'YOU ARE WELCOME, MASTERS, WELCOME ALL!"

THE other day, at Maybury, the PRINCE OF WALES inaugurated the Royal Dramatic College. The ceremony over, his Royal Highness, attended by the Council of the College, ascended the steps that led to a temporary platform, and waited for the special train which was to convey its royal freight back to London. He, if we may be allowed to use that familiar pronoun in reference to royalty, had to wait some twenty minutes before the en-gine, as the Americans call it, saluted him with a puff of smoke. During that time H.R.H. looked round upon the Council and their white wands. There were tragedians with white wands, and comedians with white wands; in fact, the appearance and demeanour of the actors was (q)white wand-erful. His Royal Highness-feeling that he required some conversational refreshment a light lunch of BUCKSTONE, or a gentle repast of WIGAN, or something of that sort-expressed a wish to speak to MR. TOOLE, of the Adelphi. That gentleman was brought forward, and an animated conversation ensued.

It is the proud privilege of the proprietors, editors, contributors, compositors and vendors of this journal to know everything that happens, and a good deal that does not-which is not an uncommon thing with journals-and which will account for the following verbatim report of the conversation between his Royal Highness and

MR. J. L. TOOLE.

MR. J. L. TOOLE, whom, for the sake of brevity, we will call J. L. T., bows and leans upon his wand after the manner of POLONIUS. H. R. H. (His Royal Highness) smiles, and wishes he had a cigar.

H. R. H.-Very glad to see you, MR. TOOLE. We've had a very beautiful day.

J. L. T. (unaccustomed to princes, but smiling.)—Yes, your Royalhighnemajesty-I mean, your Royalmajehighnesty. (Thinks of MR. JOHN MADDISON MORTON, and becomes confused.) Charming weather for the trees and the fruits, and-and-productions of all sorts. All well at home, I hope, your Highness?

H. R. H.-Quite well, thank you.

J. L. T. (tearfully).-The Princess and (with a voice broken by emotion) the baby?

H. R. H.-Quite well, thank you.

(J. L. T. pokes the Prince in the ribs with his fore and middle fingers, and says "ck." Would say, "You dog," but sees that the Prince doesn't like it. An awful pause, during which J. L. T. contemplates his wand as if it had never struck him in that light before, and looks a sadder and a wiser man.)

H. R. H.-I hope that your friend, MR. PAUL BEDFORD, is quite well. J. L. T. (rallying).-Thank your Highness, I believe that the dear infant is now taking his natural refreshment from a champagne bottle in the tent.

(H. R. H. smiles. J. L. T. thinks he will offer him a cigar; takes out his case and finds it empty).

H. R. H.-I am indebted to you for many hours of very great amusement, MR. TOOLE.

J. L. T. (resolved to impress the scion of a Royal House).-The stage, your Highness, is an agreeable relief from politics, the study of which engrosses my chief attention. The present position of Germany now (thinking that he interests the Prince, and failing) is a source of great anxiety to me. I cannot sleep o' nights for thinking of it.

H. R. H.-I was very much pleased in the Knotting 'em Brothers with your personation of the American lecturer.

J. L. T.-And then again there is America. How wonderful is that Republic! The present President, as your Royal Highness is no doubt aware, was a tailor.

H. R. H. (thinking of POOLE).—Some very good fellows tailors. J. L. T. (resolving to order a new suit).-Very good fellows, indeed, your Royal Highness. And the Italian question is also fraught with complications. It was but the other night that I was saying to my friend MR. ROBERT ROMER-your Highness knows MR. ROBERT ROMER of the Adelphi.

H. R. H.-Perfectly; who does not?

J. L. T.-MR. ROBERT ROMER was saying that the attitude of Prussia vitiated the political secretions of the entire European epidermis.

H. R. H.-I was very much pleased with you in the Willow Copse too. I should like to see that piece again.

J. L. T.—It shall be played for my next benefit twice during the same evening. Places can be secured two years in advance. But to return to Prussia

H. R. H.-To return to London, I think. (The special train arrives puffing at the Dramatic College as if it were a morning paper.) Good morning, MR. TOOLE. Most happy to have made your acquaintance. [Exeunt prince and engine.

MR. TOOLE cries "Adieu," and waves his lily wand.

LITERATURE.

SIR,-The success which has attended the publication in your pages of my French edition of "Fly not yet," is attested by the fact that in many continental countries it is already adopted as their national anthem. It has become the song of the day all over the continent. Under these encouraging circumstances I am tempted to submit the following translation of another bacchanalian ballad, by the same distinguished author. I allude to the late THOMAS MOORE. GARRYOWEN. .I.

On peut voyager comme un enfant à une fête,

We may roam through the world like a child at a feast,
Qui ne goute qu'un bonbon, puis s'en va inquiete ;(')
Who but sips of one sweet, then flies off to the rest;
Et si plaisir commence vous ennuyer dans l'est,
And if pleasure begins to grow pale in the east,

Tu peux prendre tes ailes et t'en aller à l'ouest.
We may call for our wings and fly off to the west.
Mais si cours qui tâtent et yeux qui brillent,
But if hearts that feel and eyes that smile,

Sont les mellicures choses bon ciel nous donne,
Are the dearest gifts kind heaven supplies,
Nous n'avons pas besoin de quitter notre île,()
We never need leave our own bright isle,

Pour sensitifs cœurs et pour yeux qui étonnent.
For sensitive hearts and for sun-bright eyes.

N'oubliez donc pas quand on couronne ta tasse,
Then remember whenever your goblet is crowned,
Dans le monde si à l'est ou à l'ouest tu vas,

In the world whether eastward or westward you roam,
Quand la chope aux sourirs de la Beauté se passe,
When the cup to the smile of sweet women goes round,
Oh n'oubliez pas ceux que vous quittez là-bas!

Oh remember the smiles that adorn them at home!
II.

En Albion le jardin de Beauté est mis,

In England the garden of beauty is kept,
Sous un dragon de pruderie chainé tout prêt;
By a dragon of prudery chained within call;
Mais si souvent cet animal s'est endormi,
But so oft this unamiable dragon hath slept,
Qu'après tout le jardin n'est pas trop bien soignè
That the garden's but carelessly watched after all.
Oh il manque cette wild sweet briery fence,(3)
Oh it lacks that wild sweet briery fence,

Qu'autour les plantes de l'Erin dwells;(3)
That round the plants of Erin dwells;
Qui previent la touche en gagnant the sense,(3)
Which warns the touch while winning the sense,
Ni charme nous moins quand elie most repels !(3)
Nor charms us least when it most repels!
N'oubliez donc pas, &c.

Then remember whenever, &c.

A. DAPTER.

(1) "Enfant" est masculin et "inquiete" est feminin. C'est ainsi avec les hommes et les femmes. Telle est la vie!

(2) Il existent des poetes soi-disant, qui diront que "ile" ne rime pas avec "brillent." Mais ils n'en sachent rien.

(3 3 3 3) Ces paroles de Toм MOORE sont si magnifques que j'ai pensé que ce serait mieux de les laisser, et de ne pas les traduire ce n'est pas que c'est difficile à trouver des rimes. Je ne sais pas si "rime" est le Français pour "rhyme" mais je pense que c'est possible que ce soit.

THE FAMILY LIBRARY.

In the press, and shortly will be published.

The Candidate for Chester: a Historical Romance. By the RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE, M.P.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer: a Vindication. By MR. W. H. GLADSTOne.

The Veteran Reformer; or, Ask Papa. By VISCOUNT AMBERLEY. The Youthful Patriot; or, A Chip of the Old Blockhead. By EARL RUSSELL. Homer and his Translators. By LORD STANLEY. Essay on Philosophical Statesmanship. On the Advantages of Foreign Travel. Richard the Outlaw: a Tale of Terror.

By the EARL OF DERBY. By the HON. R. BETHELL. By LORD WESTBURY.

dressing-up of the volume with illustrations by DOYLE and MILLAIS is not complimentary when one remembers that the two first volumes of the series were not pictorial. There are few poets of the present day who would come out of the ordeal as well as MR. LOCKER, but he should not have been subjected to it by injudicious advisers.

MR. SWINBURNE, whose Atalanta in Calydon has achieved a success, which I thought it was much too good to win with the general public, is about to bring out another volume. This time, I believe, he pub

lishes with MESSRS. TINSLEY.

"A"-good deal of ignorance" is a dangerous thing." Here is a little bit of art criticism from a daily paper:

"The Lay of KING CANUTE' (No. 327). A worse title cannot be conceived, unless we take it in the slang sense, and discover that KING CANUTE's

lay' was to make his courtiers row him near to the land that he might hear the monks of Ely sing."

If the critic had read his Mrs. Markham he need not have gone to the Slang Dictionary, for he would then have learned that the verses quoted against MR. O'NEIL's picture in the catalogue are supposed to have been written by KING KNUT himself, though I believe erroneously; but I'm no authority on these subjects, as I have never been so nearly becoming a member of the Society of Antiquaries as to get blackballed even.

"Then the lettre de cachet?"

"Was in the handwriting of the COMPTE D'ARTOIS."

PIERRE buried his face in his hands. "What proof have you of this?" he gasped, hoarsely.

"When was JEAN PAUL MARAT known to betray a friend or to forgive an enemy?" croaked his companion, whose countenance grew fiend-like. "I hate the proud Austrian woman, and abhor those pampered aristocrats who grind the faces of poor and honest patriots in the dust. Listen, PIERRE. Before six months have rolled over the head of France there shall be a day of retribution-a day ofA loud summons at the door interrupted the speaker. "Entrez," cried PIERRE, checking the oath which rose to his lips as the door opened.

The new comer was plainly but neatly dressed. His features were sharply defined, and his complexion was of a somewhat unwholesome tint.

"Gentlemen," he began, in a high, ringing, but not unmusical tone of voice, "pardon my intrusion. I am an utter stranger in this great city, and, having lost my way amongst its windings, I find myself obliged to seek shelter under this hospitable roof. May I be permitted to share your society and conversation?"

There was a grave dignity in the stranger's manner that awed while it fascinated. He took a chair and called for wine.

The clock struck four, and still the two friends sat listening greedily to the torrent of eloquence that poured from the lips of the stranger. At length he rose.

"You will at least let us know," said MARAT, respectfully, "to whom we are indebted for this intellectual feast."

The stranger smiled sadly.

an unscrupulous one; and, partly by threats, partly by promises, he had compelled his daughter to receive the addresses of the VICOMTE DE BEAUNE, a notorious gambler. VALERIE, whose affections were already engaged, strove in vain to shake her parent's resolution. On the night of the 3rd January, 1789, the Château de Saint Julien was the scene of a frightful tragedy. The unhappy marquis, who was discovered by the servants at the point of death, affirmed that three men of gigantic stature had found their way into his sleeping apartment, and inflicted upon him the wounds of which he was dying.

A rigid search was made by the officers of justice; but for some time the search was fruitless. At last, however, on the third stair from the marquis's bedroom they found

pondent for a daily contemporary) has been suddenly called away [Our valued contributor (who acts occasionally as the special corresfrom town on public business. We have extorted from him a promise to send us the remainder of his charming little story by telegraph. No doubt it will arrive in time for insertion in the present number.ED. FUN.]

*

P.S. Our contributor has treated us shamefully. We waited, until suspense became agonizing, for the sequel of this tale, and then sent off a telegram to the author. We annex a copy of our despatch :"Well! found what, you sneaking hound?"

This appeal produced the following unsatisfactory reply:"The mark of a

We then tried conciliation, and sent a despatch that we thought eminently calculated to bring about the desired result. Here it is:"Oh, think of the millions who are getting rather anxious to hear what on earth it could have been the mark of. Think of the weeping wives and families who-"

This message contains exactly thirty words. We didn't care to embark too much of our capital on a doubtful issue, or else we should have sent forty. No reply has been received either to this remonstrance or to the following question which we sent a few hours ago :"Could it have been a boot?"

ourselves with laying the foregoing correspondence before the public We must, therefore, let the matter rest for the present, contenting to convince them that the fault is not ours.-ED. FUN.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

A LOVER OF LEMPRIERE.-We do not remember meeting with the story of the fraud practised by PHвUS on NEPTUNE. But we have often seen the sun taking a rise out of the sea.

A FURIOUS PARTY.-Any exhibition of force is punishable by lawexcept it be in the form of a frame, and applied to cucumbers. Ask any respectable solicitor, and let us know when you have found him. AN INVALID.-Your doctor is quite right in recommending exercise. It is strongly recommended by CELSUS, who seemed to consider it everything, to judge from his celebrated maxim, "Valks, et præterea nihil."

AN INQUIRER.-ZIMMERMANN was a recluse who hated society, and wrote a book in praise of solitude. He early showed a disinclination to make friends, and cut his own teeth while yet in arms.

AN ARTIST, who has been kind enough to leave twenty blocks as specimens of drawing, with the information that he has three hundred more on hand, will greatly oblige us if he will call for the timber, or we shall have to charge warehouse-room.

PICTOR IGNOTUS offers us a few cuts if we want them. It depends on the kind of cut he means. Why does he not give us the cut direct? If he means a cut at a haunch of venison, we say "Decidedly yes!' If he means a drawing, of the sort he encloses, by a cut, we can only say, Cut, by all means!"

DECLINED WITH THANKS.-A dozen fine old crusted jokes, very originally forwarded as original by A. Doo, I. STEEL, and others. "A Poem on Equitation," in several canters. "Sir Gallimaufray; a sensation romance, in seventy-eight convulsions. "The Parrot of the Peraira," by CAPTAIN CAN'T WRIGHT.

RECEIVED, WITH GRATITUDE.-Every encouragement from a generous

"And your name is

"MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE, at your service!"

CHAPTER II.

THE THIRD STAIR.

VALERIE DE SAINT JULIEN was heiress to one of the proudest titles in France. Her father, the marquis, was not a bad man, but he was

THE RIVAL GUNS.

BY A MEMBER OF THE COMMISSION OF INQUIRY.
You ask us which for harm's strong,
Which most we would admit worth:
Well! the Whitworth is an arm strong,
But the Armstrong's not a whit worth.

THE BRITISH INSTITUTION. [N.B.-Our Art Critic is out of town; and we do not hold ourselves responsible for the opinions of the gentleman whom he has appointed his substitute.-ED.]

WITH every desire to encourage rising merit, we find it hard to speak in favourable terms of the works that are now on view at Number Fifty-two, Pall-mall. They are, we presume, the productions of very young men, several of whom appear to be of foreign extraction. But they are certainly unlike the masterpieces of modern British art which are annually exhibited in Suffolk-street and Trafalgar-square. The artists would do well to wait a few years before they again provoke public criticism.

A MR. P. P. RUBENS, of whom we hear for the first time, has sent a couple of contributions, in both of which he is understood to have depicted himself and his wife. This young gentleman has yet to learn that domestic affection, though praiseworthy in itself, will not atone for gross slovenliness in the handling and crudely inharmonious colour. He should study the works of MR. FRANCIS GRANT, R. A., if he really wishes to attain to excellence as a portrait painter.

A couple of landscapes by a gentleman who exhibits under the obviously fictitious name of CLAUDE LORRAINE, are devoted respectively to "Morning" and "Evening." It would be hard to say which is worse. Both are tame and conventional to a degree.

A picture by one MR. REMBRANDT is chiefly notable for its grossly affected disposition of light and shade. The title, too, which he has unblushingly affixed to it-"REMBRANDT'S Mistress "-is egotistical and offensive, if not absolutely immoral. MR. REMBRANDT must either be a profligate or a footman. Let him learn modesty from the great artist who painted "Whistler's House."

Another gentleman, who rejoices in the euphonious cognomen of VANDYKE, sends a set of historical portraits; but they are trivial and insignificant in comparison to the divine works of our own native PICKERSGILL, R.A.

SIGNOR GIORGIONE-if we are right in supposing this exhibitor to be an Italian-shows A Musical Party." He is absolutely destitute of any true sense of colour, and seems to fancy that a conventional golden tint will serve instead. But he has mistaken his epoch. This kind of thing won't do for London in the nineteenth century. Our foreign friend should study the productions of MR. SOLOMON HART and MR. CHARLES LANDSEER.

We suppose that these young painters consider it exceedingly witty to hide their real names under some ridiculous equivocation "MR. CANALETTO," for instance, no doubt passes as a humourist in Newman - street, through his absurd pun upon one of the most interesting features of that beautiful city-Venice-which he has tried to paint; we allude, of course, to the canals. Indeed, but for this ill-considered piece of buffoonery, his works would probably not have attracted any attention at all. They are emphatically of the tea-board style of art.

A MR. S. ROSA (why does he try to hide the SAMUEL? We hate these affectations!) contributes what we presume he calls a landscape. We call it a smudge!

One" CUYP" (probably a misprint of the name) shows a "River Scene," but it is misty and unintelligible; whilst the same unfortunate victim of a printer's carelessness, has a "landscape" which it would be cruelty on our part to criticise, but which it is insolence on his to exhibit.

We have only visited the gallery twice-once on the private-viewday, when it was crowded, and again on a shilling day, when there was scarcely a person in the room. It is, of course, easy enough for these young men to pack the room with their private friends; but taste is not yet quite extinct in England, and we are glad to find that they can't impose upon the public at large.

THE DRUM THAT CAN'T BE BEATEN.-The Storm-Drum.