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There is just ass slight change in existence,

Which would certainly startle mankind,
And, I fear, meet a world of resistance,

Before it acceptance could find;
Yet, really, with life our relations

Would be from perplexity freed,
If people, on certain occasions,

Would take but the will for the deed!

Par exemplc: when requested for payment

By Snip, a most excellent man,
For various items of raiment—

I reply, I will pay when I can:
But my answer appears not to please him,

For he still will insist on his need;
From what trouble my words would release him,

If he took but the will for the deed!

Quite lately, some friends in the city,

On business I need not now state,
A meeting arranged—'twas a pity—

To my grief, I was ten minutes late!
Frowns mot me and dissatisfaction,

When excuses I ventured to plead—
'Twould have spared them a deal of distraction

Had they taken the will for the deed!

I long to perform the glad labour

Of him who succeeds when he tries—
I should like to do good to my neighbour—

I fain would be wealthy and wise.
It would vastly befriend one's ambition—

The point, doubtless, all will concede—
If the world would accept this condition,

And take but the will for the deed!

DE HERETICO COMBTJREXDO. A Correspondent, referring to a paragraph in on columns a week or so back, suggests that the £200 a year possessed by certain City parishes to defray the expense it faggots to burn heretics, should be applied to the purchas-' of coals, wherewith to burn out that awh-heretic " Cold," who persecutes the poor until he shakes their belief is Providence even. This would be adding fuel in s *ty that would remove a burning shame—the condition of the poor in this wealthy city.


Being A Letter To A Member Op The Society Op Friends.

My Dear Jabez,—You are an excellent fellow. You are always ready to devote a large proportion of the Mammon of Unrighteousness that you have acquired by judicious dealings in the flour trade, to philanthropic purposes. You are a constant subscriber to the funds for providing the inhabitants of Contral Africa with respirators, the natives of Greenland with penny ices, and the aborigines of the Nicobar Islands with Tidman's sea-salt, the whole conducted on extremely Evangelical principles. You have pretty little societies for promoting universal peace, and for abolishing slavery. They never do any practical good; tho most efficient emancipationist being General Grant, and the only means of abolishing slavery, tear. But still they are eminently rcspcctablo; and if they do no good to any one else, they enable you to pay a salary to a person of whom you are remarkably fond, I really don't know why—Mr. Chamehovzow.

But, my dear Jabez, you have your littlo faults, and one of them is a passionate preference for negroes over whites. The African is, I am informed, a man and a brother; I am not particularly proud of the relationship myself, but, physiologically, I dare say you are right. To shoot my black connexion, to hang him or to flog him, is a disagreeable task, but it is one from which I should not shrink if he attempted to murder myself, and Mrs. Fun, and our charming babes. In such a cause, Sir, I would even hang Mr. Chamrkovzow or yourself.

Another little peccadillo of yours, my dear Jabez, is a tendonoy to misrepresent the actions and to malign the motivos of English gentlemen. Flour-dealing, banking, bill-discounting, are excellent occupations in their way, but they are not positivo proofs of infallibility. I submit that even a Quaker is liablo to err. And I submit, also, that he probably does err when he accuses a gentleman of being a coward and a butcher.

I think, Jabez, that in all the chronicles of missionary heroism—

and really noble chronicles many of them are—you will find nothim: grander than the conduct of a gentleman named Eyre, who strur-'lfc for a thousand miles through the most frightful desert on the earth, with Murder dogging his footsteps, and who never lost heart or hop* but prayed fervently in the wilderness to the One who could aid; new lost faith in Him, never doubted His power or infinite loving-kindnefc Also, I think, that if you will take the trouble to read for yourself th? whole story of that man's life—you can get it at a bookstall for ten or twenty shillings—you will find that no one ever more fully compre- I hended or more nobly performed the duties of civilised man towardi black savages. I have read that book, sir, with feelings—strangely mingled, you will say—of reverence and rage; of reverence for the man's pure heroic gentle nature; of rage at the treatment he receives from you, sir, and your friends.

Bage, Jabez, is the word; I don't say that it is not mixedwitha little contempt; but for the moment tho sensation is mainly tlui -' fiery wrath at your infamous unfairness.

I don't discuss politics in these columns, and I have my own opinion as to the wisdom of some of Governor Eyrb's proceedings, bull give you a sample of the stuff that makes me so indignant

I quote from your favourite paper, the one that published ie* famous " Lying List" of Confederate Bondholders—the Mtnmf and I invite you to mark tho animus of the words:

"Governor Eyre may have been a brave explorer; » Kxu Piiam. m map have been at one time remarkable for his humanity; to teat tter*> Bjj have really had an insurrection to deal with; so assuredly had Aiti, and ^■•'j^* and Castlereagh, and Hepcnstal, the famous 1 walking gallows' of the , rebellion."

And so forth. Are you not ashamed of that, my Jabez' _

If not, how do you like this t "It is not clearly proveitonJtiit t_s Editor of tho Star was not the real murderer of Mr. Iw* , excuses that have been hitherto put forth Beem to us sin^1"'.'' The editor of the Star may have been an eloquent jour'list> * I Marat. Ho may have professed philanthropic principles; so did Robespibrre. Ho may never have travelled on the North London Railway; neither did Thurtell, Grbbnacbb, Cartouche, nor Mrs. Manning."Fun.


Sir,—Here is a pretty song. It is supposed to be sung by a timid and retiring village maiden to a noble tenor whom she secretly adores. She wishes to let him know that sho loves him, but yot she will not overstep the bounds of maidenly reserve. How does she manage this? gee •

Oh Earl Augustus Wilkinson, Tra, la, la!
The blush of bashf ulnoss upon Tra, la, la!

My maiden brow. Tra, la!
Forbids that I should e'er reveal, Tra, la, la!
The passion that for thee I feel, Tra, la, la!
Or tell thee how

I do adore thee!
Yes, adore thee!

Tra, la, la, la, la, la, la!

But if you were a gentle girl, Tra, la, la!
A nd I became a belted earl. Tra, la, la!

On some fine day, Tra, la!
The bashful blush upon my face, Tra, la, la!
Would be absurdly out of place, Tra, la, la!

And I should say,
I do adore thee!

Yes, adore thee!'
Tra, la, la, la, la, la, la!

Pretty and ingenious, isn't it? Print it. Yours,

R Dittt.


We have been far from easy about Ireland of late—not because of Fenianism, but because wo feared that the Rinderpest might possibly have made its way thither to destroy the aboriginal breed of cattle. The programme of a concert at Enniskillon has been sent us which quite allays our fears. It contains a noble specimen of the indigenous bull.

"The entire proceeds will be devoted towards defraying the expenses necessary for getting a Poor Blind Girl admitted into an asylum; and the surplus (if any) will be given to the Enniskillen Fuel Fund."

There is something peculiarly Irish in the modesty which, after devoting the entire proceeds to one charitable purpose intends giving the surplus," if any," for another benevolent object. What a generous people it is! It will give away more than it possesses, from sheer kindness of heart.



Tub practice of throwing an old shoe after a newly-marriod couple when starting on their honeymoon, is intended as a compliment to the bridegroom who has been a successful su(i)tor.

Intoxication is viewed as cruelty by the Divorce Act, because a drunken man is sure to beat his wif o, being given to liquor.

Barnum Bunkum.

Barnum, in a recent temperance address, said that he would give more for a drunkard who succeeded in business, as a public curiosity, than for anything he ever exhibited. This is rather ungrateful of Barnum, for every drunkard is a fool, and it is on fools that the talented lecturer exists.

FINNY AND FUNNY. Can any one indicate the point of tho following joke, clips from a contemporary P—

11 Fiknyaxs.—There is a county in Yorkshire which can boast of real Finnyan inmates of a clerical character, as the rector is named Duck, the curate Drake, and the schoolmaster Swan."

As neither Duck, Drake, nor Swan possesses fins, it is not easy to discover what is intended. The creatures alluded to are web-footed, as the author of tho paragraph, being himself a goose, should have known.

A riiJE-ADAMITE. Our own charity boy says that Bishop Colenso is right, and Adam was not the first man, because though he is mentioned at the beginning of Genesis, the "1st Chap." comes before him.


The British public is indebted to Messrs. Cassell, Petter and Galpin for an introduction to works of real genius in the drawings of Gustave Dore, for they were among the first to make his illustrations popular in England. One of his finest works, Dante's Inferno, is now published, with Carr's excellent translation—a capital text if not a highly poetical one. Of tho playful fancy, the grotesque imagination, and tho grand eye for effect, evinced in these drawings, it is needless to speak. Wo might select a fow for special commondation, but the whole series is so even in merit that we should probably select only personal favourites, and our readers might fairly make a totally different choice. The volumo is a splendid one, in every respect, paper and print being worthy of the illustrations.

Mr. Hotten publishes the Hatchet-Throwers, and he and Mr. Wade, whose name is a guarantee for the best of typography, have done their utmost. But tho title might fairly have been selected as a delicate allusion to the style of engraving that a woodcutter, who, with becoming remorse, has not revealed his name, bestowed on the spirited drawings of M.grisbt. All tho " go " has been hacked out of them, and the character lost—even tho correctness of anatomy which distinguishes M. Griset's pictures, is occasionally destroyed. Still it is impossible quite to extinguish genius, and the artist's humour and power are discernible by thoso who know his style. Mr. Greenwood tells the stories with a raciness and quiet fun that are really refreshing. It is difficult to say which of tho stories is the best, so we will leave it to our readers to choose for themselves, taking it, for granted, that when we seriously recommend a book, it is a well ascertained fact that it is good.

An apparently "big lot for the money" is a volume of Pictures of Society; but considering that it is a reprint from London Society, and therefore not an inexpensive book to produce, the public does not get as much as it should do for its guinea. And if its production was inexpensive, its editing must have cost nothing; for a selection of cuts on the principle of the old game of "Fright," and an arrangement no more complicated than the shaking-up of them in a hat appears to be all that has been done in that way; if we may except an ignorant altering of titles, most unfair to the publishers, as leading the public to suppose they are re-ticketing old goods to make them look like new, and most unfair to authors, whose care is stultified by the incompetence of the person acting as editor. We trust that another year a similar volume may be produced under proper supervision; for, after this haphazard selection, there are still many cuts and many articles in London Society that we should be glad to see reproduced.

insfoers tff CffTOspnlreirrj.

W. H., Wellington Road.—Pardoned in consideration of punishment. You wanted an autograph probably—and you got it. Anothor time don't interfere in matters you don't understand.

Ino.You know— what we required, see last number. Epitaphs have been done to death.

A Reader.—We have seen the letter you refer to, but cannot waste your reader's time and our own in advertising every small tragedian who doesn't like to hear the truth. It would bo too cruel to ask our readers to go and judge for themselves of the keyind of pronunciation.

P. F. K., Birmingham--- To perfume your notepaper till it smells like a Musk-ovite will not insure its Rushin' into print. We have received, and declined, the contributions you scent.

W. C, Brompton.—We cannot do you "Brown,'\he is not fresh enough.

W., Sandgate.—We will, as you request, insert the lines in Fun "next weak —not until then.

W. C, King's Cross.—We regret that we can givo your linos " On Chili" only a cold reception.

W., Wisbeach.—We are sorry to have to put your "Inflamed Nose" out of joint, but we don't see the point of it. We wood if we could.

R. C, Everton, is a living example of "Cut and Comb again "—we wish he wasn't.

D, R., Manchester.—You send us an M.S. for our "magazine "—we should have to be as big as all tho magazines to contain as many oils as go to make up "the Lamentable Lamentation of the Late Lamented L— L—." Besides it lacks one very necessary " 1"—the element of fun.

[Since the commencement of tho New Series one or two impudent attempts at imposture have been made by persons who write to claim remuneration for articles and drawings that have been contributed by our staff. A person at Woolwich was under the impression that he had written an article about the authorship of which tho editor could be in no doubt, having written it himself. Another person in Manchester sent in a modest bill for a drawing in the Almanack that he had no more to do with than Adam. We wish it to be understood that any future attempts of this sort will be exposed.]



There is a murmur in the Halls of Wilde. Far and wide had spread the rumour that the sorrows of Emily, of the fair hair, -would that day culminate in the Courts of Divorce. Loud aa tho rushing winds aro the words of scorn with which her lord, hrown Jones, is received as he stalks into the Halls of Wilde. Little heeds he, and in proud disdain he curls his upper lip until it hurts him. Twills he his long moustache. But a Bettlcd gloom is on his brow, and the ghosts of long-dead cruelties riso up before him, and shriek their accusations into his ears.

What form is this that stalks, with solemn pace, unto the up-raised judgment seat f It is the form of Wilde, once Baron of the Exchequer, now Judge of tho Halls of Divorce Eagle-like is tho eyo of Wilde: Ordinary is his judgeship.

Loud rings tho voice of the Associate as he calls "Jones against Jones'." Prominent is his nose, and remarkable are his spectacles As the eye of brown Jones meets that of Emily, it quails audibly.

Spinkb, of tho big whiskors, is for the petitioner. Dreadful are tho cruelties of which she complains. Judicial is tho separation she seeks! Twistwam, son of Twistwam, is for the respondent,—his plea denial.

"Son of Twistwam!" said Splnxs, of tho big whiskers, "I will raise tho song of bards, and the sorrows of Emily, of the fair hair, shall be my theme! "Go it, thon," said Twistwam, tho son of Twistwam. Rises Spinks among the circle of the chiefs. Wilde, of the Ordinary Judgeship, dips his pen in ink, and opens his note-book.

"Son of Wilde," said Spinks, of the big whiskers, "may it please you! I will sing unto you the sorrows of tho yellow-haired Emily. Her father dwelt in tho caves of Oithona, and he hunted the deer in the tree-loss forests of Lochlin. O'er the hills of Morven sped he after tho nimblo Royal, and tho valleys of Cuchullin resounded with the loud crack of his rifle. In othor words, ho had shootings in the West of Scotland."

"Then why not say so at onco?" observed Wilde, the Baron.

"To her father and to her camo one day brown Jones. He was unmatched in the chase, and he could strike the bounding deer, even from an adjoining county. He saw Emily, of the fair hair, he loved her, and he carried her to the land of Luban, where the eastern extremity of the rain-bow dips into tho mists of Tura!"

"Where ?" said the Judge Ordinary.

"Aberdeen," said Spinks.

"Put in the marriage certificate," said Wilde, tho Baron.

"Hand it in," said SriNKS, of the big whiskers, to the usher, suppressor of applause. "Six times had the sun—I should say the moon —made its revolution about the stars—that is the earth, ere brown Jones raised the song of war. But when he did raise it, he made tip for lost time. Thrashed was Emily", of tho yellow hair. Dreadful were her screams. Unfit for publication were the oaths of brown Jones. Her people came over to her. 'Why do tears dim the blue eyes of Emily, of tho fair hair I-' aBkod they. But brown Junes answered not; and in gloomy silence held he himself apart. Insufficient was the housekeeping money. Stand it no longer could Emily, of tho fair hair, so she filed her petition. Let Emily' be called!

Who is this that weeps into tho smallest of cambric pocket-handkerchiefs? It is Emily, of the fair hair!

Sad is her tale, terrible aro the enormities of which she complains! Crushed aro bonnets she produces as evideneo of her lord's reproof! Loud are the shouts of indignation that arise from tho crowded court. Terrible is the indignation of the usher at that impropriety.

AVho is it that rises among the circle of the chiefs P It is Twistwam, son of Twistwam, of tho clouded brow. But ho lias no case. And the jury tell him so! For the Petitioner is the Verdict. Judicial is the separation granted. Against the Respondent are the costs reckoned!

And the ghosts of long-dead cruelties shriek, for the third time, into the ears of brown Jones, as the fair-haired Emily smiles through the tears of her woo.

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: Printed by JUDD & GLASS, PhojnU Works", St. Andrew. Hill. Doctors' Common., and Published (for the Proprietors^ bv TIIOMAS BAH

at 80, Flect-sircet, E.C.—December 16, 1855.'



HEN you lovo—as all men will—

Sing the theme of j-our devotion,
Sue—-and Tow—and worship still—

Overflow with deep emotion,
Bow to Cupid's sweet decrees,

Lightly wear the happy fetter,
Bend the knee and plead! But, please,
Do not write your love a letter!

Ah! most tempting it may be:

Ink flows free—and pens will write,
And your passion fain you'd see

Plainly mapped in black and white.
Yet refrain from shedding ink,

If you can:—'tis wiser—better.
Ere you pen a sentonce, think!
Do not writo your lovo a letter.

Hearts may cool, and views may change—

Other scenes may seem inviting,
But a heart can't safely range
If committed 'tis to writing.
What you've written is a writ,

Holds you closely as a debtor.
Will she sparo you? Not a bit!
Do not write your love a letter!

Think of Breach of Promise cause,

Think of barristers provoking
Leading you to slips and flaws.

Turning all your love to joking.
If you've written aught, they'll be

Safe to find it as a setter—
Then you'll wish you'd hearkened me—
Do not write your love a letter!

Oh, thoso letters read in Court!

How the tender things seem stupid!
How deep feeling seems but sport!

How young Mohus trips up Cupid!
Take my warning then—or soon,

O'er your folly you'll be frctter,
Saying, " Why, poor, foolish spoon,
Did I write my love a letter t"


Fink round faces are now to be seen in tho boxes, pits, and amphitheatres of our playhouses. Heavy men, with ruddy cheeks and feet of terrible proportions inquire their "road" in the lobbies, and look upon the boxkeepers as incarnate Bradshaw's Guides. It is the cattle-show week, and the influence of the cattle-showers is strong upon the theatres. The other night wo watched a gentleman with pepper and salt hair and whiskers, a fiery complexion, and tremenduous boots, endeavouring to make out the plot of Henry Dunbar, or the Outeasts—the new Olympic drama. We wonder what sort of an account he would give of it to Mas. Beeves when he returns to Oatlands-cumSlopperton or Grumcote-le-Clay.

The account we give of Henry Dunbar is that it is very good in some parts and very bad in others:—that wo are of opinion that if tho audience were let a little into the secret of the relationship of the person known as Henry Dunbar and Margaret Wentworth, the interest would be heightened rather than diminished, and the situations at tho end of the third act "moult no feather;" that a more dramatic and cxcellently-contrivod scene than the "Bank parlour" scene, which concludes the second act, has not been listened to for a long time, and that a groator mistake than to put the heroine into a blowsy wig, tho dress of a servant-wench, and to stick a dust-pan and hearthbroom in her hand is not likely to be committed for some years to come. The wholo interest of the piece—our sympathy with the trials of tho heroine—our pity for tho crimes and tho remorse of her guilty lather, are all annihilated by this piece of tawdry, used-up, transpontine, old-fashioned, melodramatic, stage-trick. It is an unworthy artifice to extort applause, to excite surprise, and create a " sensation," and a bad blot upon an otherwise excellent drama, a drama which enjoys the advantage of being well acted. Ma. Nbtillh has never been seen to such advantage as at present, and as for Miss Kvtb Tkrbv— she is a weakness in which it is honourable for any dramatic critic to indulge in polysyllables. The high approval of Fun must also be awardod to Messes. Montaou and Soutar, and to Miss Farren, and

Miss Ellen Leigh, who, on Saturday, tho 9th, made her debut at the little Wych Street Theatre. H. F. M. (His Facetious Majesty) would like to decorate tho brows or breast of Mb, Vincent, but in justice to the public—and to Mb. Vincent himself—he cannot. H. F. M. hopes that this mild reprimand may awake that gentleman to a sense of character and humour.

The Editor of Fun feels that it is time to put an ond to a controversy which is being craftily twisted into an advertisement of a bad piece. But he feels it duo to tho public to state that the original report of Mb, Vinino's conduct, or misconduct, on tho first night of Never Too Late to Mend was written by a gentleman who was present, and whose unbiassed account the Editor of Fun believes in preference to that of the manager, who lost his head on tho occasion so completely that ho does not appear to havo since recovered it.

The blunders into which Mr. Vinino fell in an attempt at smart writing have been pointed out in a manner intelligible to any ono who has had the education of a charity boy. If a further proof of his unfitness to bo trusted with tho English language be needed, it is to bo found in the following sentence from his last advertisement:—

"In the first instance you published in your columns what was not true, which was bad composition on your part, and is plain English on mine."

What Mr. Vinino modestly describes as "tho meanest capacity" might have seen that this admits that what is untrue, although bad composition for Fun, is what Mb. Vinino considers plain English.

Too much importance has been given, perhaps, to Mr. VrNLNO by noticing him and his effusions, but this journal in spite of Mb. Vinino's surprise at tho fact, cannot consent to consider falso and impertinent statements in the light of a joke.

Fun has now done its duty. It has vindicated its position to its readers. It is not its duty—thank goodness—to attempt to teach Mb. Vinino a regard for fact, for English, and for propriety.

Shortly Will Be Pboduced.An Essay on Greek Pronunciation: by Vasgo Dioamma (meybbbebr and Co.)

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By The Satjnterer Dt Society.

A"ERYONE is, I hope, thoroughly awake now to the fact that Lord Palmbrbton is not premier of England. Had he been at the head of affairs Sir Henry Storks would not havo been blown from Malta to Jamaica by the breath of popular clamour. Lord Russell will suffer for this cowardico, and serve him right! As for the babblers of Exeter Hall, and those worthy but weak gentlemen who havo lent themselves to the unmanly yell of the un-English donkeys, I am disgusted with them. But I am not surprised at the line thoy take. Men who stab a gallant servant of tho orown in the back and insult his defenceless sister, cannot of course see any great crimo in the murders *ommitted by their pet negro. It is quite a part of their inconsistency that they should hunger to make England commit the very fault of which they accuso Governor Eyre—hang a man before his trial!

Everybody"s Business, long announced and largely postered, is a guide to English composition. I hope its author has sent a copy to the Princess's Theatre.

Barnum on Humbugs has just appeared. I wonder tho publishor, Mr. Hotten, did not alter P. T. B's Latin quotation, Omne ignotum pro magnifico, into a more fitting line, Quorum pars magna fui. It is an amusing book, and gives the history of a good many swindles, among others that of the Davenports, who I see are back again and have been doing their tricks at considerably reduced prices. It is really distressing to see two clever prettidigitateurs who might be realising good incomes, brought to the verge of a penny booth, because in a weak moment they tried to pass off hanky-panky as something supernatural. Their impudenco is astonishing. After the expose in Prance one would have supposed that they would bo anxious to sneak home to America; porhaps, however, thoy havo not made enough by their speculation, in which ease I trust English charity will step in and provide their active fingers with some congenial, if not "dy lucrative employment, liko the picking of oakum.

! on the subject of the spiritualist swindle, I may quoto some passages from a letter addressed by Lord Dundreary to the Glasgow Citizen. It appears that his lordship has been accused by that most unveracious periodical, The Spiritual Magazine, of having been a professional paid medium. In reply his lordship states that twelve gentlemen in New York determined to put tho phenomena of "spiritualism" to the test.

11 We were quite ready for either result ■ to believe it, if it were true, to reject it, if found false; and in the latter ease I, at least, resolved in due time to exposo it. For more than two years we had weekly meetings. At these, by practice, we had succeeded in producing not only all the wonderful ' manifestations' of the professional 1 media,' but other effects still more Btartling. We simply tried to reproduce the appearances and the results which we had heard of, and read of, and seen—and we succeeded. Pushing our practice and experiments further, we attained the capacity to execute feats much more remarkable than those presented at any of the 'spiritual seances' An American gentleman and myself took the part of the * media the rest of the company assisted; and I do not hesitate to say that we outdid anything ever attempted or accomplished by Home or the Davenports, or any of the other more notorious spiritual exhibitors.

11 Not the least of our discoveries was that the whole thino was a myth. We did all that the spiritualists did, and more, but we were our own 1 agents,' and had no need of recourse to supernatural influences, had we had the power to command them. We commenced our stance* in a spirit of legitimate investigation; we continued them for the sake of the amusement they gave ourselves and our friends. We became famous in a small way. We had to start an engagement book, and to make appointments. People came from all parts of America, and waited for their turn. We got into a larger line of business than any of the professional exhibitors, and wo were extensively patronized. The only difference was, we didn't charge any thing. We took no money, directly or indirectly. Our entertainment being free, was liberally supported."

I have not space to quoto tho various feats porfonnedby tho " magic

circle"—feats witnessed by professional and paid mediums, who themselves declared them done by the circle's suporior power over "tho spirits." With ono more extract I must reluctantly quit the subject.

"The object of the writer in the Spiritual Maoazine has been to represent me as having exhibited 'spiritual manifestations' in America, and having exposed them here. I have stated, I hope clearly, that I did produce all the 'manifestations' and did exhibit them, but they were not( spiritual,' and I did not exhibit them in public nor for money. I therefore consider myself free from the imputations of having obtained money under false pretences, encouraged idle superstitions, or perpetrated blasphemous burlesques of sacred things. I look upon every spiritualist as either an impostor or an idiot. I regard every spiritual exhibitor who makes money by his exhibitions as a swindler. The things that these people do are not done by spiritual or supernatural means; 1 know that; I have proved it. I have done all that they can do, and more. The history of ' spiritualism' in this country and in America is, on the one hand, a chronicle of imbecility, cowardly terror of the supernatural, wilful self-delusion, and irreligion; and on the other of fraud, impudent chicanery, and blasphemous indecency."

This is outspoken and bold, and all men of sense will be indebted to Mr. Sothern for coming forward and telling his experience on this subject. Ho must know tho Spiritualists well enough to be aware of tho sorts of attacks he will havo to expect in return for this exposure of the swindle. But it will be some comfort to him to have earned tho gratitude and esteem of those who like himself condemn "blasphemous burlesques of sacfed things." I have quoted largely from the letter because it has not found its way to the London papers, and deserves to be read.

Another county magistrate has beon distinguishing himself. A Ripon paper tell a story of despotic brutality which, if true, ought to deprive the Thirsk sessions of its chairman. Every act of thi3 sort hastens on the time when the Great Unpaid shall be for over removed from the bench which they have too long and too often disgraced.


Alone in my balcony sitting,

I look on the street,
With faces unceasingly flitting,

And noises of feet:
Strange faces that tell stranger stories,

Of pain and despair,
Some tearworn for manhood's lost glories:

And some blithe and fair.

A matron stout, comely, and stately,

Sweeps onward in silk,
Her grandem- bewildering greatly

Yon boy with the milk:
Her husband, their children before him,

Smiles proud on the band,
He'll count e'er an hour has passed o'er him

The trumps in his hand.

An organ-man bowing and smiling,

Begs pence with a glance,
The street-urchins there ho's boguiling,

To some frantic dance:
He'll murmur an " Italiano,"

While hard at his work,
In accents ne'er heard by Albano—

Say rather from Cork.

A maiden trips by me demurely,

With neatest of feet,
Some lover awaiting her surely

With tender heart-beat:
Fond youth, when his playful caresses

On those locks fall light,
Ah! me, does ho know that those tresses,

Are ta'en off at night.

And then comes a peeler Blow stalking

With terrible tread,
That small boy's amusement much baulking

Who stands on his head:
Or some applewoman loud hailing,

Who'll whimper and cry;
Anon sneaking up to the railing,

For chance of cold pie!

And so like the visions in slumber,

Tho faces went on,
I wove as they passed without number,

Strange tales for each one:
Qucor thoughts, it were bootless to state 'cm,

'My fancy ran far,
I sighed "vanitas vanitatum "—

"There goes my cigar!"

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