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[notb Bt Thb Author.—Tho loamod leech's analysis having just come to hand, I find the phial had contained thirty drops of hyperstrychnate of arsenico-prussic acid. As this dose was sufficient to kill a full-grown elephant in robust health instantly, the reader will be good enough to consider everything cancelled after the passage in which my heroine put the Dottle to her lips, an action "very unbecoming in a lady," as I fruitlessly pointed out to her at the time. Of course I can't be expected to carry on tho novel after her decease.]


[it would be absurd to pretend ignorance of tho writer of the following epistle. We have searched the police reports to find the grievance which calls forth Mrs. Brown's indignation, and will briefly epitomize the cue. An application was made a weak ago to tho Bitting magistrate at Lambeth by a gentleman, who complained that his mother had been removed from her house in a cab by three females, members of Mr. Sfuroeon's congregation, and that he had been refused admittance when applying to see her at the house to which she had been taken. On one cf the summoning officers being sent with the applicant, it appeared that the poor Lady, who was a lunatic, was in the care of her daughter, who denied that any improper force had been used in the removal. We quote the portion of tho report which appears to have given offence to our correspondent:—

11 Man. MACKKNTiRr, on the contrary, RAid that she (the invalid lady) had been harried and carried along; when, from her own expressions, she hid no desire or wish to part from her son.

"' Mrs. Biows, who was one of the three females who removed Mas. Mihcklit, denied the statement of the preceding witness."

With this brief introduction wo leave Mrs. Brown to speak for herself. —ed.]

To The Editor Of Fuw.

Sra,—Bcin' informed as yours is a orgin as is open to the wrongs of women, as mine would fill volumes, as the saying is, I wants to ask whatever I'vo done for to deservo it as give me that turn when Mrs. Challin showed it me in tho paper, as made me legs tremble under me; and no wonder, for if there's a thing as I've set my faco agin it's anything like kidnapping, thro' knowing what it is, when our Joe was lost a whole day thro' follering a berrying, and was thought to bo 'ticed away artful, and me only just down-stairs thro' Charlotte, as never was the child to thrive arter, and taken off her legs with the least thing, and cutting her teeth cross, as caused that squint as she'll carry to the grave, tho' the mother of three herself. Well, as I was a-sayin', when Mrs. Challin borrowed the paper at the " Catherine Wheel," drop I thought I must. "Me kidnap a lunatic?" says I. "Why, if there is a thing as I wouldn't havo at a gift is one of the poor deluded maniacs, as I never shall forgot tho one as got away from the 'sylum, and run seventeen miles in his night-clothes thro' tho turnpike-gates, as was closed agin him, took refuge up a chimbly, and very near frightened a old lady to death as was lighting of the fire, thro' lodgers a-comin' in unexpected. And then to say as I used wiolenco, as would walk out of my way for a worm in my path, and don't hold with using of force whore arguments did ought to be, tho' I have knowed them as you was forced to set on their legs a-gnashing of their teeth, tho' only historical, as a jug of cold water will often do wonders ; and as to pushing of her down tho passage, I never sot eyes on her or ever heard tell on her, nor them females, as in my opinion did ought to bo ashamed of theirselves, for it did put me out dreadful. The idea of mixing mo up along with females as frequents Mit. Spuroln's, a party as I don't hold in with the least, as I never see but once at tho Baptist meeting, where I was took unbeknown, and must say as he made that free with ser'ous matters as I shouldn't care to set under, thro' bein' ono as is always a-looking up to tho pulpit myself, and havo heard beautiful discourses in my times, tho' none of your dippins for me, as give me that turn when 1 see them a-doin' it as was obliged to leave the chapel sudden, and the scrougin' and shovin' was downright disgraceful at tho door, and my pockets turned inside out, as isn't goins-on for a Sunday in my opinion. So will trouble you for to set me right, tho' my good gentloman did laugh when I said as I'd havo the law on 'em as had took away my character ; and however that magistracy could set there and hear such things agin a quiet woman as has had her troubles, goodness knows. Not as I don't say as he was right in sending of her to Bedlam on tho quiet, as is in my opinion tho best placo for them as is so inflicted, tho' I have heard my dear mother say as w ell she romembored it up in Moorfiolds, as is now changed into the Catholics, where screams was awful and groans untold, thro' chains and whips, as is now done away. What I wants to know is why a party should make free with my name, as is well known, and can hold up my hoad with tho best; and let them ns can sny anything agin me speak out and do their best, ns is every one's duty; and as to being a female, if I'd a husband with tho spcrrits of a mouso he'd soon make 'cm prove their words; but, lor bless you, there he sets a-smoking away at his pipe and a-smiling till I was that put out

that I says, "I do believe as you wouldn't care if I was pinted at as I goes thro' the street; but," I says, "I knows as thore is punishments for parties as says them things;" for well I remember, tho' quite a gal, what appeared in our street, and can see her now, tho' lifted up by my own father, a-standing at the church door, in white, with a oandle in her hand, as is the law; for whatever can you do for to protect your own character, a thing as is easy lost if it wasn't as you could punish them as makes too free. But as to my husband's interfering it ain't to bo looked to. So I says to Mrs. Challin, "If only our Job would step in, as is a wonderful soholard, p'raps he'd do it for me." "But," says she, "Mns. Brown, mum, as you've been wronged, why not write, as," she says, "no one ain't more capable;" and certainly I did havo plenty of schoolin' out of my father's pocket, with a sampler as I've got framed up-stairs, as shows marking as would puzzle me now; but lor, if he was to know it I never should hear the last on it, as said when I was a-eomplainin', in the cold-bloodedest way, " Whatever does it matter what they says about you?" I says, "If you can lay down on your bed happy, a-thinking as you'vo had a wiper a-festering in your bosim all these 'cars, I'm not that party as can bear such amputations, and would rather be took a-smiling to the trailers, with a clear conscience, than a countess in her carriage with a spangled repitition, as may hold themselves that 'igh, little droamin' as them as they looks down on as minerals is their betters, and wouldn't bring a blush, tho' they may brazen it out, as well I knows thro' my own aunt being cook and housekeeper in a titled family, as the lady said to her, "Mrs. Walker," says sho, "that female will never darken my doors," as will try it on and are to be met with in the highest spears; and for me, after all theso 'ears, to come to bo in print as a female, a thing as no ono ever dared even to breathe about me! So, if you can help me, I humbly trust as you will; and as to Mm Spuroin he's the last of my thoughts, and why ever them young people couldn't keep their troubles to theirselves puzzles me, for I'm sure them quarrels in families reflects no credit, and had better be kept within their own bosoms; but if you can only pint out who it was as said it, which is what I want to get at, I'll precious soon put the saddle on the right horse, and would have gone myself and spoke up, magistracy and all, but them newspapers is no good, for they never tells you nothin' till it's over, for when I did go up to that police they only laughed and said it was clean forgot, and the parties gono they didn't know where, except the poor lady as was out of her mind, as it wouldn't bo right to trouble about sich a thing, tho' I have knowed them that rational as might be able to indemnify as I wasn't the party illuded to by tho police, as would swear anything as they was ordered, thro' considering their duty, ns is not to be envied, but did ought to be taught for to respect any one. As I don't wish my good gentleman to know ns I'vo rote I don't put my name, tho' you will know me as a party as you've heered on by tho enclosed card; not as I do no washing now, thro' being retired and livin' comfortable.


Bt A Grandfather.

Fields are green in the early light,
When morning treads on the heels of night;
Fields are grey when tho sun's gone west,
Like a clerk from tho city in search of rest.
You've probably read that "flesh is grass,"
And that's tho reason it comes to pass
That we change our colour in life's long day,
From tho young and green to the old and groy.

A short time since—as it seems to me—
I was as young as a youth could be;
Filling my head, as all children do,
With notions of life more nice than true.
Now this noddle of mine looks strange,
With its plenty of silver—and no small change!
Surely I've travelled tho shortest way
From the young and greon to the ola and grey-
Truly, the day is a varying thing—
In winter and summer, autumn and spring;
But days of December and days of Juno
Run into twilight a deal too soon.
Life is a drama, the world's a stage,
And the piece we strut in from youth to age
May run, like a farce or a five-act play,
From tho young and green to the old and grey.

DO YOU BRUISE YOUR OATS ?—Because, whether you do or not, you can get your chaff direct from Fun.



A Letter From The Country.

EAR Mat, do you know that we've started The grand Croquet Season to-day; You know I was quite broken-hearted When winter abolished our play. I put by the hoops with a shiver, And sighed when I thought forhowlong No ball would spin into the river— Some people can

croquet so strong, laid all the mallets

together, Half cried as I looked at the rain; But now here's the jolly spring weather, That brings us the croquet again!

We'd quite a large party —Miss Lester; Her cousins who croquet so well; Fred Lectern, tho curate from Chester,

A regular clerical " swell;"
Miss Ray, who's so terribly petted,
She sets all the men by the cars;
And Frank, who, you know, was gazetted

Last week to the 5th Fusileers; ,
We'd old Mrs. Hunt chaperoning
Her daughters so horribly fast;
And to you, dear, I needn't mind owning,
That Somebody joined us at last.

Of course, we'd a side; you can fancy

Who chose me instead of Miss Ray;
I wish, dear, you'd seen what a glance ho

Gave juet as wo started to play.
A knight of the old feudal ages,

So lowly he knelt on the sward,
And looked in my face for love's wages—

True service is worthy reward.
He'd placed the balls for me so neatly,

I croquet'd the red far away,
Then gave a sly look, and smiled sweetly—

Oh, would he but kneel every day!

What need to go on, dear ?—so charming

The first day at croquet.this year;
Miss Ray might make speeches alarming,

For clerical lovers to hear;
The Hunts might exhibit their dresses,

What cared I with him by my side?
But now, dear, " Good-bye," for time presses—

Some day you may greet me a bride.
I thought so to-day, when a Rover

He tenderly dwelt on my name. Ah, will he one day play the lover

As well as he plays at the game?


A Yotoo friend of ours who possessed sufficient creative power to make a book on the last Derby Day—and lost a considerable amount of money on the transaction—is now trying to build a reputation as the author of his own ruin.

POLITICAL ECONOMY. The M.P. for Peter-borough (we don't mean Rome—oh, dear no! quite the reverse) seems to know the whalley of truth, for he appears to be very sparing of that.


CHAPTER I. "And only in its infancy!"

In three minutes the speaker was in the land of dreams. Then a nightingale, perched upon the top wire of the telegraph, burst suddenly into a wild, sweet melody; ana tho tall, gaunt semaphores nodded their heads and smiled at the song of the nightingale, and the soul of the engine-driver was melted within him, and a tear stood in either eye—no matter which. He was a hard man, that engine - driver; nearly as hard as the stoker, in fact; but sometimes, when there was nobody looking at him, he wept like a child—quite like a child!

Let us return to the stranger. In asserting that steam was a wonderful invention, it had evidently been his desire to enter on a metaphysical discussion; and ho was grieved—not angry, but grieved —at finding his companion asleep. His noble and sensitive nature was wounded to the quick by the apparent neglect with which his remark had been treated. A sense of unutterablo wrong was aroused within him, and his whole being was changed for a time. Only for a time, though; the old tenderness came back again at last, and he shed tears—just as ho had shed them in bygone days at Birchington's Academy for Young Gentlemen. There was something inexpressibly touching, too, in the last words uttered by tho Bleoper: "In its infancy!" He also had been an infant once—had had the measles, and might never, never have them again. Then he wondered whether the sleeping man opposite had ever had the measles. Should he wake the Bleeping man opposite and inquire f

Meanwhile tho soul of the slumberer was visited by a vision of surpassing loveliness!


The station-master at Exbury was biting his nether lip to the very bone with anxiety. The 12.20 train, usually so punctual, was at least five minutes behind its timo, and all the Bath buns in the refreshmentroom were getting cold. What could it mean?

A distant whistle!

Pshaw! 'twas but the wind, or a car rattling o'er the stony street. But a moment's reflection taught him that all the pavements in Exbury were made of wood; and as for cars—what was a car f

The whistle again; nearer and clearer!

Oh, what horrible mystery was this? He was a tolerably brave man, that station-master; could snuff a candle with his fingers at thirty paces, for instance. But he had a daughter at home, and his paternal old heart throbbed audibly beneath his official costume as he thought of LueY. Lucy was the name of his child, and her age was thirty-five. Her long ringlets were similar in hue to the setting sun, and her eyes were the colour of a rainbow. She dyed them. Poor Lucy!

The whistle once more, and quite close.

It might, after all, bo only robbers. That part of the country was notoriously in a most unsettled condition, and Government had offered

an immense reward for the capturo of the infamous . (N.B.

This name was supposed to be an assumed one.) Tho station-master of Exbury took out his revolver; it was loaded to the hilt.

Tho barmaid, in the refreshment-room, looked sorrowfully at the Bath buns. Alas! they were quite cold. Such is life!


The Hillsborough tunnel is only five miles in length, but the darkness is so profound that tho most intimate friends might meet in the exact centre of it without being able to recognize each other. If a man were to hold up one of his hands at a distance of six or seven yards from his body in this gloomy spot, ho would find it impossible to guess whether it were his right hand or his left.

When the 12.20 train emerged from the Hillsborough tunnel it was growing dark. The stranger had gradually cried himself into a deep and dreamless sleep. The time for action had at last arrived.

Then tho man opposite cautiously lifted the lid from one of his eyes. Finding everything quiet he raised the other. Ho was now awake. A sardonic smilo crept over his usually impassible countenance as he slowly drew from the pocket of his paletot a curiously shaped bottle containing some liquid of a dark brown colour. He gazed intently for a few moments at the sleeping stranger. No, there could be no deception in that face!

Scarcely had he drained to its dregs tho curiously shaped bottle mentioned in a previous paragraph, when the sound of a whistle smoto his car.

Then another! Then another!

The stranger opened his eyes; but it was too late. The curiously shaped bottle had already disappeared. A sudden suspicion dawned upon them both. In another instant there were two anxious heads protruding from tho carriago-window. Yes, it was no dream; tho train was about to stop. There was a row of human faces—smiles of recognition—a distant view of cold Bath buns in the refreshment-room—and a myriad of strident voices that shouted " Exbviit!"

And tho stranger sank back into his seat, and his eyes wore moist, and his whole frame quivered with emotion, as the memory of the last words came back to him liko a dream. And he murmured softly, as tho train drew up beside the platform,

"And only in its infancy!"


(The right of translation is modest.)


By Our Own French Sportinq Correspondent,


Epsom's, Grand Strand, Wednesday, 31st May, 1865. 4.15 p.m.

Hourrah! Hourrah!! Hourrah!!! With a ouhip, ouhip, ouhip, hourrah!!!!

It is done then, oh vc insularies? Tho blow, has it struck you? Tingle your cheeks? Ha, ha! 0 gay!

Or tho champagno, boy—by bottles, by dozens, by oceans! I carry a toast:


The tpeetacle—it was magnificent, it was superb! My faith, those blonde misses of the brumous Albion, they have a certain charm, seductive though ingenuous, which insinuates, pierces, and subdues. The men themsolves—if they have not the alert vivacity and tho graceful case of France—are, as animala, creditable to their choppes and stilts. If it is the problem of Humanity, the riddle of the Sphinx, secular and always recurring; if it is the mission and the destiny of Man to have red cheeks and a stomach of tho most obstrusive, behold hero the problem solved, the riddle answered, tho mission accomplished —behold the fat and rosy sons of the Great Britain!

But, to win the Holy DerhL luoh qualities will not suffice! Wo need, for that, tho ingenuity ana the energy of France.

Oh moment for ever memorable—moment of passion, of tumult, of suspense—moment when the nerves vibrated like tho strings of an JEolian harp to the harmony unintelligible but supreme of the embalmy wind; oh momont of agony, of terror, of doubt j oh moment of victory, and of triumph, and of joy!

"The Frenchman wins!"

Yos, messieurs tho aristocrats! Yes, mesdemoiselles tho blondo misses! The Frenchman wing. Is it that you wonder f To the French, victory is an atmosphere—triumph an ordinary attendant upon common life—and the glory, it is our inheritance to us all, we others.

We had but to apply ourselves to tho turf to surpass at a stride your vaunted sportsmen of tho most exclusive.

Believe not that we shall border our victories here. No, the year shall not be over before French yachts shall float in the waters of tho Solent and challenge your effeminate dandies to an Ocean cruise! I will myself accompany thorn—although I do not love the Sea, mysterious as Eternity, infinite as Space, and disagreeable when rough!

We will meet yon, man for man, at the Lord's Oval, St. John's Wood, Kennington—your choson arena for the crickets. Ha, ha, wo too can be agile, wo others, and strike tho little ball high up in the air!

I have jnst accepted, myself, a challenge to box with tho Earl of Potter, who has told me—oh sad and for ever regretable coarseness of the insular noblesse—"not to mako such a thundering row!" Revenge! I must train myself for the battle. I will go home at once, and again wash my face, and eat a raw piece of pork! 0 gay!

Jean Goddc.

In Re Dawkins.
From the late Parliamentary talkin's,
In the case of unfortunate Bawkins,

I find, to my grief,

The Commander-in-Chief
And the Sec. acting " Spenlow and! Jawkins!"

Horticultural Mem.—When stocks are placed outsido tho thirdoor windows they may be quoted as the three-pair scents.

An Elegant Extract.—"M. m'aextrait les cors aveo succcs."

Louis Napoleon Imp. Front.

Here's a Jolly (C)lark!

Op onjoyment as a grand sum total, we all havo a sufficiently vivid notion. We identify it with a buoyancy of spirit, an unwonted mental elasticity, and a general disposition to console ourselves for the miseries of others with tho knowledge that we at least are happy. If we stood in want of anything to tell us when we are enjoying ourselves to the full, wo should find it in tho impatient irritability with which wo listen, under those circumstances, to a tale of horriblo distress, and tho indignation with which we regard a hopelessly crippled beggar who has ventured to bring himself under our notice. So much for the sum total. But when we come to the items we find that no two are entirely agreed as to what they are. Fivo and five arc ten, but so also aro seven and three, and so aro eight and two. It is so with tho constituents of enjoyment. We are all agreed as to what it is, but we none of us fully agree as to how it is to be attained. In one caso it may mean an artillery ball, in another pipes and boer, in a third it may even signify the middle of Drury-lfino pit in a hot Juno, during a performance of Henry the Eighth and Comus. But there exists a sourco of enjoyment whoso existence we novcr should have suspected. Wo gather it from the subjoined advertisement, wliich refers to a suburban tea-garden:—

"GARDENS.—Dancing every evening.—Here congregate all the junior

clerks in the Government offices, from the happy recipient of an allowance of .tl'O per month from the 'governor,1 to the dashing acceptor of a salary of 30a. per week from a hu hly respectable house in the City; and all are equally happy and delighted with II *s good tare. Two grand galas on the Derby and Outs nights.

Trains from Bpsom to gardens at five minutes to Feven."

There's an attraction! What more appropriate termination to the rollicking festivities of Epsom could you devise than lying lazily on the new grass and watching the sportive gambols of junior Government clerks? There is a barrowful of tranquil joy in the very notion.

Let us make a suggestion for the decoration of the tea-gardens.

Tea-gardens are nothing without statues. What does the spirited proprietor say to the following designs for plaster of Paris?

1. Clerks at play.

2. Junior clerks at the bath.

3. Senior clerk and nymph.

4. Clerk fleeing from nymph, changed into a laurel.

5. Clerk startled at the bath, changing a nymph into a stag.

6. Tho Three Clerks, tho apple of discord, and tho judgment of Trollope.

7. Mr. John Clarke fleeing from Bacchanal.

8. Torso of War-office temporary clerk, from the Get-Vat-i-can. There you are! There's a gallery of sculpture ready-made. We

charge nothing for this suggestion, beyond the price of tho number.


[it is quite impossible for us to reply to the numerous letters addressed to ns; but as we don't mind showing that we can do an impossibility when we like, we, for this once only, respond to a few communications.]

Poeta wishes to know whether we want some lines. If we did we should apply to the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway Company (Unlimited).

Prost writes to inform us that he has sent a few jokes on approval. Wo have looked through the manuscript, but have failed to find them. Perhaps, as the parcel came by book-post, they may have slipped out at tho end. He had better inquire at St. Martin's-le-Grand.

"Wiser And Better" has forwarded us some bets drawn on tho Downs last week, in hopes that we may avail ourselves of them as illustrations, as they are of no uso to him. Wo beg to decline tho offer with thanks.

Moosoo, to whom we aro indebted for "A Poesy of the Victory of Gladiateur, in the English," is respectfully informed that tho English has /rot so broken in its transit through the post that wo can mako nothing of it

Melancholy, who has sent us "An Ode to the Nightingale," should a-know"d hotter. If ho had favoured us with a personal call we could have informed him (in confidence) that ours is a comic paper.

A Subscriber (Kensington).—Yes! But if you had no choico between that block and your own head, you would appreciate a difficulty.

Declined With Thanks.—"An Essay on tho Effects of Banttno," by a reduced gentleman. "An Epic(leptic), in several Fyttes." "A Thousand and One Lectures on Anything in General," by an artoritic. "That Slang! Hoar wo must again!" a new and entirely original comio song, to., 4c, Sec.

Accepted With Pleasure.—A case of champagne. Three boxes of prime cigars. Two phaetons and pairs. A villa standing in its own

frounds. Numerous invitations from nobility, British and foreign. . season-ticket for whitebait at Greenwich, 4c, to., tc.

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In all accounts of dog-shows hitherto published, there is one peculiarity: it is that the notices are invariably written from the human point of view, never from the canine. It is high time that this should be altered, and we have accordingly sent several of our own animals to the Agricultural Hall. We print their remarks, so far as we can make them out.

Our Kino Charles' Spaniel (descended from one in the possession of Samuel Pepys) makes the following entry in his Dog-diary:—

*' Monday.—Towards Islington by road, with my wife. Pretty to see the carriages, but nearly run over, which maketh me to think how uncertain is our life, and yet how we do snarl and bark at one another. My wife looked, methought, mighty pretty; but, good Lord, how changeable is her temper! For near the Angel Tavern, as I stopped for a moment to salute my friend little Flo—who did look extraordinary fine, with a new piece of riband round her neck—my wife to grow jealous and to talk of divorce, saying Flo to be an artful and

designing But it is mere foolishness of my wife. Gave her part

of a bone which I picked up, and she to call me her dear old hubby and a darling! (Mem.—To find out little Flo's address!) And so to the Agricultural Hall, where a poor show—good in numbers, but inferior to that of last year in quality. Some of the Farmers seemed strong and healthy, and there were a couple of Dissenting Ministers, pretty to see; but, dear, dear, the fine old British Gentleman breed is, methinks, dying out. Some of the Female specimens, good; but these pestilent iron hoops that they do wear hurt me in the ribs, and my wife to laugh loudly, whereon it kind of koeper to threaten her with his whip, and I to show my teeth, but it was my wife's folly. And so home to dinner, very merry after all. (Mem.—To be at the Angel to-morrow!)

Our Whitcchapel Bull-pup makes a statement which, divested of some unnecessarily strong language, runs as follows:—

"Veil, I never see such a lot o' duffers, not since I fit agin old oneeyed Bob, a year and a 'alf come Michaelmas. There ain't scarcely so much as a anklo among 'em, let alone a calf, as 'ud tempt a dog of aperrit! And wot with their baggy trousers, yer never knows vere

yor are, vich I got a good 'old, as I reckoned, on a young cove, and ven I took my teeth off of him, blowed if my mouth wasn't full of sixteen shilling trousers and red woollen socks!"

Our Chinese Dog writes as follows, and. we are promised a translation by Sir John Bowbino :—

"Li tsin hang kwow, chow chow, le le, kco kee, li, bow, wow!"

Our Scotch Terrier, who appeared Tory anxious not to commit himself, observes:—

"A-weel, a-weel, it's just a queer world, wf dogs and men baith, the noo! Eh, mon, but it's a wise chiel that kens its ain father, and yo needna' fash yoursel' sae muckle wi' your pedigree—though I come mysel' o' a gude old Galloway house, that was far kenn'd and weel respeckit. And I'm just twal pennies the poorer, and the mair fule I! They that will to Cupar, maun to Cupar, but y o il no find Sandy Macfarlane pay anither bawbee to glower at a host o' twa-legged bodies wi' never sae much as a bark among them a'. Eh, but Burns was right :

"The Kine may keep a spaniel fine,
Wi' riband, sash, mod a' that;
The collar*! but the guinea stamp,
The dog's the gowd tor a' that!
For a' that, and a' that.

Your plates o' milk and a' that;
A terrier dog's a boon his power.
Good faith, he canna fa' that!"

In conclusion, we regret that we cannot publish a report from our French Poodle, who has not yet recovered from his terrible run along the course at Epsom. He had, however, the consolation of witnessing the victory of "Gladiateur."

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Printed by JUDD * GLASS, 80, Fleet Street, and

Works, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons, and Published (for the Proprietors) by THOMAS BAKER,

at V.; K«t Street-June 10, 1«65.



SERVE my Queen from
ten to four,
Where down Tall Mall
Dundroaries Baunter;
My salary's small—but,
ah! for more
Somo years I must bo
still a panter!
What chance of marriage
for a man,
However careful, close,
and thrifty,
Who of three hundred
pounds per ann.
(As fixed-on by the
Timet) lacks fifty f

My love for Emily's pro-
found :—
Her father, failing in
the city,
Died, paying tenpence in
the pound,
And left her penniless
and pretty.

Her undo John supports her now

(I'd like to see him in a pond ducked), And makes her feel acutely how Extremely generous is his conduct!

Yet she's with everything supplied,

With all the fashion that is Franco's— With flowers, and songs, and hacks to ride, And goes to concerts, drums, and dances. She's dressed in all that's rich and smart—

Moves in society the foremost— In fact she's in the Marriage Mart;

'Tis that which makes my heart feel sore most.

I think she loves me! In the Box

When music's charm is overpowering,
And that young puppy, Albert Knox,

Stands close behind us glum and glowering;
When fond Amina's taper burns,
Or sad Medea's love's reviled,
To me for sympathy she turns,
While gentle tears bedew each eyelid.

We mingle sighs for lovers' woes—

We smile to see their bliss made certain; And so the happy evening goeB

Till envious Fate lets fall the curtain.
She'll let me press her hand a bit;

And with me—though her aunt glares finely—
At parties on the stairs sho'll sit.
She's told me that I waltz divinely!

But what's tho use? Heaven save the mark!

Our wooing ne'er can lead to wedlock. She's poor—and I'm an ill-paid clerk;

Matters would quickly come to dead-lock. Unions are now secured by rents.

In lieu of those rare perfumes olden God Hymen's torch sheds ten per cents— Love's chains are eighteen-carat-golden.

So, she goes her way—I go mine!

Our love is vain, though for the best meant, And we see clearly, I opine,

That marriage is a mero investment; And wo must let this mad world wag,

And bow to Fate's decision ruthless. Well! I shall wed some wealthy hag— And sho a dotard, rich as toothless!

A Better-class Riddle.

If "ponies" could speak at this time of the year, what Greek prince would they name ?—Menelaus, of course.


A Farce.

Scene First.A street in Bristol. Time—a very pretty time of night. Enter two of the Makdietinc brethren.

Opening Duet.

Oh, we won't go homo till matins,
We won't go home till matins,
We won't go home till ma-a-tins,
Let's do another beer!
[Exeunt reeling. A policeman is seen watching them in the distance-

Scene Second.The grand oratory of the MaMictine brethren Jilted up as a peep-show with glasses for spectators. Father t Dignatius discovered 'monishing the brethren. Choristers in bed-goicns ringing large hand-bells.

Indio.—For this offence, O my beloved, hear ye the meet and fitting penance. For three weeks ye must neither cat, drink, sneeze, nor wink, but solemnly repeat, from day to day, tho title page of the Lifo of the Saintly Bopsius. Ye shall wear thistles beneath your robes, and thrice each night flagellate yourselves with the nettlo. l'ou shall

Orrtdoent.—Oh, I say—nonsense. You don't mean to say that you're in earnest f This is carrying fun a little too far. Bogus.—Suppose we won't?

Indio.—Then it will bo my sad task to pronounce the sentence of cx-com-monkeyation. Moreover, if ye fail to perform the penance enjoined ye shall be cursed.

Both Brethren.—We'll be cursed if we do, so it comes to tho same thing.

Indio.—In that case wait till I put on my swearing tackle.

[Exit, with choristers.

Bogus.—Oh, let's be off. I can't Btand him any longer.
Okrid.—No, no; wait a bit, and let's sec what he's after.

Re-enter Indionatius, with his face and hands black-leaded. Also choristers, burnt-corked, holding each a rushlight covered by an extinguisher, and singing in solemn chorus,

Fiat cum cura,
Turpis mistura,
Tcr in die capienda
Et noctaliter sumenda.

Indio.—Forasmuch as it hath pleased our beloved brethren—whom blank, and dash, and asterisk for all timo—to offend us greatly, not by the offence of drunkenness, which we regard not, but by tho heinous crime of disobedience to ourselves, let them now hear their doom. May they have warts on their nails, boils on their bones, chilblains on their eyelids, and bunions at the roots of their hair. May turnips infest their joints, and parsley sprout from their knuckles. May their feet become like even unto those of pickled eels.

Wli He he pauses for breath the choristers chant:

Response.—Vir bonus est quis.

Indio.—May they be dratted, bothered, confounded, flummoxed, flabergasted, shampooed, and be-devilled.

Choristek8.—Mihi est propositum, in tabornS mori.

Indiq.—May they fall on their noses when they wish to walk, and tumble out of tho bed on the wrong side when the y sleep. May their teeth drop from their feet, and their toes come loose in their heads. May their shirt-buttons fail them, and their sandals turn into mustard poultices.

Choristers.—Frigidum sine, aut calidum cum. Indio.—May their food be jerked beef, and their drink warm penny Bherbet.

Choristers.—Horum horum, sunt Divorum.

Indio.—May they be smuggled for guys, hissed at for gcesc, chivied for pickpockets, and poor-law-boarded for casuals. Choristers.—Et est pauper.

Indig.—Whack them, smash them, kick them, and Bmite them, O ye faithful among the people. May their razors bo blunt for ever, and their whiskers bo carrotty.

Choristers.—Omne adjectivum cum substantivo concordat.

Indio.—May all their money be bad, and may they catch tho measles once a week. May they see nothing by day and bogueys by night.

Choristers.—Ipse dixit—ipse tipse.

Indio.—Let the congregation depart, greatly edified, but horribly frightened.

[Exeunt the two Maledictine brethren,grinning.

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