MRS. BROWN AND THE PIGWASH.

It was the week afore we was goin' to move as MRS. PADWICK'S daughter came over to see me, a-luggin' of that infant of 'ern thro' the brilin' sun as is enough to make both mother and child ill I should say, and glad tho' I was to see 'er were sorry to. find things 'adn't gone well with 'er since marrying that greengrocer, as I never did fancy the match myself through 'im being a widower, and the prices as he'd charge for things was downright hidjous, leastways to them as dealt with 'im for credit, as was only a bit of a place down the Mews, with keeping a wan for goods removed, as 'is were. Parties as wants credit does wrong, in my opinion, in dealin' at them third-rate places, as always charges enormous and never supplies you with anythink but what's inferior. No, if you are goin' to get into debt, as you are quite sure you can pay them, run tick at a first-rate shop.

Well, as I were a-sayin', 'LIZA, as is MRS. PADWICK's daughter's name, she told me as they'd been sold up thro' MARTINS-as is 'er 'usband-puttin' 'is name to a bill.

I says, you ?"

I

"You don't mean to say as they've took the bed from under She says, "They 'ave."

says, "Wherever are you livin' ?" "Oh," she says, "I've got a house to take care on close to Portman-square thro' the family bein' away."

She says, "We was stoppin' for a bit with mother, but she's got 'er 'ouse full now; besides, MARTINS made 'isself werry disagreeable many ways, partick'ler with 'is pipe, as led to words; so, 'earin' about this 'ouse to take care on, I went arter it and got it, as will give us a 'ouse till November, and by that time MARTINS will 'ave got somethin' to do."

"Well," I says, "I'opes he may," but 'ad my own opinion about 'im, as is too fond of the public 'ouse for me, and talks about bettin' and sporting' a deal too free for only a greengrocer; as is werry well for them as 'ave mony to throw away.

Poor 'LIZA were werry thankful for some old things as I looked up for 'er, for really I see as she 'adn't'ardly a second thing to stand upright in, as did used to be dressed up to the nines, as the sayin' is; and when she went away I see 'er into a 'bus, and she promised to let me know when she got 'ome, as 'ad 'er 'ands full, what with the babby and the bundle.

see 'er.

I didn't 'ear of 'er for more than three weeks, and then got a note to say as 'er child were a-dyin', and off I sets at once for to go and It was a werry nice 'ouse as she were a-takin' care off, with the 'ousekeeper's rooms and the kitchen, and a bedroom the top of the 'ouse

to live in.

She was that pleased to see me, and said as the child 'ad 'ad two attacks of croup as 'ad werry nigh been its last.

I says, "I've seen many a child look wuss than that as 'ave lived thro' it and grow'd to manhood." I says, "It's the food as is killin' that child." "Oh," she says, "I gives it baked flour, like the Royal family."

I says, "Bother the Royal family; what suits their stomicks mayn't suit your child. Take my advice, and stick to tops and bottoms." "Oh," she says, "she can't keep 'em on her stomach."

I says, I dare say not, jest done like poultice and forced down her throat." I says, "I'll show you 'ow to do 'em," and so I did, and the child seemed to thrive from that wery 'our.

I was able to stop with 'er a bit, as we was jest settled, and BROWN was gone to Brummagem for a few days, so I slep' at MRS. PADWICK'S, and was with poor 'LIZA a good deal, and made 'er and 'er mother friends, as 'ad got quarrelin' about MARTINS. As I says to MRS. PADWICK, "Ain't it right as she should stick to 'er 'usband ?" so they was all right, but MRS. PADWICK Would not speak to MARTINS all the same thro' not forgivin' of 'im a-speakin' of 'er as a toothless old mummy, as is not respectful I must allow.

'LIZA and me did used to sit werry often at the parlor winder of a evenin', as the air seemed to do that child good, but there come a most unpleasant smell as were quite sickenin'. 'LIZA says, "I can't make out what it is."

I says, "Can't you? then I can." I says, "It's a pig-tub as is kep' somewhere abouts." "Oh," she says, "nobody wouldn't keep such a beastly thing as a pig-tub in respectable 'ouses like these." I says, "You never can tell what games some cooks is up to." It so 'appened as the werry next mornin' I come round to 'LIZA about eight, thro' being a lovely mornin', and 'er mother wantin' to send 'er some new-laid eggs as 'ad come from the country in a basket, when what should I see a-standin' at the werry next door but a donkeycart with a old man and a dog, as 'ad come to fetch away the pig-wash as were kep' down in a cellar in that front airy, as stunk the werry place out. It quite turned my stomick and made me turn agin', and I says to 'LIZA, as come to the door, "It's enough to breed a fever," and glad I was to get indoors.

I stopped for a bit with 'LIZA as I were a-going 'ome that arternoon, and I says to 'er, "Now mind that child of yourn, if croups set in,

don't on no account 'ave no bleedin'; stick to ippicacuanner, as will do wonders," and off I goes; and as I was a-goin' down the steps a stout party were a-standin' at the airy gate next door, as looked like the cook. She says to a female as were down in the airy, "She looks like one as don't fancy a pig-tub," and bust out a-larfin'.

I says to 'er, "If you are illudin' to me, I do not like pig-tubs, and you must be a dirty drab to keep one, and more fools them as lets you arbour your filth under their noses."

She says, "You're a good judge of filth, I should say." "Yes," I says, "you're right; I can spot it in a instant. I know'd you the moment I set eyes on you." She says, "I'll use the mop to you if you don't go on." I says, "Dare to, that's all." She opens the airy gate, and gives a shove at me with the mop, a-makin' believe, but I walks up to the front door and I give a peal at the bell as woke 'em up. Out come a man servant in one of them striped jackets as were waitin' at breakfast, and says, "What does this mean?

A old gent, with a face as red as a turkey cock and a white 'ead, come to the parlor winder and says, "What the devil do you mean by ringin' the bell like that?"

I says, "Your cook, as is in liquor I should say, is insultin' parties with 'er mop." He says, "I'll send for a perliceman."

I says, "I would if I was you, and I'd send 'er off pig-tub and all, as is a reg'lar nuisance to the neighbourhood."

I do think as that old feller was werry nigh droppin' with rage; he couldn't get 'is words out, as were, p'raps, owin' to 'is 'avin' 'is mouth full of 'is breakfast. He says, "WILKINS, go for the police." I was a-turnin' to go away, and he 'ollers out, "Detain that fieldmale," to a man as were passin' by, as only says to 'im, "Detain 'er yourself."

The policeman come back with the servant, and as soon as he 'eard my story, he says to the old gentleman, as 'ad come to the door, "Do you mean to give this party in charge ?" The old gentleman he says nothink, so 1 only says, "Let 'im dare and he'll rue it ;" and so I says, "Good day," and off I walks.

But sich a lark it turned out about that pig-tub, for if that cook wasn't a reg'lar thief, and the old man in the donkey-cart a receiver, and the things as she cleared out of that 'ouse was wonderful, for it come to a trial, and that cook got two years and the donkey-cart eighteen months, and 'LIZA told me it was all found out through me a-callin' that old feller's attention to that pig-tub, as was a reg'lar deep-laid plant as that cook thought would be kep' in ambush down in that airy and no suspicions, but 'ow any one could set in the front parler and bear it I can't think, as the dustholes is bad enough as you can't keep the lobster shells out on, nor yet other refuse, and the consequences is bluebottles as big as donkeys and a stiflin' smell; but where to put 'em is the puzzle, for them dustmen is as proud as dukes, and won't look at your dusthole under twopence, as is their duty to remove reg'lar; but law, they do as they please all over the world— least wise I can speak for South Lambeth and the West End.

THE SEA-SIDE.

How sweet-how ineffably jolly, ah me,
To be taking a holiday down by the sea!"
To chase-and to fly when in turn it pursues→→→
The wave that is lavish in filling your shoes;
To scribble your name in a bold running hand,
Or write, "My Amelia," at large on the sand.
To chivy the crab from his bladder-weed haunts,
And mock at his gait with unscrupulous taunts
To hunt up the sand-worm's select Agapemone→→
Or feed with cigar-lights a hungry anemone.
The limpet to catch when he's not on his guard,
And send with a tap flying full half a yard.
The mild periwinkle to plague for his sins,
And murder his peace with suggestions of pins.
To try-ah, how vainly-to capture the shrimp,
Or the dim, ghostlike prawn, who's as smart as an imp-
Or to chase on the sands little jumpers so hoppy-
Oh, isn't it better than grinding at copy!

Changes.

A GREAT promotion has fallen on the turnip. A little while since its destiny was to furnish lantern-heads for ghosts. Now it is to supplant the pineapple. Some ingenious Parisian confectioner has devised a syrup which changes the ordinary turnip into a pine! What next? We shall have apples turned into apricots and potatoes into plums. This comes of the democratic tendencies of the age! If we can mak e baronets out of WENTWORTH DILKES and C.B.'s out of COLES, why not pineapples out of turnips?

THE LOBLOLLY LETTERS.

A DOMESTIC DRAMA SET FORTH IN A FEW FAMILIAR EPISTLES.

[From George Loblolly, Esq., Broadstairs, to Charles Smith, Esq., London.] DEAR CHARLIE,-Here we are at the seaside for our annual holiday. It's very jolly here, and I'm enjoying it very much--the place is quiet, though it lies between Margate and Ramsgate. It is free from the vulgarity of the former and the gentility of the latter.

All the family are here, including my cousin JULIA, a very nice girl, only she has some stuck-up notions, in which she takes after her father who threw up business to take to Art-only Art didn't take to him. However, she is in a fair way to get a lesson which I think will cure her, and if so look out for wedding-cake and white favours.

I took my mother out for a sail the other day-lovely weather, and such a sea and sky! But it didn't make her in the least sentimentalshe only made one remark all the time, and that was when she saw a jelly fish swim by, and she said, "That reminded her that she hadn't been to the confectioner's to order a tart for dinner." WILLIAM went out with us, but was awfully ill. As he says, he's a capital sailor-as long as he stops on shore. He is dreadfully given to natural philosophy and science since he joined the University. The other day he went into a long dissertation as to the reason why people wore yellow shoes at the seaside. He wanted to attribute it to that" wonderful provision of nature which enables the chameleon to assume the colour of the tree on which it feeds." But his theory was snuffed out by a local

dealer in shoes, who told him it was because the sea spoilt black leather.

We have pleasant lodgings here not far from the coastguard station, on the top of a cliff. It is called the Battery because there are no guns there. We have been 'out for several drives in the neighbourhood, But the hot weather makes the flies very troublesome one of them wanted six shillings to take us over to Margate, a matter of two

miles or so.

One of the peculiarities of the place is that every other person you meet is called HILLER. I believe it was from this fact that DICKENS derived the immortal name of Weller. The chief hotel in the place is the Tartar Frigate Inn-that is, if one may call the place where pier where the boatmen are, and I went to it as I go to the public one gets the best beer in the place the chief hotel. It is close to the nearest a cab-stand, because "where good judges abound, good beer will be found."

The governor being absent of necessity from the warehouse feels a little out of place-like a fish out of water, or I should say, perhaps, a whale out of oil. I believe he only bathes because it reminds him of so many dips-especially as people write to the newspapers and say the bathing here is (s) candle-ous. He writes daily almost to PIPPINGS, who responds with equal regularity, and he seems rather cut up at my the warehouse, though of course I stick to it and do my duty; but I 'levity" as he calls it. The fact is, I don't feel much in love with enjoy a holiday-it's what I call running counter to nature. When don't see why a fellow should think so much of the shop that he can't i'm married and settled I'll attend to the pickle and olive branches.

66

Can't you run down from a Saturday till Monday. We can give you a bed and we might have a sail over to the Goodwin Sands-that is if you can stand the sea. If not you'd better not go, for as WILLIAM said the other day, "It's no use flying in the face of your stomach," which was rather a new feature to me. Good-bye.-Yours,

GEORGE.

[From Mrs. Loblolly, Broadstairs, to Mrs. John Loblolly, Little Britain.]

DEAR JANE,-I've just snatched a minute while the little ones are down bathing to drop you a line. We are all down here enjoying ourselves, except me, for what with men ling and anxiety I'm as hard worked as a negro slave. And meat is dear and everybody's appetite is awful. They all eat three times as much as they do at home. We

had a dreadful accident coming down: the Margate porters bumped the boxes about so that, though I packed them with my own hands, a flask of oil (you know he will always carry condiments from his own shop,) got broke, and has spoilt two breadths of my grey silk, to say nothing of going over all my nightdresses so that I felt as if I was sleeping in salad for the first few nights. From the same cause I got an awful turn from JANE the nurse, who came up to me on landing looking pale and strange, and with a great stain like blood all down her apron. I thought she had gone mad and murdered the baby, but it was only sea-sickness and some red currant jelly cr something of the sort that got broke in somebody's luggage, while she was getting at the perambulator.

I very much fear that JULIA has formed an attachment which may interfere with my plan for her union with our GEORGE. We have somehow got acquainted with a MR. ACIER, a very dashing sort of fellow who has evidently made a great impression. I have my doubts about him. The other day he nodded to some one who he said was DICKENS-but whether this was for joke or show-off I can't say; however, I met the same person afterwards when I was with MR. L., who shook hands with him, and he's a leather merchant somewhere in the Borough.

MARIA.

Now I must conclude with, dear JANE, your affectionate sister, P.S.-Will you just call in at the house now and then, and see if all is going right. If you go in at irregular times they won't know when to expect you. and you can catch them if there is anything going on. Please call at Topper's the chemist's, and ask him to send me some powders for the children, they're all very well now, but I don't like them to go too long without a motherly dose. If the Jones's ask where we are, say at Boulogne-it's only just on the other side, so it is not altogether an untruth, and they're so sarcastic.

(To be continued.)

AN ODE.

(Supposed to be one of those written for the Eisteddfod and picked up near the office of "Tinsley's Magazine.")

AP-JONES he was the king

Of Welshmen and of Druids,

He could dance and sing

And polish off his fluids.

No murmur would he utter

As long as beer was poured him

He'd tack like any cutter

When he'd his "crw" aboard him,

AP-JONES he had a wife,

The chief of shrewish-tongue ones, And, also, 'pon my life,

He'd half-a-dozen young ones. He lived on drink and victuals, And, summer evenings sunny, He'd oft-times play at skittles, And win or lose his money.

AP-JONES he had a suit

Of broadcloth clothes for Sunday, And played the German flute

In church upon that one day, On weekdays he wore gaiters,

And second-bestest garments,
And he gave his mind to 'taturs,
Instead of psalms and sarments.
AP-JONES lived sixty year,

And then a cold he died of;
They dug a grave down here
To put AP-JONES inside of.
His life a glorious thing it
Was counted by the quality,
So they asked a bard to sing it,
And to praise the Principality.

At the Eisteddfod.

No one will be disposed to envy the task of the gentleman who was solicited to adjudicate the prize of £20 and a silver medal, offered "for a new poem or song by a Welshman." Ninety-three compositions sent in, and not one of sufficient merit to secure the prize! A plain

a

OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

READERS Who like a novel which has a backbone in it will thank us

for introducing to their notice The Waterdale Neighbours, just published by MESSRS. TINSLEY AND COMPANY. It is the work of the "Author of Paul Massie;" it is also, judging from internal evidence, the work of a clever, earnest, and thoughtful journalist. Paul Massie was not, by any means, a satisfactory book; but it gave promise of a better, and in The Waterdale Neighbours the promise has been kept.. We decline to spoil the sale by telling the story, of which, however, it may with perfect truth be said that the interest is, as it should be, cumulative throughout, and keenest in the last thirty pages. None of the types of character introduced may be absolutely new, but some of them are handled with a refreshing courage and vigour. In fact, if we had to characterise the novel by a single adjective, we should say that it was emphatically a brave book. The author is a Radical, and he has "the courage of his convictions." He does not coquet with Democratic Toryism, nor philander with the thing that calls itself Philosophical Liberalism. Hence, when he writes of the working man, he shows you a live human being in honest Tom Berry, the ci-devant Chartist. He does not fear to point out Tom's weaknesses; but he does not insult Tom and the class of Tom either by offensive patronage, or by hinting that the new recruits of the electoral body need to be kept in order by elaborate "checks" and "balances." There is love-making in the book, very human and true, some of it-there is scene-painting in the book, delicate, and tender and graceful; but it is, above all, for the bravery with which it encounters moral, religious, social, political difficulties that The Waterdale Neighbours must specially be praised.

There is no pleasanter "common object of the sea-shore" than a young lady reading a new novel; but the sea-side ought to have a literature of its own. A welcome contribution to the library of the sands and the rocks is furnished by MR. W. B. LORD in his " Crab, Shrimp, and Lobster Lore," just issued by the MESSRS. ROUTLEDGE. Those who do not care for its science, may be interested in its valuable hints on practical subjects; and MR. LORD has had the good sense to make his book palatable to the general reader, by introducing a number of anecdotes, some of them new, most of them amusing, concerning the manners and customs of the crustacea.

G. T. N. (Fenchurch-street.)-Thanks.

ROAST LAMB.-We cannot see the point of your anecdote.

I. V. We cannot decide without further consideration.

A CONSTANT READER.—If you agree with the article you forward you must be very ignorant of the truth.

F. E. B. (Notting-hill.)—Already worked out in an early number of our old series.

R. A. (H.M.S., Portsmouth.)-Under consideration. But how comes it that your postmark is Birmingham?

G. D. E. P.-The sketch-or rather suggestion-was worthless until improved upon.

SAGACITY.-Your St. Leger prophecy is worth exactly as much as all the other prophecies-except one.

COMMON SENSE.-(Who, by the way, is a colonel in the army) agrees with us as to the iniquity of allowing soldiers to do harvesters' work. If our soldiers have spare time, let them have a trade, to which they can resort when their service is expired, and a grateful country has done as little for them as possible.

PIERROT.-Apply at the G. P. O., St. Martin's-le-Grand.

Declined with thanks:-R. W., Belfast; A. E. B.; Gee Cee; H. W. M. Hayes; J. B., Manchester; E. F., Heavitree; R. F. E., Ramsgate; Freetrade; R. T. M., Soho; Faned; Vex; X. G.; F. G., Harper-street; "Ye Corporal;" A. W., St. George's-road; B. B., Kentish Town-road; K. Y.; F. P.; R. B., Grundy-street;, A. J. S., Northampton; A person who assumes the signature Phiz." E. H., Cadiz; H. S., Great Percy-street; 'W.;" C. A. C.; Central Fire; Do you like 'em; H. C., Erith; J. F.;

CLOSE, or a BARTHOLOMEW. Why not throw the prize open to Welshmen of all nations? We trust the Bards will give our hint a consideration before the next "Session of Parliament."

Ware; G. S., Islington; A. J., Paisley; B. C., Paddington; A. F. C., Edinburgh; J. D., Ireland.

The Turk adored the maid of Hooe

(Although his harem would have shocked her); But BROWN adored that maiden, tooHe was a most seductive doctor. They'd follow her where'er she'd goA course of action most improperShe neither knew by sight, and so

For neither of them cared a copper.

BROWN did not know that Turkish male-
He might have been his sainted mother-

The people in this simple tale

Are total strangers to each other.

One day that Turk he sickened sore

Which threw him straight into a sharp petHe threw himself upon the floor

And rolled about upon his-carpet:

Bab

The Turk he shyly bit his thumb,

And coyly blushed like one half-witted,
The pain is in my little tum"-

He, whispering, at length admitted.
"Then take you this, and take you that--
Your blood flows sluggish in its channel-
You must get rid of all this fat,

And wear my medicated flannel.

"You'll send for me, when you're in need

My name is BROWN-your life I've saved it!" "My rival!" shrieked the invalid,

And drew a mighty sword and waved it:

"This to thy weazand, Christian pest!"
Aloud the Turk in frenzy yelled it,
And drove right through the Doctor's chest
The sabre and the hand that held it.

It made him moan-it made him groan
And almost wore him to a mummy:

Why should I hesitate to own

That pain was in his little tummy?

At length a Doctor came and rung-
(AS ALLAH ACHMET had desired)-
Who felt his pulse, took up his tongue,
And hummed and hawed, and then inquired:

"Where is the pain that long has preyed
Upon you in so sad a way, sir ?"
The Turk he giggled, blushed, and said,
"I don't exactly like to say, sir!

"Come, nonsense!" said good DOCTOR BROWN,
"So this is Turkish coyness, is it?
You must contrive to fight it down-
Come, come, sir, please to be explicit."

Brat

The blow was a decisive one

And DOCTOR BROWN grew deadly pasty"Now see the mischief that you've done,You Turks are so extremely hasty. "There are two DOCTOR BROWNS in Hooe, He's short and stout-I'm tall and wizen; You've been and run the wrong one through. That's how the error has arisen."

The accident was thus explaired,
Apologies were only heard now-
"At my mistake I'm really pained,
I am, indeed, upon my word now!
"With me, sir, you shall be interred,
A Mausoleum grand awaits me".
"Oh, pray don't say another word,

I'm sure that more than compensates me!

"But p'raps, kind Turk, you're full inside ?" "There's room," said he, "for any number." And so they laid them down and died.

In proud Stamboul they sleep their slumber.

VOL. VL