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OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

THE name of MR. TIMBS is always a guarantee that the book which bears it on its title-page will be found full of important facts, recorded in a pleasant and interesting manner. He has seldom given us a better book than Wonderful Inventions (MESSRS. ROUTLEDGE AND SONS). "Printing," "The Telegraph," "The Steam Engine," "The Microscope;" "The Cotton Manufacture" are among the principal themes, and on them MR. TIMBS discourses so pleasantly and withal so instructively, that we will defy any one to begin the book without becoming absorbed in it as deeply as if it were a novel by GEORGE ELIOT. It will be an invaluable book as a gift book for boys this Christmas, and is neatly turned out and plentifully illustrated. We have received Thoughts on Men and Things (MESSRS RIVINGTONS) volume of Essays purporting to be written by AMELIA GUSHINGTON. As in duty bound, we attempted to read them and form an opinion, but they were so little to our taste that we could not get on with them and therefore have no opinion of them at all. Nothing is easier to write than Youngirlese badly-to do it well, the spirit as well as the style of the feminine writer must be entered into.

We are at a loss to understand how a book so full of inaccuracies and silliness as the Young Nile Voyagers (MESSRS. ROUTLEDGE) ever came to be published. Its plot is weak and improbable, its characters are impossible, and its natural history and geography incorrect. The Geographical Society will be surprised to hear of a place called Gondoroko on the Nile, and MR. FRANK BUCKLAND somewhat startled to

learn that there is a large antelope which bears the name of onyx! The heroes of the story are two lads aged thirteen and eleven, who going to visit a couple of cousins at College, find they have gone to Egypt, and follow them, all parties meeting in the wilds of Africa after wonderful adventures, in which the two lads display the wisdom and courage of LIVINGSTONES, though one of them is so very "goody that he has scruples about the shooting of Arab robbers who are attacking the travellers, and when one of the party who has been taken prisoner

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THE LAY OF THE DRAB.

I'm only a drab, sir, don't you mind?
Though I think I came from a decent race;
'Tis pleasant to hear you speak so kind
To a poor little girl with a dirty face.
The missus is lady-born, I hear,

She is proud of her dresses and tiny feet;
She gives me five-pounds-ten a year,

And when she is pleasant-a piece of meat!

I'm not so strong as I used to be,

Though eighteen summers is all I've seen;
Five lodgers, and one poor girl, you see-
And missus, you know, is awful mean.
If I were a lady I'd like to faint,

And lie on a couch, or in easy chairs;
But I've to scrub at the filthy paint,

And drag the scuttles up ninety stairs. "Tis quickly over, the time called night, By six I've got on my-only gown, By seven I've three good fires alightThe ground-floor's early away to town; At eight the drawing-room ladies ring, I'd sooner wait on a score of men, And when they are eating I've time to sing, And a minute to rest at half-past ten. There's a lady here-she is forced to teachNext door to the ground-floor-back, who's wild, And when he's tipsy she hears him sereech,

And say what she never should hear, poor child!
I know what she was from the scrap of lace
Which peep from under her dress-'tis grey;
For one of the smiles from her maiden face
I'd run to her fifty times a day.

We haven't got winter the whole year round;
Sometimes in the kitchen I see the sun,
And it travels about on the dirty ground,
Till it rests on a spot where the beetles run.
I know that they think I steal and pry-
I'd sooner have hate than the words that stab,
For I feel I haven't got time to cry,

And know it's a lodging, and I'm the drab.

THE FENIAN SHADE OF GREEN.-Gan-grene.

by the slave-dealers contrives to escape, "goody" pronounces his wearing some Arab clothes in which his captors had dressed him to te a theft. A more worthless book we have not met with for a long time. The Story of Papa's Wise Dogs (MESSRS. ROUTLEDGE) is a really excellent little book. The author vouches for the scrupulous truth of the anecdotes it contains, and although some of them are proofs of the most extraordinary canine intelligence, no one who knows anything of dogs will doubt the writer's veracity. We trust it will be placed in the hands of many and many a child this Christmas, to foster a knowledge of, and affection for, one of the noblest and "wisest" of our four-footed companions. The younger folk are well catered for in Schnick Schnack (MESSRS ROUTLEDGE) with its telling and tasteful illustrations in colour, as well as in the Little Oxleys and the Coloured Scrap Book published by the same firm.

THE TABLES TURNED.
THE medium sat in his big arm-chair
Turning the tables around,

And a youth sat opposite to him there,
Uttering never a sound.

The table rapped, and the table screeched
In the lamp-light's ghostly glimmer,
And over the table the medium reached,
And he turned the lamp down dimmer.
The table quivered, the table groaned-
The medium he murmured "Hark!"

And the youth could hear, but not see, he owned,
Because that the room was so dark.

"Lo!" said the medium, and whispered soft, They're coming, the spirit band!

66

Canst thou not spy in the air aloft

Without any arm-a hand?"

"I see a hand, but no arm, up there

On the wall-I see it moves!

I do!" said the youth, with a troubled air.
Quoth the medium, "Ha! that proves!

"It proves, as, of course, you will understand,
That manifestations are truth!

You see the hand ?" "Yes, I see the hand,
And see that it moves," said the youth.

"It confirms my statements, as sound as rock,"
Quoth the medium, "beyond denial."

"The hand," said the youth, "is the hand of a clock, And it moves on the face of a dial!"

The medium sits in his big arm-chair,
Looking uncommon absurd,

And the youth sits opposite to him there,
But the medium he says not a word.

Quite a New Tune.

AMATEUR negro melodists will hear with satisfaction that the composer of one of the most popular fant-Asias for the pianoforte is about to publish a fant-Africa for the banjo and bones.

A NEGATIVE AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

A CASE OF CUTTING.

I was not born in London-quite the reverse; and my parents were neither poor nor honest. They thought proper, instead of consigning me to the tender mercies of a boarding-school, to have me educated somewhere else. Other boys might have thought this rather strange; as for me, I thought it nothing of the kind. I never fancied them particularly good people, it is true; but I was equally far from thinking them particularly bad. When I was not thirteen years of age everybody said that I was unlike most boys, because I had no decided likes or dislikes. It cannot be said that I was at all handsome, though my hair was of a pretty colour-nearly red but not quite. People never considered me intellectual, but this was in consequence of my not having made any effort to improve my mind. Athletic sports were as much out of my line as study; and even the theatres afforded me no amusement whatever. This apathy was all the more noticeable from the fact that I was not an invalid. I don't mean to assert that my health has at any time been very robust, because that would be far from the truth. In fact, it is a difficult thing to convey an accurate impression of my physical state, and therefore I will not attempt the task. My life has been anything but an eventful one though certainly not without incident. I was never married; it is not, however, likely that I shall always be a single man. On the subject of matrimony I am unwilling to venture an opinion as I never gave the question any consideration. I am not old-having recently arrived as that stage of existence which it is absolutely impossible to qualify. My relatives are not by any means numerous; I confess, however, that I have no reason to complain of their paucity.

There is nothing else of consequence to narrate.

A Fit Jecupation for the Peelers.

Answers to Correspondents.

[We can take no notice of communications with illegible signatures or monograms. Correspondents will do well to send their real names and addresses as guarantees. We cannot undertake to return unaccepted MSS. or Sketches, unless they are accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope; but we cannot enter into correspondence regarding them, nor do we hold ourselves responsible for loss.] The author of "A Political Hymn" herrs in parodying sacred verse. W. A. B.-Both.

TIMBERTOES.-We would rather give two for your heels than ore for your nob.

M. P. (Perth.)-We have frequently stated that we do not want acrostics. THREE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM are "at sea in a bowl "-over they in

tended.

L. B. E. (Threadneedle-street.)-We believe the journal you mention was right. L. V. (Camden-road.)-Has been sent. Nothing else, thank you. Magazine:"Look out, Boys! Drawing on the 29th December, 1867. To S. C. D. (Barnstaple) sends us this advertisement from the Boy's Own be raffled for, three meerschaum pipes," etc., etc. S. C. D. asks:-"As this periodical professes to be devoted to the moral and intellectual advancement of boys," whether "smoking and gambling are among the necessary accomplishments ?" Well! we never recommended it.

Declined with thanks:-H. H., Islington; J. W. T., Glasgow; G. H., Stratford; E. S.; Romi, Dundee: J. H. C., Moorgate-street; James Fitz-J.; T. P. Y., Mark-lane; Werdua; J. H., Rochdale; C. P. M., Piccadilly; Comanche; E. R., New Cross; R. E., Islington; Common Sense; Dicky Sam; G., Doughty-street; Croix; A. J. S.; S. S. N.; H. G.; C. R., Barnsley; Absalom; K.; Charles; S. W., Parliamentstreet; H. N., Kew; S. L., St. John's Wood; A. T. D., New Wandsworth; M. G. C., Wootton-under-Edge; J. V.; The Ghost of Iphigenia; J. A. D., Deptford; B., Scarsdale Villas; O. R. T., Huddersfield; J. G. II., Potato; J. H. P., Cork: A. H., Temple; A. E. W., Weymouth; A Joker; S.; Lord D.; J. T. F., Half-moon-street; W. H. C., Barnsbury; Tom S.; Non-crackedus; Optime; L. L., Milner-square; and the Author of " Doing it Politely, Oh!" etc.

"ONLY FIT FOR A CAT'S CONCERT.-The tom-tom.

WHAT'S THE MATTERHORN?
BY OUR GREEDY CONTRIBUTOR.

AH! you think you have it pat enough- a mountain, you say, with plenty of glaciers, and now and then an unwilling plumber-the jest is vile; but you are wrong. Rushing wildly over the town during the past week have been London Parcels Delivery carts and railway vans, discharging their freight of turkeys, game, barrelled oysters (muzzle loaders), and what not, and not so much as the smell of a hamper has reached my door! That's what's the matter-HORNE! and I may also add-CHAPLIN.

History.

Has the antiquarian noted a strange fact recorded in the Journal of the Society of Arts for last month? Here it is for his instruction-and shall we say, amusement ?—

"Montrose, James, Duke of (d. 1742), celebrated for his fidelity to Charles I. and II.; lived at (No. -?) Hanover-square."

We suppose this means James Grahame, Marquis of Montrose, who was born in 1622, and died in 1650. He was the only Montrose we know who was celebrated for his fidelity to the STUARTS; considering which, wasn't it odd he should choose Hanover-square for his abode ?

Amusement for the Million.

THE cheapest entertainment out Is what? To entertain a doubt!

Good Goers.

Ir is stated that three hundred thousand watches are sold annually in the United States. American watches must "go" very fast, or they would not want to be replaced in such vast quantities every year. The "winding-up" Act must be in force in almost every part of the country.

NOTICE.-Wednesday, the 25th, being Christmas Day, the next number of FUN will be published on Monday the 23rd.

Town Talk.

BY THE SAUNTERER IN SOCIETY.

LERKENWELL has been the scene of a diabolical outrage, which it is to be hoped will scatter the last shadow of the sentimental sympathy that has been expressed for the Fenians. The blowing-up of the wall at Clerkenwell was not the wild folly of a few. There are facts connected with it that demonstrate clearly that it was an organized scheme of the Fenian executive, and being so, it proves Fenianism to be a relentless and bloodthirsty-idiocy. It is relentless and bloodthirsty because it never took into consideration the innocent lives it imperilled and destroyed; because its agents did not even warn off the poor little children playing within a few feet of the powder. It is idiocy because had the prisoners it desired to liberate been in the yard, as was calculated, at the time of the explosion, they, with others, must inevitably have perished! I do most sincerely trust that the working men are as ashamed of having advocated the cause of Fenianism as they must by this time be of their late leader-and if they are not ashamed of him they have less grace than that respectable institution "The Judge and Jury," which did discharge its distinguished "barrister." "Misfortune makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows," says the proverb, but the cause of the working-man must be worse than a misfortune if it consigns him to the leadership of the counsel for the Coal Hole!

DID I go to the Cattle Show? Well, no, I didn't. I am not learned in fat cattle and the result is that, to me, all the beasts look so very much alike, that I am reminded of the well-known resemblance between CASAR and POMPEY-especially POMPEY. I see by the way that the Illustrated Weekly News is very much of my way of thinking, for in last week's number it made the same block-or rather, I suppose, two electros from the same block-do duty for the prize steer of the DUKE OF SUTHERLAND and the prize heifer of MR. R. STRETTON. I dare say the vigorous journal in question will (as it did when I chaffed it about the decapitation of the LORD MAYOR) retort by calling me "a pot-house lounger," but I can assure it, though it may scarcely credit the fact, that I saw its LORD MAYOR number and its Cattle Show number in a respectable newsvendor's, and not, as it seems by its language to have hastily concluded, in the places where it chiefly circulates.

I MUST confess I am disappointed with No Thoroughfare. Mr. Dickens's vestibule does not fit Mr. Wilkie Collins's mansion of mystery, with which it is incorporated. Mr. Dickens generally presents us with a new character, not to say caricature, every Christmas, and his gift this year is "Joey Ladle"; but we only get a brief sketch of him, bringing out, as sketches do, salient points that need toning down to the truth of nature; and when Joey Ladle wanders into Mr. Collins's elaborate plot he becomes incongruous, and yet Joey Ladle is the only character in whom one feels any great interest from beginning to end. One of the critics-and they have all praised the number, of course-went into an art figure about it, saying that in previous years Mr. Dickens had supplied the frame and inferior hands the picture, and that the present scheme was preferable, therefore. But if it was bad to have, as he asserted, the frame more valuable than the painting, is it much better to have a composition so many square inches of which have been painted by Teniers, and so many square inches by Fuseli? Good Cheer, the Christmas number of Good Words, contains many charming things-old and new. It is strange that the managers of such a publication should have forgotten the precept about putting new cloth and old together. The number contains quite enough new and really exquisite illustrations to make it more than worth its price, but a selection of cuttings from old blocks has been thrown in, and instead of enhancing the value goes near to destroying it. People seeing one old block will be prone to consider all are old. Messrs. STRAHAN have done themselves harm by what they intended for generosity, for their publications are always so conducted as to place them above any suspicion of the meanness which prompts other publishers to hack their blocks over and over again, until the public are sick of them. I hope Messrs. STRAHAN will be

warned in time, and leave the practice of "hash-up " blocks to houses in the Row that are notorious for it.

I LEARN with great regret that one of the chief sufferers by the burning of Her Majesty's is Mr. S. MAY, the well-known costumier. He had the dresses of thirty-four operas on the premises, uninsured, and by their destruction has lost thousands. He has always been so ready to aid in good works himself, whether in giving dresses for benefit performances or at the dramatic fote, that I feel sure his loss has only to be known to awaken general sympathy-if nothing else!

THE Publishers' Circular and its younger rival, the Bookseller, put forth this year their customary solid annual members, which are filled with good specimens of the illustrated books of the season. As usual, these trade organs take a very rapturous view of our Christmas books, and exhaust themselves in eulogies over their literary contents, pictures, printing, and binding. The Bookseller, however, has a jarring note in his hymn of praise; he can find no extraordinary ability in one publication which, by a coincidence (all the more remarkable from its having occurred to him before), happens to be conducted by the same gentleman who edits the Publishers' Circular.

MR. ROBERTS, the indefatigable acting manager and secretary of the Princess's Theatre, takes his benefit to-night and to-morrow night, and if he has what he deserves, will get a bumper.