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By The Sauntbebb. n* Sochtt.
HE French horse has won the Derby, and those who backed the Gladiateur can cry out "hey! bet I" in a very different sense from the old Romans. (For further particulars see Ma. Simeon Solomon's picture of several ladies with sluggish livers at the Royal Academy.) How delighted our neighbours across the Channel will be! I havo no doubt the news was at once telegraphed to Algiers, where his Imperial Highness of course swallowed it with all the avidity of the indigenous ostrich. It is rumoured that a political amnesty will bo proclaimed "~ and a general gaol delivery (not in our legal sense); and that a pardon may possibly be extended to that Imperial cousin, towards whom of late the Emfehok's feelings have been of an eminently cussin'-ly character. I believe I may contradict another rumour afloat in the clubs—that Mr. Disraeli is about to impeach Ma. Gladstone for high treason, tracing Gladiateur's victory to the enervating effects of the French treaty.
Comic songs in the present day are very pointless and vulgar things. But if they cannot amuso the wise they can employ the learned, for an action about the copyright of a so-called comic song has occupied the lawyers some time. I shall be very glad to hear that the musichalls have obtained permission to perform stago plays, if only because it may lead to the abolition of " comic " singing and the disappearance of " comic" singers, male and female, who are at present an insufferable infliction on those who would willingly patronise the better entertainments at the more respectable music-halls.
The M.P. for Peterboiough has distinguished himself by fierco trolleys of invectivo, and a most injudicious identification of himself with roughs. He does far more harm than good to the cause ho would promote, and deprives it of the support of respectable people, who will not consent to march through Coventry with such a regiment as his. I Vonder whether at the general election Peterborough will return to its WnALLEY-ing in the mire.
The Islingtonians are petitioning and agitating to get rid of dog shows at tho Agricultural Hall. I have no doubt it is very troublesome to bo disturbed by the bays of hounds for which others win the laurels, and that bark-arollcs prolonged night and day may sicken one of what a huntsman considers music. But I don't see how the Islingtonians will get out of it; for tho Hall was established for this and similar purposes, and probably a pecuniary profit can be proved to compensate the neighbourhood for the un-" common cry of curs" as well as thn +~—:
and in which you males insinuations as futile as they are false, with respect to ny
Those who wish to second any* reasonable effort to find employment for women, should pay a visit to the Exhibition of IUuniiriations at Mortimer House, Charles-street. The illuminations are as good ai those on the Queen's birthday, and last much longer. But seriously, this is a sort of work specially fitted for women, and its application might be extended to various branches of ornamental art very advantageously. Every one who has an eye for beauty of form and colour j must admire the noble old industry, to which the world is indebted for many splendid manuscripts. It was meritorious when exercised by the monk, and none the less praiseworthy when it now enlists the feminine specialities—taste and patience.
..o<6uuournooa tor the un-" common cry of curs" as well as tho tragic moos of cattle. At any rate the Dog Show is flourishing like a green bay-tree, with plenty of bark and boughwows. I hear, by the way, that there is one intelligent animal who sings, "My bark is on tho Shaw," in delicate allusion to his owner, but as I have not heard him mysolf, I would warn compilers of "Anecdotes of Instinct" not to adopt this Btory too readily.
The magazines this month fluttered out almost, unheeded amid the excitement of the Derby. On the whole they are not very Btrong. The Corn/till is not quite so good as usual in its illustrations; its lettor-press maintains its dead level. Ttmple liar is always readable; and Hucmillan't seldom fails to amply repay perusal, though this month it might well spare an article on " Women and Art," which is a kind of hen-RusKiNiSM. Lmubm Society contains a good story at tho beginning, but altogether is hardly up to the average, especially in the illustrations. The second number of the Shilling Magazine is a littlo improvement on the first, which it might have been without any superhuman effort. Tho improvement is mainly due to the artists. An i illustration by Sandys to a not very musical poem, "Amor Mundi," is a very gem of drawing, and there is a capital picture to the " Wild Flower of Ravonsworth." In other respects the magazine would seem to prove that if it be (as tho prospectus would havo us believe) to supply a want, it must be a w*nt of interest. What on earth could induce tho editor to append tho two injudicious letters into which ho was betrayed by a littlo adverso criticism? His worst enemy could not havo done him worse set vice. I must quote a really curious sentence occurring in one of these strange epistles:—
"1 will not dwell on the facblo details in which Too fraudulently anc'IV to me an arrserancs which I hare narer assumed, impressions «h:ch I have uever entertained,
A Scientific DarNKOfo Son*.
No matter what vintage—no matter what name—
Amidst Burgundy's hills or tho plains of Bordeaux
ANY AUTHOR MAN.
We have received tho subjoined paragraph, which looks rathor like a hoax:—
"Ijt«barv Norte*.—A mounted battery of volunteer artillery is l" '^J'^ formation, to hear the distinctive t;tle of the • Author*,' and to he^a^P^^^B
Kenilrmriimo e or lest directly connected with literature. Bright .inucipauow
lonm-d of this union of the pen and sword."
Whv gentlemen who are merely connected "more or less directly with literature should call themselves " authors," wo ares d a «ss
see; tliou^li, yi h ips Uwy have sis mm li ri„'ht to that d
Our reason for supposi
The Islington pesfj
what can't be curedsT
Triumphant Success Op Nicholas.
Well, my noblo sportsmen, and how do we find ourselves to-day? Tolerably brisk, I fancy, sanguineous and placid! The astounding success with which it have pleased the will of Fate to reward for the hundredth occasion the. sagacity and intelligence of your own prophet is by this time—to quota the gifted bard of Avon— familiar in men's mouths as all tho year round; and my reputation, always a good one, whatever detractors may now say, to whom in former years many is the glass of warm gin and water I have generously stood, is now brighter than ever. Self-praise butters no parsnips; and it is far from the wish of Nicholas to bo vanity-glorious or boastful. Still, modesty is ono thing, and will back himself to possess as much of that virtue as any man of my ago and weight, Irish only excepted; but it is quite another guess sort of matter to deliberately go putting your light underneath of a bushel of hay, whether insured or othorwiso. Why was talents given us if not that we might use them for the
of life at Epsom, Surrey. Yet I look upon my prophecy 6imply as one of many upon which your readors may rely, the old man being spared, which, though a little rusty in the joints, and now and then a hacking cough, is worth fifty dead 'uns still!
Likely as not, thero may bo found some detraotorlal whippersnappers, whom I wouldn't touch with my hunting-gloves on, nor domean myself by calling of them all tho most awfnl names as I caa lay my tonguo to, who will point out to you, Mr. Editor, in anonyicost letters, that in Number Throo of the Now Serious I didn't «b»ol«My | name Gladiateur to win; but then your French correspondent M Godin, did, and do you think that /, as your trusted, and des Tt.... trusted, head of the Sportive Department, would have Allowed sadk • J statement to appear in the light of print had Nicholas not t— m the samo opinion? Sir, I would not have done it—not for ""^^J coin. And did I not in my own communication speak Wsbsi^* favour of the winner, although some part of tho paragraphia been wrote in the French language, perhaps accounts for tl* and low-bred young buffoons not understanding meant?
But, Mr. Editor, is this all? No, Mr. Editor, indeed from being all.
Look back, sir, to your own filo in tho back office, 19 in Numbor Two of the New Sorious, published at Do you find the name of Gladiateur thtrt, or is lb* to conoodlo you, as he may say?
You dn find the name of Gladiateur given as a wianc printer, as is a deal too fond of altering my contri$«sw'^ alleged errors in stile and authorgiaphy, hadn't a** to reverse the order in which I sent my fet I Gladiateur's name instead of a " 1," which «a2 I •' manuscript, why'even tho voice of slander we* I land and sea, and the poisoned fangs of a (MSf^ can give no higher term to young Dick Jta«fc ** tho paddook itself, would long since ka-w elcmont—contempt! And il he didn't k»»*^fc foul-mouthod social nuisanco which if shop in tho Now Out "ould have arrows of Invc' »t the h
But no one— rs-il: I
whom, 1 M« Ssb
IMPORTANT FROM FRANCE.
Development Op Liberty! Thb "crowndxq Of The Edifice"
"thk Paris correspondent of the Globe says: 'The latest boon conferred upon Parisians by the Government of the Emperor is the liberty to sell tripe 1 Previously it could only be carried on under very stringent regulations.'"
This is, doubtless, the grand "Crowning of tho Edifice," so long promised by the Imperial Government. We knew it would come—we always said so; but even now, wo can hardly realize the immensity of the concession! ,
Vivent VEmpereur! la Liberie!! et Us Tripes !! .'
A TulULLEB Df THIRTY-SEVEN CHATTERS.
CHAPTER THE FIRST.
Thb clock struck one. One Tery naturally resented it. The hours formed a ring, each of tho combatants being supplied with sixty seconds in a minute, and a very pleasant set-to commenced. Timo was called, but having been rather late overnight didn't get up. Tho clock being good with both hands, one came off second-best. At the end of fifteen minutes, however, quarter was given.
Tho Lady Arabellina Db Coursey was issuing from the castle
£ito, with her greyhounds, when the hour struck. Luckily Lord Ichfikld was on tho spot, and arranged a meeting with its master, and tho difficulty was eventually got over. Her ladyship cantered off over tho purple moorland liko a page from Heath's Book of Beauty, though of course a lady cannot be a page, except on the stage.
It had been a portentous morning. The clock had given warning at five minutes to the hour, and several guns had been discharged, but were subsequently let off. The reason of the disturbance was Lady Arabellina's temper. Hor father, by keeping her at home, had put her out, for sho was anxious to keep an appointment she had made with Sib 'arry O'fane to take the haro with him. Her father was a staunch old nobleman, groatly beloved by all who didn't know him, and much respected (at a distance) by those who did. He was director of the New Crusading Company (Limited), of which Richard Cosub De Leon and Peter The Hermit were the promoters, with power to add to their number. In consequence of Sir 'arry O'fanb's declining to take soveral shares and a deep interest in the venture, Lord De Coursey refused him his daughter's hand. But she lot out so furiously that tho old gentleman, at the timo when our story commences, was obliged to let her out.
But, alas, for the uncertainties of love and life! As tho fair Arabellina rode out of the courtyard, she encountered Sir John D'extyste, to whom her father would fain (not O'fane) have united her in spite of her teeth. He approached her with a tear on his lip and a smilo in his eye, but instantly perceiving the anachronism, removed tho tear, dried it carefully with hia pocket-handkerchief, and placed it in his waistcoat pocket, whore he also deposited the smile, after carefully wrapping it up in a double meaning. Deceived by these artifices, the lovely Arabellina allowed herself to bo persuaded to taste a liqueur cordially presented to her by the suitor who did not suit her. When she had completely emptied and flung away the flask, she de-cantered down the winding road, in all the guileless innocence of youth and a chimney-pot hat with a green veil.
The wily Sir John smilod a terrible smile as he gazed after her. He was observed by an old but faithful servant of the house, who, immediately suspecting mischief, picked up the empty flask his mistress had flung away, and sent it with its contents to a crafty leech.
The Lady Arabellina, as we have already mentioned, rode away