MRS. BROWN'S BOTTLE-JACK. 'OWEVER parties can bring their minds for to be that false puzzles me as am not one as is took in easy neither, through a-seein' as far into a stone wall as my neighbours, but when any one comes for to speak to you fair, face to face, why you do not look for falsehood in every word the same as that feller told me about my bottle-jack. I've 'ad it now over seventeen years, and bought it second-'and a regular bargain at a broker's shop in the Mile-End road, in the name of JACKSON as I think were the Ebrer persuasion, but a fair dealin' man I will say, for I'ad a good many things on 'im as I was a-pickin' up cheap through 'avin' moved as'll always require new things, and I'm sure I quite dreads the thought on, though the drains in our place is low fever at every breath you takes, and BROWN a-goin' on as he can't smell nothink, but'll get a buster some day.

Well, as I was a-sayin' about the bottle-jack, I was reg'lar put out with it, for I was left alone with a bit of chump end of the loin of weal, as we was a-goin' to 'ave for dinner on the Sunday, and as the fruit pie were gone to the oven, I let the gal go to chapel; and said as I'd mind the jint, with only a summer cabbage to bile as is a thing I'm partial to afore they gets too strong.

The gal she left the weal all ready, but puttin' it on to the bottlejack as I did with my own hands and winds it up; but there it stood stock still as the sayin' is, so I give it another turn and 'eard it give a click and then it would not turn no more at all, so I 'ad to go and get a skein of worsted and dangle that weal, and a nice time I 'ad a-watchin' as it didn't burn as it would 'ave done if I'adn't kep on atwistin' of it constant, and the weather that 'ot I were pretty nigh sweltered to death, and glad I was when the beer come round, as I took in a pint, a-orderin' the boy to bring two pots at half-past one precise, when we was a-goin' to dine.

Mr. and Mrs. ODLIN was a comin', bein' old friends, as I ain't see for over nine years through their a-takin' a public 'ouse out near Aldershot.

I wish as I'd been behind that minister as were a-preachin', and keepin' that gal till past one o'clock and not a bit of cloth laid, as I couldn't do it myself through a-watchin' that weal, and BROWN a-comin' in a-botherin' about all manner, as is 'is ways whenever you've got your 'ands full a-ready, and wanted 'is welweteen coat out as is put away in my 'air trunk under the bed in the back room. says "You don't want it to-day."

I

He says "I do, and if you can't fetch it I will."

So I says "I'll go," for I don't 'old with a-lettin' 'im go a-pullin' my places about, so I asks him to give a eye to the weal and goes up for 'is coat as in course he let burn in that instant, and is a nasty 'eavy thing to wear, but that's 'is contrary ways.

Mr. and Mrs. ODLIN they come afore the gal was in an' me not got my gownd on, as I were a-waitin' for 'er to fasten through its bein' a black silk as I've 'ad by me for years and put on out of respect to Mrs. ODLIN as 'ad buried 'er mother the day before, as is what brought them up to town, not as the old lady cut up well, as the sayin' is, though over ninety and bedridden into the bargain.

We 'ad a werry nice 'omely dinner, and I must say as ODLIN is werry pleasant company, but she've a nasty 'abit of fallin' asleep the moment as she sets down arter dinner and aggrawates me by a-swearin' as she ain't asleep but only a-listenin', as 'er snores proves to be falsehoods.

They was a-goin' to dine with us agin the next Sunday through ODLIN a-promisin' me a suckin'-pig, as is a thing as a little on goes a great way, as the sayin' is, so I says, "The fust thing as I'll do is to get that bottle-jack set to rights," and as it 'appened the werry next mornin' who should come round but a knives and scissors to grind as I'd seen about the place afore.

I was in the front gardin' and he says to me over the railin's, "Any knives or scissors to grind ?"

I says "No;" and then I thought about the bottle-jack and says to 'im, "If you was a bottle-jack maker I could talk to you."

He says, "That's what I were brought up to as is my trade." I "Oh indeed!" then I says, "You can tell me what's the matter with mine, as 'ave got its inside out of order."

says,

He says,

"I'll tell you in a minit, if you'll let me see it." So I ollers to the gal to give it me, and 'ands it to that feller, as shakes it about a good deal and listens to it, and then says, "If you'll let me take it away with me, I'll bring it back the day arter to morrer as good as Ah, but " I "'Ow much will it come to ?"-for I knows as things ain't made as good as new for nothink." He says, "It'll come to three and sixpence."

new.

says,

I says, "Then I won't 'ave it done, for it only cost ten shillins." He says, "I'll do it for 'arf-a-crown, for work is slack with me jest

now."

I says, "No. I can buy a common spindle as 'll answer my purpose for that." "Well," he says, "Say eighteenpence, that won't 'urt you." I didn't like to beat 'im down no more, so he took the bottle-jack,

a-promisin' it back the day arter to-morrow. Well, more than three days past, and he never come, and I was in a bit of a fidget up to Friday, for the pig come that werry evenin', and BROWN, a-goin' on a-sayin' as the jack were gone for ever.

It was the middle of the day, Saturday, as that chap brought it back, and I give 'im a bit of my mind over it, keepin' it so long. So he says, "I've 'ad a nice job with it, and I'm sure eighteen pence don't pay me nor arf pay me; but," he says, "I don't ask no more, and you'll find it'll act beautiful."

BROWN, he wanted me to send that pig to the oven, but I can't a-bear no baked wittles, as always tastes of the oven, so I got the pig ready in good time, and told the gal to put it down exact by the clock, so as not to 'ave it done too much, nor yet too little.

She come up to my room in less than ten minits, and says, as she could'nt do nothink with that bottle-jack, as wouldn't ever turn. So down I goes and puts the key in it, and sure enough it was reglar useless. I don't think as ever I did 'ave such a job as roastin' of that pig, as would burn one side and keep quite pale the other, and when it come to table I was quite ashamed on it; tho' both Mr. and Mrs. ODLIN praised it, but BROWN's sister Jane and her gal, 'ad come over, and they kep' a-sneerin' at that pig all dinner.

Altogether I couldn't enjoy myself a bit, and was glad when they was all gone, for ODLIN and 'is wife got to words over her mother's bit of property as she'd been and left some away to 'er servant as 'ad nussed 'er faithful, and quite right too; but ODLIN was put out because they 'adn't nussed the old lady theirselves, as wouldn't'ave the trouble of 'er, and in course lost some of the money.

The werry first thing Monday mornin, I goes off to the ironmonger's shop with that bottle-jack, and asks the man in the shop whatever was the matter with it. "Matter with it," says he, "matter enough; why whatever 'ave you been up to with it." I says, "Nothink only 'avin' it repaired." "Repaired," says he, "it is repaired; why every bit of the inside 's been took out, it's reglar gutted."

I says, "pr'aps the party 'ave took it to repair it and 'ave forgot to put it back agin.' He says, "That he have, but who is he?" I says, "A party as comes round with a barrer, a-grindin' knives with a wheel, an' a pot of fire a-'angin' in front." "Oh," he says, "you give it to 'im to repair did you. Well, then he's been and took out the works as was worth somethink."

Why," I says, "I've paid 'im eighteen pence to do it." "Well then," he says, "he's made about four shillin's out of the job, as ain't a bad day's work for one of them trampin' wagabones."

"Why," he says, "you could 'ave 'ad a new one for a pound, and I'd 'ave allowed you what's reasonable for the old one; but that's jest like people, they won't give a respectable shopkeeper a chance to live, an' 'ad rather be robbed by them costers."

I says, "he ain't no coster." "Well," he says, "Never mind what he is, he's been and done you," and give a laugh as aggrawated me. I could 'ave cried with wexation, for I'd been a pitchin' into BROWN, Saturday night, for sayin' as the feller wouldn't bring it back, and when I told 'im 'ow I'd been served, he nearly choked 'isself a-larfin', and I 'eard say as that two-faced Mrs. ODLIN went away and said, as the old sayin' was true about the devil a-sendin' the cooks for I'd been and spilt a reglar picter of a suckin'-pig, as I'd been and sent up like a reglar burnt sacrifice, as did put me out, but I shall ketch that chap some day, and then let 'im look out.

WE looked in at the Adelphi a few evenings ago to see "Much Ado About Nothing," and we came away very much disappointed in the performance. MR. CLARKE'S Dogberry struck us as the best bit of acting in the play, and MR. STUART'S Leonato as the worst. The remainder of the gentlemen employed in it may be termed-for want of a better word-" conscientious;" they were neither an inch below nor an inch above what we had expected them to be. MESSRS. NEVILLE, BILLINGTON, PHILLIPS, and ASHLEY are exactly the same in Messina as anywhere else; not one of them went a step out of his way to look for character-or, if he did, the step was wasted and the character not found. MISS KATE TERRY (who is a very good actress in spite of the gentlemen who tell her that she is a very great one) played Beatrice with spirit and tenderness; but she missed a fine point. When the lady has confessed her love in a sweet speech, Benedict bursts out with, "Come, bid me do anything for thee;" and Beatrice accepts the offer of service in a couple of words, "Kill Claudio." In our opinion MISS TERRY pronounced this little sentence as though she were suggesting some exceedingly humorous practical joke. She might have said, "Make Claudio an apple-pie bed," or "Give Claudio a cold pig to-morrow morning," in the same tone. It was not the utterance of a woman who risks the life of a lover to avenge the slander of a sister. MISS TERRY startled us also by one or two repetitions which we have not met with in any edition of SHAKESPEARE. The stage management of this house continues as awful as ever. Dogberry and Verges, accompanied by the watch, hold their first conference in front of a stuccoed house that might have been finished yesterday at the corner of a new square; and Leonato gives a grand entertainment on the strength of possessing three or four settees (apparently second-hand), and a green baize drugget, nearly as full of patches as the mainsail of a Yorkshire billy-boy. But these little failings are always expected at the Adelphi. C'est une spécialité comme une autre.

That vivacious and volatile being, CHARLES MATHEWS, created quite

SLEEPS.

ABOVE his fellows is he blest
Who wins by working welcome rest,
When life's accomplished labour bids
Sweet sleep descend on weary lids!

What comfort, too, 'mid wants and woes
To snatch a moment of repose-

In slumber's arms to find relief
From fading joy and growing grief!

And, ah, when sickness racks the brain,
How sweet is slumber after pain,
What strength renewed such slumber brings,
That comes with healing on its wings!

Nay, passing sweet in autumn weather,
After a day-long tramp through heather,
Tired limbs upon a couch to drop,
And fall asleep like any top.

Ah, sweet is this-and sweet are those
Fore-mentioned manners of repose,
But sweeter far, as I'm a sinner,
Are forty winks just after dinner!

WHY?

I WILL not sing to thee to-night,
My song would be in vain:
And yet 'twould give my soul delight
To breathe a tender strain.

Why should I sing a loving lay?
Why tune the minstrel's lyre?
"Twere throwing melody away,
A thing I don't admire.

Why should I sing a song in vain ?
Thou would'st not note my song.
And in that case it's very plain
To sing to thee were wrong:

Indeed, I should but seem bereft

Of sense to carol thus,

Because you're deaf, love, and you left Your trumpet in the 'bus.

a sensation the other night by playing in "Cool as a Cucumber" at the have wound up his evening by running over to Paris and giving Olympic, and in "Un Anglais Timide" at the St. James's. He should "L'Homme Blasé" at the Vaudeville. We shall not be able to die happy until we have seen CHARLES MATHEWS in one of GOLDONI'S comedies. Why doesn't he set about it? He can speak Italian quite as fluently as the tongue of his fathers.

RECOLLECTIONS OF COOPER.

I LIKE your manner, FENNIMORE-
"Tis free and open-airy.

With you I've traversed o'er and o'er
The ocean and the prairie.
Your tales have led me here and there,
Since long ago, by Jingo:
And still I love the Delaware,
And still I hate the Mingo.
Methinks I hear the crack again,
Of Leatherstocking's rifle;
I laugh at peril and at pain,
And fancy death a trifle.

I breathe a freer, fresher air,
I speak the redman's lingo;
And still I love the Delaware,
And still I hate the Mingo.

A Circular Note.

AN eminent mathematician, who has solved the problem of "squaring "the round of the papers." the circle," is now engaged in defining the exact circumference of

THE eccentricities of "shop"

To nicer feelings show road,

RHYME.

We find young girls thought worth "a chop," By principals at Bow-road.

A sirloin's all that FLO will fetch,

And MILLY scare a button!

She's only worth say, at a stretch,
A neck or leg of mutton.

MISS CAROLINE will yield some string
For tying up a dumpling,

And VIOLET a net will bring

To keep girls' hair from crumpling.

And as to pretty ISABEL,

Who always loves to frisk it,

She'll stand her principal some-well,
Some pickles and a brisket.

There's MABEL, with the lustrous eyes,
The pretty baker's daughter,

Will bring materials for pies,

And AMY, Cologne water.

While little Loo will surely do

To fill with BASS a chalice,

And MARY JANE will stand champagne,
And butter, little ALICE.

Each little one will bring a bun-
Girls eating is a tall-work-

And parlour boarders jam afford,
Blacklead the maid of all work.

When each has brought her complement,
Although to teach her fate is,

The governess will be content

To keep the household "gratis."

THE REAL "GAME CHICKEN."-The one who remained in his shell till it was chipped at the breakfast-table.

Courtly Language.

HISTORICAL.

It is time that courtly language should be looked to. In the Early Years of the Prince Consort we find a distinguished personage speaking of a "mutual grandmother," because, we suppose, it would be rude to say a "common grandmother," like an ordinary mortal. The other day, too, the Court Circular, in one of its leaders, stated that it would have been an unprofitable occupation for "the Attorney or SolicitorGeneral to have employed their time in conducting actions," &c. Perhaps the editor of the C. C. or the leader-writer will profitably occupy their time in studying English grammar, or, at least, the part relating to disjunctive conjunctions.

Answers to Correspondents.

WHY, 'E'S THE

[We cannot return rejected MSS. or sketches unless they are accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope.]

BOOKWORM cannot be permitted to bore through our pages. W. G. (Cheapside.)-You may think your lines verse, but they are the re-verse. E. M. (Dublin).-The dodge is a little too transparent. We recognised the style and hand, though you sign "E. W., Bloomsbury," this time! DRAMA (Reform Club) is referred to the Times supplement of this day. CONSTANT READER.-We don't see our way to doing it.

R. B.-We cannot agree to an R. B.-tration. "LINES BY FITZ-JAMES are not poetic fyttes.

S.-"Sung" doesn't rhyme with "done," nor does "yearning" rhyme with "swearing;"-but indeed there are not three real rhymes in the whole H. E. (Islington.)-You surely did not mean the paragraph for us! G. H. (London.)-Are you sure that's your own?

poem."

"A SHINFUL MAN" writes that he "inflicts the subjoined on our editorial ear." Singularly enough, we read with our eyes, not our ears. JONATHAN.-Blocks returned:-no, thank you.

SPOFFS writes, "I have nothing at hand but envelopes." He clearly has nothing to put in them.

H. G. R.-Unless your "verses" are meant for blank verses, we cannot see our way to such "rhymes" as "India" and "din there."

G. H. (Beacon-lane).-You have written most of your MS. in pencil on both sides of the sheet. The first legible sentence we met with was, "Bow Wow, said the fox "-which is neither natural nor funny.

Declined with thanks:-J. T.; C. W., Wolverhampton; A. B. C.; Q.; D. K. L., Commercial-road; Turk; Z. Z.; Ursa Major; T. B., NewcastleHolborn; "Silentia;" C. L.; A. K. O.; H. N., Kew; J. E. C.; on-Tyne; L. M. S.; Benedict; G. D. E. P.; S. W., Notting-hill; J. Y., Susannah E.; A. S., Liverpool; A. T. A., Newcastle-on-Tyne; J. W. B.; "Norfolk Road;" A. B. C., St. John's Wood; T. T., Vauxhall; W. C. B.. Centsept; H. B., Walsall; F. H. K.; "Abdul Medjid ;" C. P., Salisbury; J. R. D. M., Liverpool; H. J. A., Felixstowe.

UP THE RIVER TO NOAKES'S.

(BY OUR OWN WORKING MAN.)

I SAYS to JOE WALKER, which he's my missises brother, "Look here," I says, "JOE; I don't see, now that the Reform Bill's passed, as we can do any pertickler good at them meetin's. What with one thing an' another," I says, "I've reg'lar done myself out of the little bit of a change as I looks forward to of a Saturday afternoon. And there's POLLY an' the little uns, as all looks reg'lar peekin' through missin' a breath of fresh air, as we've not been even so far as Victoria Park, except twice on a Sunday, for all the summer. What's more, I says, "talking o' Sunday, there ain't much good to be got a listenin' to a many of them as puts theirselves forrard about Reform, and goes in for a good deal that Reform hasn't nothing to do with; like your High-Park-Corner-clasts, and such as goes in for doin' away with everythink, except speakin' from a platform about the equality o' labour and ridin' on horseback, for to uphold the dignity o' the workin' man. There's a lot, JOE," I says, "as ain't likely to do no good to sech as us, as goes in to abolish law and order; an' if you ain't a bigger fool than I take you for," I says, "you'll come along of us instead o' goin' to listen to them as won't belie theirselves when they leave you in the lurch, becos their motter always is, 'Every man for himself and GoD ain't nothing to do with it.' Why," I says, "there's one of 'em-the last thing out in speakin'- -as is a lady, which she screams that venomous against the marriage service, an' the marriage state, too, for what I know, that it's to be hoped her own 'usban' ain't there to hear her, poor man. Do you think, JOE," I says, "that I, or, for the matter o' that, any decent feller, 'ud take his POLLY for to hear such talk? You know you wouldn't take JEMIMA ANN," I says (which it's the young person he's keepin' company with). And so I says, "You bring her up to our place on Saturday at two thirty, when you've knocked off an' cleaned yourself," I says, "and let's have a wholesome arternoon." And, Joe, who I will say is mostly amiable to reason, though too much give to argufy in a general way, he come an' brings the young woman; and me and the missis locks up, and leaves the door-key with a neighbour, and off we starts to Lea Bridge.

It was quite like old times, a-walkin' over the field by the waterworks down to the place where they let out the boats; and when we went into the big room in the public-house there, and I ordered in

some biscuits and cheese and half-and-half, POLLY, I see the tears was in her eyes, for she says, "It's like when we was a-courtin', SAM, and you used to bring me down here for a row on the water, and then up to the Ferry Boat at Tottenham to tea, with that beautiful farm-house butter and the fresh cream," she says, "and the milk that fresh and sweet as never was, and the skittle ground and the haystack, an' pigs an' ducks, an' lots o' people a-fishin',-and where you could sit by the river-side under the trees and smoke your pipe quite pleasant; and the tea-gardens as is laid out quite beautiful, with a band, and water-lilies, and farmhouse and public-house, and all in one, jest like them pictures as we did used to have when we was children, as turned from winter to summer when you held 'em afore the fire."

"Well," I says, "POLLY, you're a-runnin' on, you are, as the halfan'-half," I says, "didn't used to be that heady;" but she only laughs, POLLY does, and she says, "I'm so happy, SAM, an' it's such a while since we had a out together."

"Well," I says, "my dear, we'll do just what you'ye been a-talkin' about; an' if JOHN GREEN round the corner's got a good steady boat disengaged, with a high rail for the little 'uns, and cushions for you an' JEMIMA, JOE and me can pull you up to Tottenham, or else we'll know the reason why; and I dessay you ain't forgot how to steer." I do own to a smell or two here and there on the river Lea, as will, perhaps, be put an end to next year when the Parliament meets; but, apart from that, we had a reg'lar half holiday-and beautiful it was round by Horse-shoe Point and under the bridge-as POLLY steered splendid-and along to the fust lock, where we got out and walked along the bank. The young 'uns was that delighted that we had all our work to do to keep 'em out of the water, where they see the chaps a-fishin', a-pullin' up a roach every two hours. But when we got to the Ferry Boat, as is the name of the old place, and MR. NOAKES he came out an' reckognised me an' POLLY, an' we all went into the farmyard, and the gardens, as they're laid out like a Dutch pleasure-ground in an old picter as I've got at home, we felt as the Saturday halfholiday was the realest blessin' to the workin' man, if he only knows what he's up to. JOE an' JEMIMA ANN, they lost us for a little while, as I was showing the little 'uns the big otter in a glass case in the parlour; but they comes back presently, and Joe must be that genteel as he'd ordered tea in the big long room upstairs-a reg'lar fine oldfashioned place, as lays in shadder even on the hottest day, and must be a pride to NOAKES I should say.