agent! Who at his tricks when people wonder, Shouts, in a voice of beer and thunder, That he'd do anything for " plunder?" The Agent! To prove, since now my song's complete, That malice doesn't fill this sheet, Just now I mean to go and treat, The Agent! " Go, little book," upon thy ways, I hope to find in many days, Having reformed, thou'lt only praise, The Agent! " The Harp," Great Russell- street. HOW THEY DO SAILORS IN LONDON. " WE ARE GOING TO CREMORNE GARDENS." " WE are going to Cremorne Gardens," such is the exclamation of our Sunday snobs, now that the genuine jolly July weather has come upon the dwellers of the great village, " Cre- morne! Cremorne!! Cremorne!!!'' nothing but Cremorne, ( Continued from No. 3.) The crimps stared with astonishment at the observation of the sailor, but were perfectly astounded when they saw the sailors turn upon their heels and enter the public- house. " This will never do," said Haveum, breaking the silence, " we mus'nt fall out amongst ourselves ; these fellows, I guess, must have overheard us. Yonder comes Mother Barge, she seems down in the mouth too." To their enquiries, the lady- like creature responded by detailing a series of misfortunes that had occurred to her of quite as serious a character. " I went on board the vessel," she commenced, " as my usual custom, and was about to give my old friends a glass of old Tom, when the carpenter arx's me if he should draw the cork for me, and, upon his getting hold of the bottle, he pours the whole con- tents over the ship's side; he pretended it was an accident; and upon my giving him another from my reticule, as soon a » he got it, he whirled it round his head and threw it out of the ship; and when I complained to the seaman they all began hooting aud laughing at me, so that I was glad to get here with whole bones, or without a ducking ; for some of the fellows swore— no they did'nt swear, or I should have some hopes of them— but declared I had poisoned the ship's crew." " Something mu6t be done," said Haveum, " or we shall all be ruined. I propose we form ourselves into a erimp and lodging- house union." " Very good," answered Mother Barge ; " it was you, I think, who proposed the showy gin- palace dodge— and the having pri- vate rooms behind the public- houses in Ratcliffe- highway— sf that our lushy friends might be conveyed quietly to our houses; but come, don't let us stand talking in the streets, Haveum, and have a drain of the cream of the valley." " Why I don't know about cream of the valley," simpered out Haveum, thrusting his hands into his pockets, as if to hold fast the coin. " I don't feel as how I can take anything more; our confounded ill- luck this morning has almost capsized me." " Thou gin- loving sot, at another's expense," vociferated the discerning Mrs. Barge ; " you can't take any more, eh ? tricks upon old travellers wont do. I've had my mettle touched to- day already ; and I'll not bear another insult aud fraud from any one, and from you, Mr. Haveum, least of all. Did'nt I stand the last treat ?" roared out the infuriated woman. " Out of my way," continued the. virago to Nailum, as she sprang furiously towards the now trembling Haveum; " out of my way and I'll leave a receipt in full upon his sponging face, if these good finger- nails of mine don't deceive me— or I'll squeeze his wizen so as to make him long for drink when he won't be able to swallow it— out of my way, I say." " Let's have no fighting in the street, Mrs. Barge,'' interposed Nailum, " we know Haveum of old— he is a regular dunghill— a thing that has no pluck; but reccollect our respectability is at stake ; I would not for the priie of twenty pints of the cream of the valley we should lose that, it is indeed now the only thing we have to depend upon. I'll stand treat. Let's join and consider what we are to do; and as for Mr. Haveum, as he can't drink any more, why we can do without him, and we shan't require his com- pany any more." " Mrs. Barge," observed Haveum, " you wrong me, ' pon my honour you do— I never intended to behave so meanly as you have stated. It is true that I did'nt just 1t'. I could take any more; however, I'll try ; the bad SUC^ JSS of this morning is discouraging ; and I, that is— The kindling wrath which he saw in the flashing eyo of! Irs, Barge, whose clenched fist appeared prepared for a m.-' Lious attack upon his os frontis, alarmed the stam mering creature to calm down, which he declared that although he might not b » able to drink, he so highly applauded the suggestion of his es^ teemed friend, Nailum, that he wished above all things to consider it over a pint of the cream of the valley. The compliment paid to Nailum acted as he wished and ex- pected ; he very warmly defended Haveum, although, in his heart he believed him an arrant villain, while Mrs. Barge, moved by the advice of Nailum, passed by the supposed meanness of their gulling friend, and in softened tones observed :— " Eh, very well, Mr. Haveum, if that's what you mean we have no objection ; you will be able to take a small quantity with us, and if not, why Mr. Nailum and myself will prove ourselves your firm friend by taking your share for you.'' Matters being thus amicably settled, the original plan was fact the shopocracy are becoming mad about this Chelsea ; agreed to; they entered the house and procured a pint of the vsalis. Tti No. 8 of THE TOWN, in an art. ie. le on the Tea ! rream nf the. vallpv tww wV, i„ h hoi I H...... — i chrysalis. In No. 8 of THE TO WN, in an article on the Tea Gardens of London, we briefly alluded to Cremorne. The Sunday season had not then, however, fully set in. It is now, note the " Lion of London," and an individual would no more think of leaving the metropolis without visiting Cremorne than he would of going to Paris, and not looking at Notre Dame, or the Gar dens of the Tuilleries. The White Conduit, Montpeilier, Cumber- land, and other gardens, all sink into insignificance eveu in their best days, when compared with the patronage bestowed upon, and the attractions to be found at this place. We, however, re- member Cremorne, a very, very different sort of place, the Sta- dium as it was originally c ailed, being a very poor, dozey, damp, dead- alive affair. Cremorne, must not, however, be set down by matter of fact cousins from the country, as exclusively snobbish, though, perforce, there are to be found here, as at all places of public promenade, a vast number of gents. The enter tainments are of a character that deserves, and, indeed, obtain, the patronage of the best families in town. Jullien's fame, as con- ductor, has been very materially affected by Laurent, the con- ductor at this place, who certainly possesses one of the most com- pact bands in the metropolis ; and the illuminations and general appointments, are quite equal to the best things done at Vaux- hall. Certainly, since the piercing blast of niggardness and fru- gality has passed over the once royal property, Cremorne bears the palm. It was whilst on a visit to a friend in the neighbour- hood of Chelsea, last Sunday, in company with the young man " wot cuts his wood" once a week, for our stupendous print, we noticed the stream of heavy togged swells, making towards this suburban retreat, and our artist amused with the appearance of a few of the toddlers, made a sketch of two of the characters, as they were entering the river gate. Behold then, reader of London Life, two of the visitors of Cremorne togged out in all the elaborations of sabbath splendour. Look at the lengthy edition of feminine materialism, how large she loometh, behold what an amplitude of satin surroundeth her; walled up in silk, she looks the walking illustration of the lady for whose death the bonnet builders of Cranbourn- alley put up shutters, and some of the West- end dress- makers mounted crape and half mourning. Of a truth she is the real Cremorne Sunday- going lady. She is anxious to enter at the river gate; but her male friend would fain disport himself a short time longer, and gaze upon the visitors. " Come m, Ducky," she whisperetb. ( See cut.) There is a smile— did we say a smile?— yes a smile, upon his antique facial outfit; and— and he consents. But shall we dis- miss this paragon of snobs snmmarily? No !— Forbid it, shade of Brummell ; Genius of Schneiders, look down upon one of thy most devoted followers, and gain for him immortality, in the columns of " LONDON LIFE." But how, how shall we do justice to such a character? How find words to express our admiration of the architect, who could have constructed such a pair of trousers, or the daring of the mind that could venture publicly within ' em. Of what Columbus- likeeapacitymust be the brain who couldsug- , gest such a pair of " feet furbishers;" fain would we dilate upon the " thatch- defender," and pass astragglirg observation upon the parachute. But how— how we repeat— can it be done? Reader of " LONDON LIFE," it can't be done. Go next Sunday and gaze upon the originals in CREMORNE. cream of the valley, over which they held deep cogitations until they had drunk so deep in the cream, that all power of cogitation was at an end ; what may be the ultimatum of the sitting of this philanthropic triumvirate will be a fitting subject for a future number. ( To be continued.) WOMAN. Oft to herself she reasons on her state, What is the cause that can such thoughts create ?* Springs it from nature that our bosoms rise, And wanton wishes sparkle in our eyes ? What, then, are all the lessons prudes have taught, If nature teaches us, sure tis no fault ? They have disguised their sentiments with art, And spoke a different language to the heart. Who reason against nature reason wrong, Her arguments will always prove too strong j For all the philosophic pride of verse, Though musty Plato teach them to rehearse. Ask for what use the bosom seems to rise ; " Why, to be gently pressed," each Miss replies. For mankind nature wakes her genial power, And sure virginity's a pleasing flower! And errs not woman from great nature's walk, To let the flower e'er wither on the stalk ? No, let me choose the yout. li of proper size, Let censure blame me, and let prudes oespise. Increase and multiply is Heaven's command, And sure that text I dearly understand. 0 LEAVE THY HOME. BY FREDERICK AUGUSTUS BEAVAN. O leave thy home, my bright- eyed girl, And roam in Cremorne paths with me, Nor keep from view, like hidden pearl, That lies concealed beneath the wave. Then leave thy home, oh, leave thy homo, And, love, in gardens gay we'll roam. Light, nature placed in thy sweet eyes, To show thy charms so dazzling fair, And stole two stars from azure skies, Thy face to deck in beauties rare. Then leave thy home, oh, leave thy home, And, lovo, in gardens gay we'll roam. We'll go, my love, my own dear maid, Where music sighs to see t. hy form, Where sweet flowers of beauties' shade, When r. ear thee, love, are trod with scorn. Then leave thy home, oh, leave thy home, And, lovo, ill gardens gay we'll roam. THE TOWN. 3 j& cttrrs to ( ttomspontientg. " Mrs. Lorlmer Spinks" will be completed in eight numbers, about which period the " French Lady of Fashion " will he brought to a conclusion, for the purpose of making room for a tale of startling interest, forcibly illustrative of London life and manners. Many of the incidents in Mrs. Lorimcr Spinks are founded on fact— the death of Sarah's child, and the scene with Varden, for instance, in the present number. A YOUNG AUTHOHKSS, ( Exeter).— Mr. W. Farren is an excellent jadge of a piece, and if your's is a good one, and likely to run long, he may probably not only look at it, but make use of it. As he is not now so young as formerly, he does not like the part too heavy; something short, and that he may enter into without much trouble or study, is likely to suit him. SEMPER, ( Oakley- street, Lambeth).— What the blazes do we care if old Mother Thompson and her three dress- lodgers ware at the masquerade at Vauxliall on the 6th inst. They were drunk enough at Jessop's at five the next morning, and the Jermyn- street swell had to fork out the rowdcy rathey stiffly for the night's spree. For the other matter, write to Mother Brioe, Brownlow- street, Drury- lane. • The Neglected Peerage of Great Britain."— The first part of this work has been received. The lives of the late Lady Barry- more, Lady Mansfield, of Newcastle- court, and the Marchioness D'Straddle, are under consideration. S. H., ( Manchester).— It is a slang term for crimp. A RUM CODGER, ( Glasgow).— With regard to your little anec- dotes, we feel deeply sensible for your kindness; but, although no doubt new to you, and also to the " gude folk of Glasgow,'' they are all as old as the hills to Londoners. The work you allude to is discontinued. PICKLBS MIXED.— We have not forgotten you, and shall write shortly, when we wish you to put us in possession of a little important private local information. " THB SWELL'S NIGHT GUIDE."— Our correspondent " Javena- lis," is mistaken, not a line of the guide was ever written by the Lord Chief Baron Nicholson. The title, and, indeed, the whole of the work, being from the pen of the author of " Mrs. Lorimer Spinks," and was published originally by Haddon, Pickett- street, Strand, at half- a- guinea. It may now be had of Mr. W. Winn for two shillings and sixpence. M. D. A.— Not suitable to our columns. L. L. LAETS, ( Martlett's- eourt).— We know all abont the manner in which the poses ptastiquc company was got up for the Man- chester Caiino. Tho party you allude to has very peculiar reasons for not going bv his right name. CASTLB- STREKT, HOLBORN.— The City authorities certainly ought to interfere and put down such a system of public rob- bery. The place is thronged with thieves and Jew fence- keepers. O. P. Q.— It is something more than probable that the Garriek's Head, Bow- street, will, ere the commencement of next term, resume the sittings of the Jttdga and Jury, under the superin- tendence of the Lord Chief Baron Nicholson, assisted by the celebrated double of Lord Brougham. CAUSTIC, ( Lambeth- walk).— The Fountain, in Catherine- street, Strand, is the only regluarly licensed brothel in the three kingdoms. JACK G— Y, ( Leman- street).— The fellow is a rank shizur, and known at all the night- houses about Wapping. P. P. R. ( Carlisle).— Why don't you send us a dozen or two of Watts's hymn- books? A QUEER FRIEND, ( Stony S ratford)— Asks a queer question. We don't, however, know whether Mr. Lorimer Spinks dies or not. We have no doubt, however, if you particularly wish it, the author will put him out of the way. SILBNUS ( Lower Brompton).— Tom Barry, the clown, is in Ame- rica. He never lived with either Mrs. Charles Kean, or thelate Mother Emmerson. W m, ( Sheffield)—" Ax ' em"—" V. G. B."—" Tom Walker," ( Manchester), " E. W.," and otheis, received, and, in due course, shall be attended to. " Why don't you get Married " is deferred, in consequence of the press of advertisements. " WIDO," ( Oxford).— We were glad to receive your letter, and felt surprised at your silence. Let us know how a line will reach you privately. MEMOIR OF A FRENCH IADY OF FASHION. ( Continued from our last.) " I will go." " Is it come to this?'' I was too far advanced to retrogade, and besides, the girl con- founded me. This mixture of gaiety, of melancholy, of candour, of prostitution; her malady, even, which had developed in her the irritability of sentiments like the irritability of the nerves, all this produced in me an ardent desire to possess her. I compre- hended that if, from the first moment, I did not assume an em- pire over this forgetful and fickle nature, I was lost, and I felt myself really capable of dying for her. " Well, what you say is serious, then?" she said. " Quite serious." " But why did you not tell me this before?" " When should I have said it to you?" " The day after that on which you were preiented to me at the Opera Comique." " I think you would have received me but coolly if I had visited you." " Why?" " Because I had shown my stupidity the night before." " It's true. But still, you already loved me at that period?" " Yes." " Which did not prevent your sleeping after the perform- ance." " Well, do vou know what I did on that night?" " No." " I waited for yon at the door of the Cafe Anglais, I followed the carriage that conducted you and your three friends, and when I saw you descend alone, and enter your house alone, I was very liappy." Marguerite burst into a laugh. " At what are you laughing?" I said. " At nothing." " Tell me, I entreat you, or I shall think that you are again jesting at me.'' " You will not be angry." " By what right should I be angiy?" " Well, I had a verv good reason for entering alone." " What was that?" " Because there was some one waiting for me here." Had she thrust a poignard into me, I should not have felt it more. I rose, and presenting her my hand: " Adieu," I said to her. " I knew well you would get in a rage. Men are always in a hurry to learn that which must bo painful to them." " But I assure yon," I added, in a cold tone, as if determined to prove to her that I was for ever cured of my passion, " I as- sure you that I am not angry. It was quite natural that some one should be awaiting you, as it is quito natural that I should go home at three o'clock in the morning." " Have you, also, some one waiting for you at your rooms 1" " No, but I must leave,'' " Adieu, then." " You dismiss me." « ' Not the least in the world." " Why do you hurt me?'' " What harm have I done?" " By telling me that some one was waiting for you." " I could not help laughing at the idea that you were so happy at seeing me enter alone, when there was so good a reason for t." " We often make a joy of a felly, and it is wicked to destroy this joy when, by allowing it to exist, we may render still more happy him who experiences it." But with whom, then,, do you fancy you have an affair? I am neither a maid nor a married woman. I know you to- day for the first time, and I do not owo you an account of my actions. Even admitting that one day I become your mistress, you must well know that I have other lovers besides you. If you already, get up these scenes of jealousy before, what will it be, then, after if this after ever exists ? 1 never knew such a man as you." " Because no one ever loved you as I love." " Well, then, frankly, you really love me." " As much as it is possible to love, I think.'' " And this has been the case since?" " Since a day when I saw you descend from a caleche and enter the shop of Tasse, three years ago." " Do you know, this is all very fine! Well, what must I do to acknowledge tttis great love ?' " You must love me a little," I Baid, with a beating at the heart that almost prevented my speaking, for, despite the half- jesting smiles with which she accompanied the question, I fancied that Marguerite began to share my emotion, and that I approached the hour so long waited for. " Well, and the duke ?' she said. " What duke?" " My jealous old friend." " He will know nothing about it." " And if he finds it out?" " He will pardon you." " No; he will abandon me, and what will become of me!" " But you risk this abandonment for another?" " How do you know that?" " From th « orders that you gave to allow no one to enter to- night." " It's true, but this one is a serious friend." " Upon whom you set no great value, since you forbid him your door at such an hour." " It is not for you to reproach me with it, since it was to receive you and your friend." By degrees I had approached Marguerite, I had passed my arm round her waist, and I felt her supple figure rest slightly on my willing arm. " If you knew liovr I love you," I said to her, softly. " Is it quite true?" " I swear to you." " Well, if you promise to do all I wish without saying a word, without making an observation to me, without questioning me, I shall love yon, perhaps," " Your every wish." " But I forewarn you, I will be free to do just as I please, with- out giving you the least detail as to my life. I have long sought tor a lover, young without a will, amorous without suspicion, loved without privileges. I have never been enabled to find one. The men, instead of being satisfied at our granting them fre- quently that which they scarcely hoped to obtain for once, expect from their mistresses an account of the past, the present, and even the future. In proportion as they get accustomed to her, they wish to govern her, and they become the more exacting as they obtain all they desire. If I take a fresh lover now, I require him to have three very rare qualities; that lie be confiding, submissive, and discreet." " And amorous?" " That is not a condition, but a necessary." " Well, I will be all vou wish." " We shall see." " And when shall we see?" " Another time." " Why so." " Because," said Marguerite, disengaging herself from my arms and taking from a large boquet, brought the same morning, a camelia which she passed through my button hole, " because we do not always execute treaties the day they are signed." The look and the smile with which she accompanied the words I cannot describe. " And when shall 1 see you again ?" I said pressing her in my arms. " When this camelia is faded." " And when will it have faded ?" " To- morrow night from eleven to twelve. Are you satis- fied ?'' " You ask me ?" " Not a word of all this either to your friend or to Prudence, or any one.'' " I promise it you." " Now kiss me and let us return to the supper- room." She presented her lips to me, again arranged her hair, and we left the chamber, she singing, I half delirious. In the 6aloon she said to me softly, and stopping ; " It must appear to you very strange that I seem ready to ac- cept you thus at once ; do you know the reason of it? It is,'' she said, taking my hand and pressing it to her heart whose violent and repeated palpitations I felt beneath it, " it is that having a shorter time to live than the others, I have promised myself to live faster." " Do not speak to me thus," I said to Marguerite, kissing her hands. " Oh! console yourself," she continued with a laugh. " Short time as I have to live, I shall live longer than you will love me," and she entered the supper- room singing. " Where is Nanine ?" she said, seeing Eugene and Prudence alone. " She is asleep in your bedroom, waiting till you retire," replied Prudence. " Poor girl!" said Marguerite; " come, gentlemen, retire, it is time." ( To be continued). In the game season he makes game of some of the station- clerks, who know no better, by requesting them to purchase a fine hare or two, a brace of pheasants, or a leash of partridges for him, as reasonable as possible; he shall be returning to town the next morning, and will take them with him, and they are silly enough, after paying for the same, to beg his acceptance of them as a mere trifle; he is quite welcome; they will not hear of his being at any expense; they could not listen to anything of the kind. This is the very tiling the Modsl Accountant's Clerk was aiming at; he perceives he has got them in a line; the bait takes, and he angles in a like manner for as many gudgeons as will bite. He gulls open- hearted farmers, and others, by his accommodating disposition, being always ready to receive presents of all sorts and sizes, from a sack of potatoes down to a Yarmouth bloater. Bags of nuts, nosegays, bundles of asparagus, new- laid eggs, barrels of stout, baskets of apples, onions, or garden- stuff, hams, or a little in the poultry way; in fact, anything he can gammon the flats out of. He has several funny ways, one of which is, to beckon to a platform- porter to lock hiin in a first- class carriage, so that he may have the entire compartment to himself, and aot be inconvenienced by the presence of testy passengers. He mounts a cigar ( which he " cadged " of a fellow- clerk), igniting it from a fuzee ere the train has barely left the terminus; smoking is strictly prohibited, but, being a railway servant, he is, of course, the first person to set an example contrary to the regula- tions of the company. On Sundry occasions, he has a friend with him in a coupee, and endeavours to enliven the journey by doing a trifle in the vocal line, breaking out in a fresh place every now and then, with added verses of " Paddy Miles," to " Mrs. John- son," or, " Susannak, don't you cry for me," " For my name tt is Sam Hall." Infatuated creature ! He fancies, for the time, he is a fastwh fast- man, and can do half- an- hoar in twenty minutes; instead of which, he is as slow as a Parliamentary train on a wet Sunday; he is also labouring under the impression that he is a aobby sort of fellow, and not a bit too fat, and many other mental delusions of a similar nature. He suddenly has the stopper clapped upon him, in a way he does not anticipate. He is coming the amiable one day to a strange lady in the car- riage in which he ii, and persists in forcing his conversation upon her, notwithstanding several times being requested to desist from so doing; and it subsequently transpires that she is the wife of one of the directors. He thinks the affair will blow over and pass unnoticed, but he is soon undeceived ; the insulted party tells her husband, an in- vestigation takes place, and the Model Accountant's Clerk is known, reported, had up before the Board, severely censured, compelled to apologise, and is Anally discharged in disgrace, and leaves the company's service with a damaged character, univer- sally disliked by everybody who knew him. PlCKLItSMIXED. N C H, Now Publishing, No. 5 of THE PENNY PU A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK, Illustrated by the first Artists of the day 41 YOUNG PUNCH," having established his Title with his Father's con- nexion, begs to say his Stock will be found composed of First- rate Articles, warranted of the most superior quality; and, as Peter Pindar said of the razors—" Certain to keep you from crying, if you can only keep your- self from laughing." Those who relish true Wit and Whim, Fun and Facetise, intermingled with delightful Tales, to please and instruct tho mind, will buy the " PENNY PUNCH." CONTENTS. 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Those who study real eco- nomy may save a Urge sum of money, and also add considerably to tho comforts of home. Numerous useful and approved Receipts of the utmost consequence to females, whether Maids, Wives, or Widows, and the prac- tice of which will quickly prove the folly of emigrating when you can save gold at home, One Penny. AN ABSTRACT of the PAWNBROKERS' ACT, with an Interest Table, showing the amount payable upon pledges for Ons Shilling and upwards, from one to twelve months, One Fenny. THE PENNY DOMESTIC COOKERY BOOK. THE BALL- ROOM MANUAL; being a complete Multum in Parvo Compendium of the Art of Dancing. Twopence. The whole of the above works to be had of W, WINK, 34, Holywell- strwt, Strand, London. THE MODEL ACCOUNTANT'S CLERK. He is a heavy man, both in weight and his own opinion, and although short- necked, is exceedingly long- winded. He is the first to put his hand into his pocket to pay, but the last to take it out again, such practice being merely a feint on his part to in- duce others to believe he is alarmingly anxious to settle for what had been ordered, but could not extract his digits in time to pre- vent some one else, rather more verdant than himself, doing the needful. He has brass enough in his face to supply any thickly- populated village with candlesticks, supposing you included his jewellery at a fair valuation. He has been jack of all trades, and is master of none, and before he came the fag and done the toady business to the chief accountant, was employed upon the railway n various other departments. He goes up and down the line almost daily, first to one station and then to another, looking the respective agents up as to the state of their books in general, and balances in particular. He inquires how the outstandings are; hopes the monthly bills are pretty well considering; trusts the porter's settling- book is a little better, and presumes ( which he does) that the accounts altogether are in a remarkably healthy condition. lie is very cross because they do not send in their weekly forms more regular. He is really much annoyed by their not forwarding them to his office in due course. Why, it was only the other week that he actually did not receive the returns until nearly one hour after the time appointed for them to be sent in, and such gross ncglect is too glaring to need further commentary. PRIVATE, IMPORTANT, AND PRACTICAL HINT8. Price 6d. ; post free, 8d. On all SECRET DISORDERS, by H. WALTON, M. R. C. 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