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THE LOBLOLLY LETTERS.
WILLIAM, his love of philosophy will always lead him into messes,
wherever he is. He frightened us all out of our wits the other night A DOMESTIC DRAMA SET FORTH IN A PEW FAMILIAR EPISTLES.
by getting cut off by the tide in a little bay with steep cliffs. It was a [From Miss Julia Loblolly, Broadstairs, to Miss Aminta Jipkittle,
near squeak, for the tide only left him about ten feet square of sand Norwood.]
to bless himself with.
I shall always look back to our stay at Broadstairs with pleasure, Dear MINTY,-I am most miserable. I have been cruelly deceived.
for I owe it much. Yesterday I went down, as usual, to sit on the pier, where there is a
P.P.S.-I've just told the governor, who is quite satisfied. But he nice awning and occasional negro minstrels. Now a lot of silly people
does not think I have a call for his business, and seems to think are always writing all sorts of nonsense on the walls there, and I have
WILLIAM better suited to sustain the reputation of the house in oil and often, for fun, read them. What do you think? I saw written in pencil
colours. So he has offered me my share in money, to enable me the following dreadful words :-“ALGERNON, if you can manage to get to start in any line I choose. Hooray! rid of that odious J. L. to-morrow, meet your Lotty at the old place
THE END. under the cliff to-morrow." And then followed :-“I shall come this afternoon to look for an answer.” And there was an answer. And it was in his handwriting-I know it, never mind how! It was this:
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. “I'll throw J. L. over, and come.-Your ALGERNON.” Her ALGERNON, indeed ? But I have done with him, and Lotty (whoever she is) is
, No. 30. welcome to him, for all I care.
He strikes to free a nation sore opprest, But I am very miserable, and if it were not for packing I should cry.
With Austrian scars still plain upon her breast. GEORGE was very kind. When he saw what I had been reading, he
He joined the men who lately talk'd of peace, went and scratched it all out. So considerate, wasn't it?
And form'd wild plans by which wars no'er should cease. We shall all come back by the boat to-morrow. I do hope it won't be
Will some one give the hero one mild hint? rough. There have been such: high winds and tides lately, the waves
He really is a lunatic in print. broke quite over the pier. It was quite like the fountains at the Crystal Palace sometimes, only wetter. William got caught by the tide in a little bay one evening, and couldn't get out until twelve at night. He
Whenever in Paris we happen to roam,
We may sigh and exclaim that there's no place like home;
Of how in their fatherland Englishmen fare.
2. we've been home four days—and I only just take up my pen to com
A nice occupation, that's always in season, plete it. Dearest Minty, I am the happiest girl in the world. All is quite
But children should see that they do it in reason; changed, and I have had a lesson. But I will tell you everything straight
For horrible pains, as you'd easily guess,
Will result from the practice indulg'd to excess. on. You know sea-water ruins your boots, and I wanted to get some new ones. So GEORGB very kindly offered to escort me, and we went to
3. Poole-street, to a shoemaker called Steel, who GEORGE said was a capital A dear little maiden scarce out of her teens, man. I went in and sat down—and what do you think? The man. You'll read all her story in some magazines ; who came to fit on the boots was ALGERNON ACIER !! And, what was Her pa, from his name, might have lived in Kamschatka, worse, his real name wan't STEEL even, much less ACIER. He was only
For we knew that they called the old buffer BALATKA. the second shopman. I thought I should have sunk through the floor. But GBORGE was so good--so kind-80 considerate. He pretended not
A poet, who foolishly sought her, to know anything; and spoke quite patronisingly to this person. He
A lady as grand as you please, said he had seen him at Broadstairs, and they got into a conversation
Sneered at her for being the daughter though the shopboy looked awfully confused. It seems he is to marry
Of only one hundred of these. his precious LotTy. She is a shopgirl at Cant AND Cask's. There, now I've told you all-no, not quite all. In fact, I'm going to
5. be married—but I'm not going to change my name.
A lady of power that is surely gigantic,
I fancy she's starring across the Atlantic!
Her line, as we know, is the madly dramatic, Do you know that beautiful piece of poetry in the play of Romeo and
In tones that are gentle or very emphatic. Juliet ?-GBORGE wrote it in my album for me—about a rose with any other name.
River, river onward flowing to the vastness of the sea, P.P.S.-Don't tell Miss NIPPER, or the girls - unless you think you Thou hast now a name that ever shall by all remember'd be. ought-perhaps you ought.
His dress and his looks were exceedingly seedy, [From George Loblolly, Esq., Lower Carboy-street, to Charles Smith, Esq.,
You saw at a glance he was terribly needy ;
But what had I done that he wanted to borrow
A“ fiver," and vowed to return it-to-morrow? me, old fellow! I'm going to marry the girl I love. She's a regular little stunner, though she was a little stuck-up and spoilt. But she
ANSWER TO ACROSTIC No. 28. has had a lesson, and will profit by it for the rest of her life.
U Undo I told you I had a little scheme afoot, and now I'll give you details.
N Nu I twigged my bootmaker's assistant cutting a dash down here under an assumed name. He managed to make JULIA, who of course knows
Outrigger R nothing of swells, believe that he was one. It was mere impudence
N Norma and vanity, for he was engaged to a shopgirl at CANT AND Cask's, and
I she was down there too. However, he deceived poor JULIA completely,
S Sole and behaved like a scamp-but I took it out of him. Luckily, she
M wanted some boots on her return to town, so I escorted her to my
Moss shop, and then humiliated the fellow in her presence. She had had a CORRECT SOLUTIONS OF ACROSTIC No. 28, RECEIVED SEPT. 2517 :-None Correct. smart shock a little before, finding some scribbled nonsense at the pierend, and this completed the cure. She appreciated my conduct-for I never chaffed, and did all I
The Schoolmaster Abroad. could to console. In the end she consented to be my wife-there, old We read in a contemporary that “Mr. Frith has been commissioned boy! You and I have been chums ever since we fought together at to paint a portrait of H.I.M. the Empress of the French.” For the old WAPHAM's academy, and I always told you that you should be the credit of the paper concerned, we trust this is a printer's error; any first to hear of the splicing. You must be groomsman too, and give schoolboy must know that we should speak of the Empress as me away!
Ireland's (s)trop-ics. there's no chance of the young ’uns falling into the water. As for ! On what do the Irish people sharpen their wits ?— Their “och hone !”
THE TUPPER TESTIMONIAL.
“ Bill o' the Play.” An advertisement inserted by Mr. Thomas Hunt in the Times tells An ingenious American has invented a new style of programme for us that MR. MARTIN TUPPBR is “now at length," and that he is to the theatres. It is made of light pastry, and the letter-press is printed have a testimonial.
in chocolate paste. The notion is pleasant, and will be very popular at We have not heard of MR. TUPPER's decease, so we are rather at a Christmas, when MASTER HOPEFUL will look forward to his pantomime loss to explain the mystic intimation that he is “now at length;" but with more than even his ordinary "devouring anxiety." Puff paste the fact that something is to be done in recognition of his “services will of course be the popular medium for advertising stars, while a to literature and religion” shines unmistakeably through the fog of heavier hand will be needed for the production of programmes for bad grammar in which the announcement is wrapped.
dough-mestic dramas. One comfort is, that even in cases where a new It is declared that the form of the Testimonial will be determined piece won't go down, its bills can be swallowed. by its amount, and it is suggested that probably the simplest form is best. Both of these intimations point to a letter “O" as the form that
“ Mark Ye That!” the testimonial is likely to assume. Personally, we decline to send cheques to MR. Thomas Hunt for that purpose; but the following MES8R8. Bass have an enormous album filled with the forged trade. inscription, adapted to its probable form, is quite at his service :
marks of their beer, which they have collected in all parts of the
world, from Britain to Japan. Such imitations may be considered AD
tokens of admiration, but they can hardly be considered marks of MARTINUM TUPPER,
For those of Tender Years.
TAFFY is a Welshman, and, it's my belief,
When he tries to poetise, Taffy comes to grief.
(And so do other people besides Taffy.—ED.)
Must have been Born with “a Call."
A SPECULATOR, who has been let-in over head and ears by the col-
lapsing of limited liability companies and still survives, has cut the
acquaintance of an old and valued friend simply because he happens A PARAGRAPH is going the rounds, stating that “birds of passage
80 l to be, when in company, a “promoter"-of harmony. have begun their annual migration southwards.” A somewhat lengthy paragraph winds up with—“This is a presage of a hard winter."' 'Nothing of the kind! At this present writing the swallows are
Making the Best of It. skimming to and fro, and show no signs of meeting for their annual | THOBB unlucky wights who are unable to run down to the seaside flight. We suspect that paragraph !-and are inclined to alter its last for a blow on the pier, may still-at Covent Garden-enjoy their sentence into “This is the sign of a hard-up sub-editor.” .
1“ promenade" and their “ JETTY"-TREPFZ.
MRS. BROWN ON GAS.
nice manners, to compare a lady to a cart-horse.” He says, “You'd I DON'T think as ever I know'd anythink much wuss than the way
be a fine lady, take you by the pound." I says, “I don't want none as the streets is lighted all over London, and partik'ler out our way, as damage as I've done.”
way of your impidence," I says, “I'd rather give you a shillin' for the
Says the gal. “ Á shillin' won't pay mother, is darkness wisible all over the place, and I'm sure the gas in my, as ’ave been a-standin' ironing thesē things till she's nearly dropped, kitchen burns that dismal as mend her stockings by it the gal
and won't she give it me!" I says, “Where does she live She can't thro' a-wearin' black in mournin' for her father as was took sudden thro' disease of the 'art, as is all my eye, for the public-child were frightened, and as to the old man, as were her grandfather,
says, “ Close by." I says, “I'll come and see 'er," for I see the poor house was 'is end, as it is of a good many more. Not as I'd ever allow
he 'adn't no sense 'ardly, & servant for to wear black stockings, and so I told 'er, but of course
I never see a cleaner place than that poor woman's, tho' only one for the fust three months, as is only natural grief, as did ought to be
room, as got 'er bread by ironing as is 'ard work, and no doubt tries showed thro' respect. Not as any one could respect 'im, as were a
the temper, and I sees as she were a bit of a brimstone, but law bless downright disgrace and had got her out of one or two places tibro'
you, 'ard work and short commons, as the sayin' is, would try the B-comin' and ringin' the bell far gone in drink, and a demandin' on 'er
temper of a saint, and there ain't many of them about nowadays. as his child, and come that caper with me once, as pretty soon settled
| I soon told MRS. PRESWICK, as wore 'er name, all about it, and it was him, a-sittin' on my doorstep a-cryin' and a-sayin' it were 'ard to part
as much as I could do for to make 'er believe as it warn't the gal's a father and child, and 'er, poor thing, a-'idin' behind the wasbus fault.
mind the washus door thro' fright of him as 'ad laid 'er mother's head open with the
fault; as to the old man, he'd lewanted. So she says to me quite short,
Then I'll trouble you' to iron 'om over egin, for my legs is that dust shovel the week afore she left 'ome. So I jest marches myself
swelled a-standin' as I can't." I say, "Let's see 'em," so we opens the out and calls to a policeman as were a-passin', and says if this feller
basket, and I pretty soon eould tell as it wasn't werry deadly the 'arm touches my bell-handle again lock 'im up, as he did accordin', and so
as were done. So I says, "Put me down a iron," and takes off my WARDIN, as were 'is name, never come nigh me agin, but 'is fool of a
bonnet and shawl. Says the woman, “You don't mean to say as you're wife come and said as he'd took cold in the perlice cells as 'ad struck
a-goin' to try to iron 'em up" I says, "No, I ain't a-goin' to try, to 'im, and p'raps he did, but it was no cold as killed 'im, but constant
I'm a-goin to iron 'em,” for the ironin' board were ready. “Why," I gin and beer, as 'ad quite underminded his constitution.
says, I'll set 'em right in a quarter of a'our," and so I did, and made As I was s-sayin', the gas is a downright disgrace all about us, and
'em look all the better. So she says, “Whoever taught you ironia's I'm sure they're always a-tearin' the road up to look to them pipes, I says. “ One of the best as ever lived, as were my own mother, as and lets a lot of it escape as the smell on is enough to knock you down, I did used to get up lace for Court ladies as good as now,”
new" and so it did me elose agin Lambeth-walk, where they'd been and
1 I don't think as ever I see anyone stare more than that poor gal, as digged up the pipes and not left room for any one to pass without she
she watched me, and I says to er mother, “You're too heavy-banded alkin along the bank as they'd made ia throwin' up the earth on the
che with your starch, as a dampin' with a wet cloth will improve this are
with our errement shameful. It's all a job, no doubt, and how they gets their l'abit shirt," and so it did. So I says, "Now, my dear, you may he oli livia', the same as the water and the drains, as they're only too glad
with them; where's you'r grandpa as you calls 'im?” She run for to for an excuse to dig the place up, as is work for 'undreds, the same as
find 'im, and that poor MRS. PRESWICK told me'ow she'd been degerted itor dora the Commercial-road three years ago, as nearly cost me by her 'sband. and left with three, and lad for amin tantilesh my life made many more. For I was a-goin' out in the evenin' for to bein' bad in or breath as the Mootor tolder onld stana to dropsy. I makea tour purchases, and 'ad got into the Commercial-road and all
think werry Hikely, and the maid as sho'd 'ar father op 'ar Andamas the deaine was up all over the place, with the earth mountains 'igh li
mountains se lived in the back kitchen with a mangle,sme.almont past work, and on thro' pools of water on the pavement. A lot of idyots was a standin
I sad been a boot-closer. I quite took to that woman, and she was that
clean and 'ard-workin', so you see some good come out of the gas and up the swatchin' the men at work, as is always the way with them
no thanks to them, as is a set of cheats, a-comin' botherin' constant as is idle, and I was in a 'urry and says, “Oh, do let anybody pass !"
about their metre, as is always wrong, and I 'ates the pasty and Ono says, “Why didn't you send word you was a-comin po' Another
stilling feeling of gas as ain't fit for anythink but shops and passages, says, "Mako way for the lady maress !" all a-jeerin' at me. Well, jest
and in a small room is a downright furnace, and spiles everythink and then if one of them men as was working down below didn't break open
| blacks the ceilin' like a chimbly and I can't abear it, and if it don't a water-pipe with his pickaxe, and up comes the water like a fountain
get better I'll go back to candles, as I shouldn't mind but for the 2-delugin' any one. I was obligated for to step back like, when I
snuffin', as is never endin' work, let alone the dirt. heard parties a-hollerin' "Hi! bi!" and felt myself reg'lar swep' off my legs, and down I goes with a many more into that there drain, -top of the workmen, and it's a mercy as I pitched into where it was
TRANSPARENCIES. soft mud, or I might 'ave broke my back. Well, them navigators as they calls them as were at work tho' a
BY A MAGAZDXB POBTE6B. rough lot, was werry kind a-liftin' of me into dry ground agin, and I
If I were a jelly-fish great and good, says, “ Whoever was it as shoved me into the drain ?" So & chap
Oh, what a jelly-fish I would be ! saya, “ Why, that ore moke-" I says, “Who's a moke?” “Why,
But I can't be a jelly-fish o'en if I would, he says, "'Im with the papnyers," and so it proved to be a donkey, for if one of them costers 'adn't come along the path behind us with
And so, as a jelly-fish, look not on me ! 'is donkey as the pannyers on had knocked every one into the drain in
To float away on the roaming wave a row till stopped by a tinker as 'ad a pot of fire, with a 'ot iron, as
Whithersoever the wave might list, pretty soon waked that coster up, and a nice fight there was. I'd a
That is the life that my heart would cravegood mind for to jump into the drain agin, as I should have been
That is the spell I could never resist. knocked into but for the perlice, as come up, but 'ad to turn back' ome bedaubed from head to foot, and lumps of clay a-stickin' to me, as dried
To swim, and float, and wander away as hard as flint and stuck like wax.
To no matter where and no matter why, Well, I was a-walkin' down Lambeth way the other evenin', and
Like yonder pale jelly-fish out in the bay, they was a-takin' up the gas-pipes as I'd smelt for ever so far, and
That is the sort of existence, say I. they was a-tryin' of the pipe all along with a bit of rope as they'd set
This may be poetry-may be it's proselight to, when all of a sudden it flared out that wiolent as made me
May be it's-anyhow, this is enough; back sudden, and down I went. I thought as I fell wonderful soft, and
It will pass for a poem as poetry goesfelt as I'd gone into something as wasn't paving stones, and I heard
Jelly-fish fashion—transparentish stuff ! sich a cryin', and a old man and a young gal a-screamin' at me and tryin' to pull me up. I says, “Let me alone, I can get up,” but no I couldn't, for I seemed stuck like. The young gal began abusin' me
Unreported Dramatic Fact. frightful, a-callin' me a stupid old hass. A young feller as were ONE thing connected with the recent interesting performances of passin' says, “Up with you, mother, you're a-crumplin' the linen," Romeo and Juliet at the Adelphi has been most unaccountably ignored and up he jerked me that wiolent as seemed to hustle my bones. I by the papers. We allude to the fact that Mr. Tom TAYLOR played says, “ Whatever do you mean, a-usin' sich wiolence to a lady as 'ave Nurse to Miss Kate TERRY's Juliet. It is fit that so notable a fact only got summer things on as'll tear like tinder ?” “I should like to
should be put upon record, though that being done, little is needed by tear you to tinder,” says the gal,,“Look here, a whole week's work way of comment. Anything undertaken by Mr. T. T. is sure to be ruined !"
done well. Briefly, then, the distinguished dramatist supported Miss I looks round, and if I hadn't been and 'set down in a basket of TERRY admirably. His garrulity was simply wonderful, and his clean clothes as that old man and the young gal was a-carryin' scolding was superb. between 'em. I says, “Why did you get so close behind me?" Says the old man, “You backed like a restive cart-horse." I says, “ That's THE MODERN “Free LANCE.”—Gratuitous Vaccination.