PATTY.-My uncle, Peter Grice, is Postmaster of St. Arven. Joe, the village idiot, is our servant. Lewcy Tregarvon, my foster-sister, is the daughter of Sir Robert Tregarvon, a long-haired, horsemanship-looking bart. Captain Dudley Lazonby was formerly engaged to Miss Lewcy, but is now thrown over for George Penrhyn. Now you know all about us. [Blushes, and exit. Enter CAPTAIN LAZONBY. CAPT. L.-I am the son of Elizabeth Lazonby, whose sauce is the only recognised relish for chops, steaks, fish, &c. But let that pass. Enter PETER GRICE.

PETER G.-Captain Lazonby! CAPT. L.-Grice, you have a letter in your post-bag that announces to Lewcy Tregarvon that she is worth millions. Suppress it.

PETER G.-I will-I will! (Suppresses it, R.) But why? CAPT. L.-I love her, and would marry her-she is poor now, and may listen-if she knows she is rich, she may not. Besides, you want to buy her father's castle. This you cannot do if she is worth millions. PETER G.-True! True! [Suppresses it more than ever. Exeunt.

Enter JOE.

JOE (down in his stomach).-I am-a the-a village idiot-a. My-a terrowsers are vandyked-a, accordingly-a I was-a washed on-a shore-a by the sea tied-a to a plank-a. I have received-a no eder-ucation-a, but I talk-a in rather more-a stilted-a and bombastic-a langerwage than-a the late Claude-a Melnotte-a-a. They call me idiot-a, because I wear-a long hair parted-a down the centre-a, and carerfullee crepe. Ha ha! I am-a not such an idiot-a as to allow my hair-a to be-a cropped by the barber-a of a-a Cornish-a village. I wait-a till I can see Terrufitt-a. [Dance, and off A hunting-party is seen in the distance (going at full gallop down a steep precipice with a sheer fall of many thousand feet), and accompanied (as usual) by full band playing “A hunting we will go." Then enter the hunting-party, consisting of MISS LEWCY TREGARVON and six young hair-cutters, with orders to stand behind a table, and not to show their legs on any account.

LEWCY L.-It is only in Cornwall that we gallop home, ventre a terre, after a long day's hunt. But then it is only in Cornwall that a long day's hunt ends at about nine in the morning.

CAPT. L.-Lewcy!

Enter CAPTAIN LAZONBY.

SCENE 3.-The Ravine. Enter PETER GRICE. PETER G.-I have managed to descend to the bottom of the abyss of unfathomable depth, and I find that the will is in another abyss of more unfathomable depth still. I will, however, descend. Enter JOE and PATTY LAVROCK, who have taken an evening stroll, with all the village, down here.

JOE.-A-no-a you don't-a. [Pushes him on one side, and descends. PATTY L.-Joe! Are you killed? There is no answer! Ha! this rope! [Lets a rope down, and drags him up to the less unfathomole of the two abysses.

JOE.-I-a have GOT A THE WILL!

for a castle; and my bed is built in a small recess, which is stuffy, but LEWCY T.-My room is only about four feet square, which is small what are such considerations to a pure girl whose only indiscretions. forest at midnight without her bonnet? Absolutely nothing' a habit of meeting acknowledged villains in the solitude of a gloomy CAPT. L. (shewing himself).-Lewcy!

LEWCY T.-Captain Lazonby in my bedroom at night? Now this I really cannot allow. You are going too far-you are indeed. (removes his hat), I have sworn it! CAPT. L.-I have come to carry you off. By my mother's Sauce

LEWOY T.-That fearful oath unmans me-I should say, unwomans me quite. CAPT. L.-Come! [Struggle. Enter JOE and PATTY LAVROCK, who are strolling through the private apartments of the Castle this evening for a change.

JOE.-A-Ha!

[Seizes LAZONBY, and chucks him out of window down a precipice. LEWCY T.-Ha! My gun! I always sleep with it loaded at my

LEWCY T. (proudly).-I AM here anon! (LAZONBY cowers.) What would you with me?

CAPT. L.—I would make you mine! It was for that I asked you to

meet me.

LEWCY T.-I loathe and scorn you, as you well know. I really believe that if I had known that that was all you had to tell me I should almost have hesitated before escaping from my father's castle, unseen, at midnight, to keep an appointment in the depths of a forest with a fellow whom I know to be an unconscientious scoundrel. CAPT. L.-Nay; but you shall be mine!

[Struggle. JOB, I think, appears from behind the well, and rescues LEWCY. Tableau. LEWCY T.-My preserver, thanks! CAPT. L.-Humph; another time!

[Quivers himself off.

SCENE 2-Post House, as in First Act.
Enter PETER GRICE, meeting a drunken sailor.

SAILOR.-Yeo ho! Belay! [GRICE belays. PETER G.-Who are you? SAILOR-The late Admiral Tregarvon's cox'en. Here is his will, which I am going to give to Miss Lewcy, and which makes her worth millions.

PETER G (aside).-Ha! (Aloud.)-Go up that precipice-it is the nearest way. [Exit Drunken Sailor, staggering up precipice.

[Seizes gun and fires it at poor Jox, of all people in the world. He falls wounded.

Enter the LONG-HAIRED BART., the SPORTING HAIR-CUTTERS, PETER GRICE, ALL THE VILLAGERS, and a POLICEMAN, who remains shyly at the back.

JOE (to LEWCY T.).-Here-a is the will that makes you worth-a millions!

ALL.-And you are

JOE.-A-ha-I am-a (all breathless) a-Nobody's-a Che-ild!

CURTAIN.

OURSELVES.-Pretty good piece for the class of audience. Situations would be more exciting if they were not so old. Capitally placed upon the stage. Excellently acted by MR. VOLLAIRE, and MISS PAUNCEFORT; fairly by MR. EDGAR, and very conventionally by MR. CRESWICK. MR. HOLSTON very good as the drunken sailor. The rest

nowhere.

The "Fort-hitter in re" and the "Zouave-iter in
Modo."

WE note with glee that MARSHAL FOREY will not allow himself to be falsely made a round in the ladder of JACOB's success, and trust the impostor may catch the punishment he so richly deserves. Let him in future stick to his trumpet; he has shown us that he is fully capable of blowing that instrument.

Oysters are at a Pretty Tune. In a list of new works we notice the following: :"Songsters, Our Native. By ANNA PRATT." is quite a novelty. Are its notes produced by the aid of bivalves? Whistling oysters are not unknown to the naturalist, but a singing one We confess we should like to hear it sing, ANN PRATT-le too. A present of a barrel of oysters will, we presume, in future be considered as equivalent to "tipping a few staves." Friends will please take note of this intimation.

FROM OUR STALL.

In his new melodrama, Nobody's Child, MR. WATTS PHILLIPS has out-Surried the Surrey. Such an olla podrida of thoroughfaced rascality and spotless innocence-fraudulent postmasters, intellectual idiots, real stage-coaches, unreal precipices, practicable huntsmen, alarm-bells, and hair-dressing without the assistance of machinery has rarely been dished up, we imagine, even on the south side of the bridges. MR. PHILLIPS, however, cannot be blamed for giving his hungry customers the food they evidently relish. The piece was received enthusiastically on its first night, and the author called before the curtain to be looked at; so that Nobody's Child seems in a fair way to draw money. For our own private palate, it is a little too highly spiced. We should have been contented with less wickedness; nearly everybody in the play repels us. The hero, who is little better than a gibbering idiot in the early scenes, is rendered partially reasonable by having some of his hair cut off. It is a pity that the coy damsel who performs this operation for him should not have improved on it by shaving his head, the cure might then have been total. MR. CRESWICK is effective in the character of this forlorn outcast, but his voice is too old for Joe. You expect a piping treble to issue from amongst the poor lad's unkempt locks, and out comes a portentous basso profondo. The make-up and pantomime are very artistic. MR. EDGAR is a charming scoundrel, and MR. VOLLAIRE a delicious old rascal. The acting of Miss PAUNCEFORT is graceful; she cuts Joe's hair with a dexterity worthy of a better wig. There is some elaborate scenery in the piece, which we will take (goodness knows why!) as an atonement for the rather dull dialogue. Decidedly the writing of Nobody's Child is much beneath MR. PHILLIPS's standard. A new farce precedes the melodrama; of that farce-as we cannot speak with Christian forbearance-we will not speak at all.

MR. ADDISON took a benefit at the Olympic last Wednesday, on which occasion his daughters played Julia and Helen in The Hunchback

A LAND OF AMAZONS.

I'm staying in a wondrous land,

A grove of myrtle and of laurel, There's comfort in the noisy Strand,

But here the women shout and quarrel. It's very well to praise the sex,

But poets were but fools who sung them, And if you care your mind to vex,

Just live in Devonshire among them.

A mile outside of Plymouth Hoe

No man with common sense will wander, They know that Devon's girls are slow,

And hate the trash that mothers squander. If thoughts of comfort they possess, And wish to throw off melancholy, They'll leave this land of loveliness

To rear its Amazons and folly.

I don't know what infects the air,

Or what can taint the country's waters,

But come now-tell me-is it fair,

That every house should teem with daughters?

I'm not a rank misogynist,

But why should cruel fate debar sons;

A pretty girl I love but list,

in Devon their papas are parsons.

I talk not in a bilious mood,

I've had no worries to upset me,

I simply talk for Devon's good

I'll quote example if you'll let me.

To test my accuracy try,

Away and hear them sneer and snivel, Attend a tête of archery,

And then, my friend, go home and drivel.

Three Throws a Penny, Wise and Pound Foolish.

WE hear that a certain noble lord has, from long practice, acquired the skill of hurling missiles at the head of AUNT SALLY with such fatal precision, that he has obtained the soubriquet of "The Enterprising Impress-SAIREY-oh!"

THE SECRET OF ENGLAND'S GREATNESS. - Our wellbeloved Coal.

in a manner that brought the house down repeatedly, and procured both young ladies several recalls. MISS FANNY and MISS CARLOTTA ADDISON were creditably supported by MESSRS. MONTAGUE, STUART, WIGAN, and JOYCE. The performance of Gaylove, by a gentleman whom we do not remember to have seen before, was an event.

MR. AND MRS. HOWARD PAUL have secured the help of Miss LOUISA Moore, who has joined them for the last few nights in a brisk farce, called The Old Folks. The object of this lively trifle is to give the performers every possible opportunity of changing their dresses. Miss L. MOORE makes a delightful old woman, and MRS. PAUL a charming young man. This evening, we believe, is the last one of the PAUL performances at the strand Theatre, which house will re-open with a new burlesque by MR. BYRON.

ULTIMA

THULE.

LAND'S END, SEPTEMBER, 1867.

My lungs inflated with ozone,
My head with thoughts romantic,
I place my back against a stone
And face the blue Atlantic.
I've reached the land's extremity,
The past and present mingle,

I hold sweet converse with the sea,
And chatter with the shingle.

Land's End! There's something in the name
Most strangely fascinating,

Which leads me on to thoughts of fame,
And back to tricks of hating.

I've travelled some three hundred miles,
And now my journey's ended,

And shall I reap salt tears from smiles,
Or will the past be mended?

Will duns consent to hide their horns,
Or mercilessly sue me?

Will care come trampling on my corns?
Or MISTRESS FORTUNE WOo me?

When I return to London's grind,
It's sweetness and vexation,
A fairer future shall I find
Or plunge in dissipation?

Will MR. WEBSTER's scenery
Still hang in rags and tatters?
Good plays shall I be led to see,
Or stuff-insane as hatters?
Will managers show taste and tact?
The pace be slow or killing?
Will cabby love or hate the Act?
Blaspheme-or take his shilling?

Ah! little hand fast-locked in mine,

Wee fingers jewel-laden,

'Tis time-you say-that we should dine, Most unromantic maiden!

Come, here's my stick, and here's a hand,

Long miles away to-morrow,

You'll boast you've touched the end of land,
And I the end of sorrow!

How do babies that are fed with BROWN AND POLSON'S Corn, Flour feel?-Filled with a-maize.

Worthy of "Le Sport."

WE read in the Times of the 29th August:

"At the Meggarnie Castle shootings in Glen Lyon above 900 brace of grouse were shot by Mr. Smithes and party during six days' sport, besides wild duck, snipe, ptarmigan, golden plover, hares, rabbits, roe deer, salmon and black game.'

Had we not the authority of the "leading journal," we should never have believed that an English sportsman would increase his bag in the Highlands by shooting salmon. Such being Mr. SMITHES idea of sport, what on earth-or rather in water-may we ask, must MR. JENKINS do when he visits his Highland estate? But the thought is too deep for contemplation at the present reading of the thermometer.

A Likely Case-ley.

SET a thief to catch a thief-or foil a thief. In other words, employ a burglar to invent a burglar-proof safe. It is stated that CASELEY, during his enforced stay at Freemantle, in Western Australia, has invented such a safe, and has sent a model to the jeweller, for breaking into whose premises he was sentenced, as "some compensation for the loss of the robbery." To which paragraph we reply, in the name of the jeweller in question-WALKER!

A New Formation.

THE Court Circular, in speaking of the deceased French poet, BEAUDELAIRE, describes his forehead as "formed in long grey hair." We don't quite understand the meaning of the expression; we cannot understand how hair can form a forehead, though we could point out many men who owe the appearance of a nobly intellectual and lofty

forehead to the absence of hair on the fore-cranium.

THE FOREIGN "OFFICE."Keep your powder dry!

Answers to Correspondents.

[We cannot return rejected MSS. or Sketches unless they are accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope. We can take no notice of communications with illegible signatures or monograms.]

enclosed is one shilling." We should consider it dear at the half of a fortyT. E. B. (Notting-hill) sends a contribution, stating "the price of the eighth of that sum.

JENNY WREN.-Very creditable under the circumstances, but we Jenny-Wren-ly require something better.

WERG commences his lines with the quotation, "Lend me your ears." Does he take us for an ass?

A SUG-JESTER is thanked. The paper has nothing to do with the club.
He will probably find his other wishes satisfied ere long.
C. H.-No.

R. (Liverpool).-You R not of any service to us.
JOE-Under consideration.

NECESSITARIAN.-Try Notes and Queries. We don't undertake to answer such questions.

J. C. (Plaistow.)-The answer is "Billet Doux."

E. R. (Durham Villas, Lower Norwood.)-We disagree with your opinion entirely. WILLY (Lancaster).-Read Browning's "A Light Woman," and then do it if you can.

AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.-No, you are not!
DUNN BROWN.-Poor Dunn Brown!

Declined with thanks:-J. T. H., Walsall; Pietro Aretino; J. Mcl., Glasgow; Kensington; H. L. G., P. O.; M. B., Long-acre; E. G., Brompton-road; E. B., Westbourne-park; J. N. K., Shalford; J. P. T., E. W. C.; Ben; W. B.; A. G. S., Maida-hill; J. W. T.; Ap. Eve: Holloway; P. G.; Flying Fiend; J. G., Liverpool; Erin-go-Bragh; R. P., Belvidere; C. R. O; L. H., Carnarvon; Walker; E. A. M., East Sheen; B. F. H., Manchester; J. W., Camden-road; H. J. H., Wanstead; Ryde-ing on a Cob; One in a Milky Way; Saxon-in-Cornwall.

WAITING FOR THE WINNER. COMMUNICATED OUTSIDE BY A MEMBER OF THE TURF. AN' why not? If I chooses to call myself so, there ain't no law agin it that I knows on. My master-he's a butcher, he is-ain't got no sperret in him, and as I says, a butcher without sport's like biled mutton without the trimmin's. Lor, I couldn't live without it myself. Afore I was thirteen I'd put seven pence on the favourite, and now I'm nigh three year older I should say I was pretty well up. I've staked a tidy lot o coal in my time, I can tell you, and though I was pinched through takin' a false tip from a cove as calls hisself a prophet, but in my opinion didn't know no more o' stable secrets than I do myself, I've got over the Sun Ledger. I'm to be seen most days when there's a big event, outside of Bell's Life or else the Sportin'. There was a pictur', as come out some time ago: and what a precious sight on' em there are. I take in half a dozen penny numbers myself, all about boys as has raised theirselves through their own exertions to be piruts an' highwaymen, and bold smugglers, and sich like, as there ain't much feelin' for nowadays: but the one I mean was a pictur' called "Waitin' for the Werdick." What I say is, that there ought to be another done by some artisk as should be called "Waitin' for the Winner." There's a title! Why, I'm blest if it wouldn't do for a reg'lar mealydrama, if you was only to put another line underneath, like they always do in the penny numbers and on playbills;-Waiting for the Werdick; or, the Wicked Wiles o' the Wenomous Welcher. Now, then, where are you a-shovin' on, stupid? You want a prop in the eye, don't you? Do you think as you're to have the pavement when the wires is just at work and we're waitin' to see what's fust? Oh, I'm to be heard of here, or in any o' the pubs close handy. Why, bless your weskit, I know a pretty good many o' the tip-top sportsmen ; and they know me and don't mind taking me in 'arf-a-crowns. It'll be sovs afore long. Do you see that elderly party there as is leanin' agin the window? Well, he's been ruined four or five times by the Turf, and all becos he never was bold enough; that's what he told me hisself. He looks a seedy old cove, don't he? And he says he never had 'arf a nerve on him when it come to the time to put the pot on, and so he never did no good, even arter he'd made a heap by luck. He's goin' to put me up to a good thing or two, when I've got enough to back my luck; for you see there's some is lucky, and I'm one of 'em.

Look at some of the reg'lar tip-top bookmakers, what their histories was, and see 'em now down at Farringdon-street, or in the Park, or at one or two o' the pubs round the corner, as affable as you please, with a willa and their horse and shay, and champagne every day for dinner, and livin' like fightin' cocks. Why, I shouldn't wonder if some on 'em don't keep fightin' cocks. They don't come outside here, them sort don't; nor yet I don't mean to, arter a bit. I shall go to TATT'SALL'S when I've got a pair of new cords and my green cutaway coat, and then with a white hat, and yaller gloves, an' a flower in my button-hole, I shall be one o' the same swim. They are a rough lot outside here, and the perlice is always shovin' of us about so, but that's becos the general public ain't no idea o' sport; they ain't got the pluck for it, no more ain't 'arf o' these fellers, bless yer. They're costers, some on 'em, and broken-down postboys and omnibus cads, and there's even one or two publicans as have gone to the bad, and chaps as have come up from Liverpool and such places, to "look about 'em," as they call it They don't look far, do they? A-standin' about here half their time; but they're down upon the welchers like a cartload o' bricks, are these coves from the north. They're tolerable leary, too, mind you, and you'll often see one on 'em with a black eye, as you may be safe he's give change for. Oh, I know how to take care o' myself; but this ain't my game. I mean to put a handful on the next ewent, and then we shall see whether I can't rise to heminence. I'm too confined in my present business; butcherin' don't suit me, and so my mind's made up. What if I should lose on this? Well, I don't exactly know what I mightn't do in that case; but I think I should borrow the money-temporary-of master. He needn't know it, you know, afore I paid it back, and then o' course there'd be no call to tell him.

A Meat-ing.

THE journeymen butchers of London have held a meeting in Lambeth with a view to improving their position, and to diminish their Sunday extra hours of labour. We hope the butchers will get on first chop!

NOTICE.-Now ready, the Twelfth Half-Yearly Volume of FUN, being
THE FIFTH VOLUME OF THE NEW SERIES.
Magenta cloth, 4s. 6d. ; post free, 5s. Cases for binding, 1s. 6d. each.

He scouted all who wished to come

And give him monetary schooling;

And I propose to give you some
Idea of his insensate fooling.

I formed a Company or two

(Of course I don't know what the rest meant,

I formed them solely with a view.

To help him to a sound investment.)

Their objects were-their only cares-
To justify their Boards in showing
A handsome dividend on shares

And keep their good promoter going.

But no-the lout sticks to his brass

Though shares at par I freely proffer: Yes-will it be believed?-the ass

Declines, with thanks, my well-meant offer

"You have two hundred thou' or more,"
Said I, "You'll waste it, lose it, lend it-
Come, take my furnished second floor,
I'll gladly show you how to spend it!"

But will it be believed that he,

With grin upon his face of poppy, Declined my aid, while thanking me

For what he called my "philanthroppy."

Some blind, suspicious fools rejoice

In doubting friends who wouldn't harm them: They will not hear the charmer's voice, However wisely he may charm them!

I showed him that his coat, all dust,

Top boots and cords provoked compassion; And proved that men of station must Conform to the degrees of fashion.

But no-the clown my prospects blights(The worth of birth it surely teaches!) "Why should I want to spend my nights In Parliament, a-making speeches?

"I haven't never been to schoolI ain't had not no eddicationAnd I should surely be a fool

To publish that to all the nation!"

I offered him a trotting horse

No hack had ever trotted faster

I also offered him, of course,

A rare and curious "old master."

I offered to procure him weeds-
Wines fit for one in his position-
But, though an ass in all his deeds,

He'd learnt the meaning of "commission."

He called me "thief" the other day,

And daily from his door he thrusts me; Much more of this, and soon I may

Begin to think that BROWN mistrusts me.

So deaf to all sound Reason's rule
This poor uneducated clown was,
You cannot fancy what a fool

Poor rich uneducated BROWN was!

An-e Difference.

A CONTEMPORARY, speaking of submarine telegraphy, states that a cable is projected from San Francisco to the Sandwich Islands, and thence to China and Japan. It adds :

"Such a cable might in time be profitable, and in time the necessity therefore will be sorely felt."

If our friend does not mean, antiquely speaking (not to say antically), "therefor" his remarks are somewhat sarcastic, for the " sore want of such a cable-sec prospectus of future company-will be the "therefore" which follows the "because" of profits.