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MRS. BROWN GOES TO AN EVENING PARTY.

"WE did ought to go, Browy, in my opinion," says I. "Oh, bother!" says he, "I ain't a-goin' to make a fool of myself at my time of life.' "Well," I says, "it's not makin' a fool of nobody for to be perlite," and with a printed note too as looked beautiful, a-requestin' of the pleasure of our company with quadrilles in the corner. He busts out a-laughin', a-sayin' as he should like for to see me a quadrilling in a corner. So I says, "There's no occasion for no rudeness, MR. BROWN, as have danced often in my time and with your betters, as was young MASTER WATTS, where I lived first, as would often get me for to practise the Spanish dance with him in a round jacket and broad collar, with his hair long and white silk stockings and pumps through its bein' Twelfth Night, as they drawed king and queen beautiful with a cake like the driven snow.' Says BROWN, "If you'll promise for to dance I'll go." I "Go on with your rubbish." says, "Well," he says, "I means it, for," he says, "there must be someone on hand for to dig you out of the rubbish, for you'll bring the place about their ears as sure as ever they lets do it."

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I says, "MR. BROWN, redicules ain't no argyments; but," I says, "dance or no dance, I goes to this party." He only says "All right," and smokes away like a burnin' furnace.

The next mornin' I gets Miss LESTER, as lives nearly opposite, and is a friendly gal, for to answer the note very genteel and say as we excepted the invitation, "For," she says, "you can say as MR. BROWN have a bad cold, or somethin' like that, when you goes in without him," as surprised me through her bein' of a serious turn.

I've got a lovely gownd as is a satin turk a deep crimson, as belonged to a lady as wore it when she dined at the Lord Mayor's with QUEEN VICTORIA first a-comin' to the throne. A noble gownd it is, as I cleaned from top to bottom with my own hands with a little sperrits and flannel. It fitted me like wax only a little tight in the armholes, as Miss LESTER said didn't signify, as I needn't lift my

arms up.

I got a very nice blue crape turban, with silver spangles, as sets the face off, and with my new hair, as was made for me in the City, I think as I had everything nice.

I wore a handsome scarf over my shoulders, as was a bright orange, and with white gloves and a fan, I do assure you any one might have been proud to have took me out.

When I was dressed BROWN I know'd would be full of his jeers, so I didn't go down to him, through not a-wishin' to be baccy-smoked as I told him over the bannisters. As to our SARAH, that gal couldn't take her eyes off me, a-sayin' as I looked for all the world like waxwork as she seed at the West-end, where all the Royal families is in

a Chamber of Horrors.

It was a pourin' wet night, but I would not have a cab through it only bein' three doors off, and MISS LESTER a-pinnin' me up all round so as not to be splashed, with a large cloak throwed over me and a shawl over my head and SARAH holding the umbrella.

Whatever we pay pavin' rates for I can't make out, it's downright disgraceful the way as they've left them flagstones in our street, that loose as I stepped on one, and up it goes with a flop and sends a large puddle as was under it all up my stockin's, and regl'ar deluged my overshoes.

Goin' up them steps to MRS. BUTLER'S door was dreadful, for my gownd hung down and come in contract with the wet stones and

dabbed me dreadful.

I was forced for to send SARAH back for clean stockings, and had to have my shoes dried in the kitchen afore I could go into the room where they was all a-sittin' round the walls a-takin' of tea. I certainly did take a cup for the look of the thing, as were only too warm and I should say half-a-crown the pound. There was thin bread and butter as I couldn't eat through the butter bein' what I calls reg'lar cartgrease, and as to the tea-cake it was cold and broke to bits, with a sweet taste as made that rank butter taste worse than ever.

MRS. BUTLER is a weazel-figgered woman, as wears no cap, with grey hairs and not much on it.)

As to her daughter 'LIZA ANN, she's a fright all over, with her hair in a crop and a white frock, as had been wsshed with a deal too much blue bag for me, and wasn't never made for her in my opinion.

As to old BUTLER, nobody seemed to mind him, as was a simple sort of party, as I see myself a-cribbin' of the cakes and drinkin' of the negus on the sly.

If he could drink it I couldn't, as had been made with cream o' tartar I could swear, and as to wine, why, it's my opinion as they forgot to put it in.

Well, there were a deal of music, as was no doubt very fine for them as understands it, and one young gent as had a lovely shirt front, though

only Scotch cambric, with his hair parted down the middle and a flower in his coat, as they'd said he'd give ninepence for alone. He certainly sung very nice, though it's my opinion as his boots was torments to him, bein' patent leather stitched with yellar thread as you could see.

Law, the way as them gals went on over that young fellow was downright barefaced. At last 'LIZA BUTLER got quite put out, and called Miss SHELLINS a spiteful thing to her face, as was a-settin' all of a crash, and knocked my negus out of my hand through my down to play on the piano when the music-stool give way with her arms bein' that pinioned as I couldn't save it. I'm sure when Miss her ma played the music to, it was reg'lar laughture and nothin' SHELLINS come to play it was nothin' partikler, and as to her song as

more.

There was a hand at cards, as I didn't join in, through cribbage bein' all as I knows, but MRS. SHELLINS she set down to whist, and didn't know no more than I do, and that aggravated a lady as were her pardner, as caused her for to tell her to her face as she didn't play no better at cards than she did on the pianer.

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There was a pretty filliloo, I can tell you, as broke up the cards, as was'nt sorry, for really I was beginnin' to feel the want of my supper, as half-past eight is my hour, and now a quarter to ten. Law bless you, I don't think as people as gives parties thinks about comfort, for I'm sure there weren't no comfort there.

I set a-noddin' in a corner, feelin' ready for to drop, and my new hair kep a gettin' loose in single hairs across my face, a-makin' my nose itch that violent as I could'nt get my hand near for rest. Well, of a sudden I give a sneeze that violent, and heard a bang.

I know'd it was my gownd give way, and so it did, and simultanous like, at each arm-hole. I did'nt take no notice, thro' a-knowin' as my scarf were pinn'd down, and I wasn't sorry, as the gownd had give way as enabled me to breathe more free, and to get my 'ankercher up to my face.

Well, supper came at last, as was sandwiches, and cakes, and jelly, with wine and water. You might have knocked me down with a feather. Call that supper, as wasn't more than toothfuls. There was BUTLER said were for the gentlemen. cold roast beef, bread and cheese, and beer, on the sideboard, as MRS.

I'd a give anythin' for a slice of that beef and a good pull at the beer, but law bless you, I was reglar hemmed in, and didn't like for to ask for none, as I could not have eat it comfortable on my lap. As to them sandwiches, they wasn't human, tho' MRS. BUTLER did keep but this one wasn't cured at all, and looked that measly as wasn't fit to a sayin' as she cured her own 'ams, as she might have done others, eat, and in my opinion was cured from the cookshop at the corner. I had the presence of mind for to ask for a glass of beer, for drink that Cape wine I can't.

I might have got on pretty well, pr'aps, if it hadn't been as a bit of somethin' in the sandwich got down the wrong way, and made me cough that violent as I couldn't a bear myself. I felt half choked, and jumps up for hair to get my breath.

I sets down agin barely recoverin', when old BUTLER makes a rush across the room at the tongs, as was close to me, ketches 'em up, seizes hold of my turban, pulls it off, with my hair, and throws it all in flames into the grate.

I thought I would have died with my bald head afore all the comIf I hadn't been and set light pany, as I couldn't get my scarf over. to my turban through a-shovin' it agin a candle over the mantelpiece.

No doubt I might have been burnt serious but for BUTLER, only I think he might as well have tried somethin' else, not as water was any good, for I'm sure that young gentleman in the shirt front deluged me with a jugful, as made me savage through the danger bein' over.

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I was only too glad for to get home anyhow. BROWN was a-bed when I got home, so I didn't say nothin' to him; but when I looked my things all spoilt I says to myself" "No more parties for me; but I didn't know the wust till the next day, when our SARAH told me as after I was gone they got a dancin', and Brown's words came true, for if the ceilin' didn't give way over their heads and under their feet, and the neighbours come in for to stop it, or they'd have had the row all down. So, you see, it was lucky as I did ketch light, or I might have ended like a earthquake, as swallows everythin' up, as the sayin' is,

FACTS FOR THE CURIOUS.

PODOPHYLLINE is good for the liver, but the dyer uses cochineal. Every bear should be taught to dance, for what is the use of Bruin without hops?

SARDINLY.

We are pestered with enquiries why it is that Italian troops have improved so rapidly of late. Once for all, the reason is, because they are so fond of their Victory Manual.

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THE HOSPITAL FOR SICK CHILDREN. YEARS ago-let a jester beg permission, for a moment, to be serious at Christmas time-years ago, I remember how, being then a child, I was dangerously ill. The memory of pain, no matter how acute, soon passes; that of pleasure lives longer. I can hardly recall the suffering; but I recollect, as though it had all happened a week ago, how, one day, the darkened room grew lighter; how the vague forms that had been hovering round my bed, suddenly took distinct shapes; how the voices that had been sounding indistinctly in my ears were again known; how the sense of some dim, past trouble seemed still to haunt and weaken me, so that, half afraid I was dreaming and should wake, I turned my face to the wall and closed my eyes. But it was not a dream, after all; the same shapes, the same voices, met me in the morning; as they will meet me again, I believe, when a longer slumber is over! Then came the great tranquil pleasure of recovery; there was a sense that it was always Sunday; that there were no troublesome lessons to perplex one, no boyish tyrants to face and resist; nothing to do but to rest, rest, rest, while the old dear story-books were read, and the summer light came in through the jessamine; and the nurse-mother already began to talk of the time when her boy should be taken for a walk by the sea. For the sea was at hand, and the great sound of it filled the room at night, whenever the winds made wild work on the bar.

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Yes, it is not so hard, after all, to suffer illness in a comfortable house, with a sufficiency of relations, doctors, toys, jelly, wine, arrowroot, beef-tea.

When the old child-life by the sea was only a memory -dimmer to me then, in my first fights with the world, than it is this Christmas I knew London, at late hours, tolerably well. City-missionaries, viveurs, policemen, journalists, and medical students-these are the people who see the realities of London; and the sight is not pleasant. Little boys, three together, coiled and curled into a strange ragged cluster on a bench in the Park, when the coldest wind that blows in all the twenty-four hours of the day stirs restlessly in the branches, and ruffles the surface of the water, or stretched out, where you hardly notice them as you pass-upon the cold white doorsteps, shadowed by an archway-these are not pretty spectacles to behold. I can see them now; can see a boy, roused from his sleep, staring at

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me with great, wide, bewildered eyes. Do you ask why, in those eyes there is a wild glitter; do you ask me why, on the thin, worn cheeks, for all their dirt, there is a red, red bud that will blossom in its time into a flower of death? Listen! Do you hear the cough that tears the little lungs-that sounds so infinitely pitiful as it breaks the great cold silence of the night? Do you hear the strange, hoarse, choked voice in which the youngster speaks to you? You are happy, perchance, if you do not know their meaning; happy, but wonderfully ignorant.

It is a hard thing for a child to suffer illness here and thus ! And so, by your leave, bearing in mind what the children of the poor have to suffer if we neglect them, we will give an hour this morning, before we make our purchases of Christmas presents, to a certain old house in Great Ormond-street, Bloomsbury.

It is a large, old house of QUEEN ANNE's time, with lofty rooms, with broad staircases and ample balustrades, with painted ceilings and deep cornices; and in this large, old house there are some seventy tiny beds with a little child in each. We are in the Hospital for Sick Children.

A painful sight, you think? Yes, if you are not used to sorrow; but a cheerful and beautiful sight if you have seen what sorrow is when it is left to itself, and when you now see around you, on every side, suffering that in every case is relieved, that in many cases will soon be cured. There is an atmosphere, so to speak, of peace and quiet in the place; no forced, gloomy, unnatural silence; every now and then you may hear a pretty little peal of feeble, infantine laughter; but there is a great stillness, and serenity, and order.

Across most of the little cots runs a small platform, which the child itself can move, and on these platforms there are dolls and toysmarvellously different from the dear, quaint, absurd, old playthings of even twenty years ago, but watched with the same childish earnestness, wonder, delight. Just think for a moment where these children would be if they were not here, and you will see, I think, the full meaning, the full beauty of such an institution.

"Miserable," says the brave JEAN PAUL, the large-hearted Teuton, "miserable is the man for whom his own mother has not made all other mothers sacred!" Not miserable, indeed, but lacking one grand source of happiness, are those to whom little ones of their own have not made all other children dear.

As you go from room to room you cannot help taking certain of the

inmates into particular friendship and confidence. There is a noble boy, for instance, with his head closely shaven, but with a marvellously brave, bright, winning face, whom you cannot help loving at a glance, a sturdy, little fellow, who, saved from sickness, will be able as he grows up to hold his own in the world, you would say. Look, already he has his little circle of admirers, three or four toddling little things, well enough to walk about, who peep up in his face and arrange his toys for him, and are, obviously, to the full extent of their small capacity for service and their large capacity for love, his loving And here, too, pleasantly chirping and smiling, is a pretty little lady in a bright red jacket. At the end of the bed hangs a weight, part of a mechanical contrivance by which, in due time, her lameness will be cured. One likes to think of the little lady as she will be, strong and tall, dancing some future Christmas.

servants.

There are wee wan faces here and there which will hardly grow any brighter-pained, anxious, little eyes, for which the best that one can wish is that, with very little pain and to the music of a prayer, they may even close upon the world and its troubles, to open again where the air will be softer and all the pain will have passed away. But for one for whom a trained insight can only foresee that immediate future, there are twenty who, by GoD's blessing, may yet live happy English lives. Seventy in all :-it is but a poor fragment snatched from a great heap of misery. In Paris, as I read, there are the "Hôpital des Enfants Malades" and the "Hôpital St. Eugénie," which can give shelter to eleven hundred children; but those noble institutions receive endowments from the State. Our own hospital, here in Great Ormond-street, depends altogether upon the gifts of the charitable. It has had noble aid-none more noble than that of the great Artist, who, twenty years ago, made us laugh and cry with BOB CRATCHIT and TINY TIM, who yesterday made us laugh and cry with DOCTOR MARIGOLD. But to maintain and to extend it still further help is

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And now the jester's earnestness is over. Walk up, walk up, ladies and gentlemen, walk up, just a-going to begin. Here are puns so good you could hardly see 'em with LORD ROSSE's telescope; here are conundrums so mysterious you could hardly make 'em out if you were to go up to the top of the sky in a balloon and down to the bottom of the sea in a diving-bell; here you are, here you are, the whole FUN of the fair, just a-going to begin, and the charge for the entire performance the ridiculous sum of One Penny British sterling!

IN THE MATTER OF THE PUBLIC SERVICE.

BEING A LETTER TO A COLONIAL GOVERNOR.

MY DEAR SIR ADOLPHUS,-You are good enough to ask me for a little advice. You state that your position is one of extreme difficulty; that the population of Sugarcane Island is two hundred thousand, of whom a hundred and fifty thousand are negroes, forty-nine thousand mulattos, and one thousand whites; that considerable disaffection prevails; that a coloured gentleman, a member of the local Assembly, has accused you of stealing a piano, and has publicly expressed his desire to be "well rid of you;" that you have reason to suppose he is at the head of an extensive conspiracy; that seditious language is constantly used by the missionaries, whom you describe as illiterate and fanatical; that you live in daily apprehension of an outbreak; and that you are anxious to preserve HER MAJESTY's authority in the Island.

Pardon me, SIR ADOLPHUS, if I fail to see any real difficulty in your position.

It might indeed be embarrassing if the negro were ignorant and barbarous, savage and slothful; but you, who are on the spot, can surely give evidence that he is gentle, well educated, thoroughly civilised, and industrious almost to a fault. You must know, my dear SIR ADOLPHUS, that the neighbouring Island of Hayti, in which he has been allowed to have his own way, and freed from the thraldom of the brutal white, is an earthly Paradise, that life and property are there more secure than in any other district on the earth; that the Haytian annals are not stained by a single act of cruelty and violence; that the people are prosperous and contented; that civil war is unknown; and that the punishment of death has been abolished.

Having the example of Hayti before your eyes, I am surprised that you should feel any anxiety whatever with regard to the future of Sugarcane Island. The negro, my dear SIR ADOLPHUS, can do no wrong. I have excellent authority for the statement; that of Mr. CHAMEROVZOW, a Polish gentleman, who is good enough to reside in this country and to receive a salary from a philanthropic association; that of Mr. WHITE, member for Brighton, who, although he was formerly unfortunate in business, is a profound scholar, a deep thinker, a modest and accomplished gentleman; that of Mr. G. M. MURPHY, who is, I believe, a street-preacher in the New Cut, and who may be heard of at the Lambeth Baths; that of Mr. PERFITT, who preaches a new religion on very moderate terms; and that of MR. MASON JONES, a professional orator whose name will be remembered when that of DEMOSTHENES is forgotten.

You ask me what you should do if an insurrection were to break out, after all—if, for instance, thirty or forty white men should be massacred. Do? Nothing can be more simple.

In the first place, you should immediately disband the troops. Bayonets are the last resort of tyrants. In the second place, you should send away any of HER MAJESTY'S ships that may happen to be cruising near the island. I tremble to think of the consequences if an infuriated gang of British sailors should be let loose upon negroes who have only put a few whites to death and mutilated their bodies. In the third place, you should disarm the volunteers. If those murderous ruffians were to be surrounded by a justly indignant multitude of intelligent African labourers, and if they were, as they would deserve to be, pelted with brickbats and stones, I am convinced that the dastards would fire upon the inoffensive crowd.

Having thus proved that you had no intention of coercing an amiable and enlightened people, I would recommend you to invite their leader -who accused you of stealing a piano-to dinner at Government House. Between ourselves, I can hardly believe that you really purloined the musical instrument in question; but as the coloured gentleman is a personal friend of MR. CHAMEROVZOW, that good and gifted man, it would be rude to say that he is a liar.

Your next step should be to distribute tracts amongst the poor blacks, who will by this time have assembled in considerable numbers. All this being done, I should then recommend you to try the efficacy of moral force by proceeding in person, and unarmed, to their camp. But as a more matter of worldly wisdom, I should recommend you previously to make your will.

Bear these principles in mind, my dear SIR ADOLPHUS, act upon them, and you will earn the eternal gratitude of Exeter Hall, and of the Lambeth Baths-of MR. CHAMEROVZOW, and of MR. MURPHY. Tò be sure England will lose the island,-what of that?

Act otherwise; and I will tell you what will be your fate. You must remember that LORD PALMERSTON is dead, and that as your name is neither ELLIOTT nor GREY, you cannot rely for support upon LORD RUSSELL.

Public meetings will be held, a deputation, consisting of a China merchant, a Dissenting minister, a blind man, and a street preacher will wait upon the Premier; a commissioner will be sent out to Sugarcane Island; you will be superseded; you will be put upon your trial; and you will probably be disgraced.

The Times-that ribald journal, declares, speaking of the spirit shown by Exeter Hall:-"It is a spirit which, if permitted to have its way, would make the service of the CROWN intolerable to any man who is anxious for his good fame and honour." Very likely, but I should hope, my dear SI ADOLPHUS, that you are too sensible a man Faithfully yours, to care about such trifles.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
Он, give me of turkey, of goose, and of beef,
Washed down with the juice of the grape;
Oh, give me mince-pie, which of pies is the chief,
And plum-pudding rotund in its shape.
Of whatever there is on the table to eat,
Let me taste, as at Christmas we should;
Of soup, fish, flesh, fowl, and of entrée, and sweet,
Of whatever there is that is good.

I'm aware indigestion will make me its prey,
But why dash our enjoyment with sorrow-
Dash Dash it! I mean to be jolly to-day,
And call in my doctor to-morrow.

DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE.

FUN.

HOUSES are run up in a few weeks by landlords, and run down by tenants ever after.

A QUESTION FOR RIFLEMEN.

WHEN a star shoots, how many points does it make ?

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London: Printed by JUDD & GLASS, Phoenix Works, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons, and Published (for the Proprietors) by THOMAS BAKER,

at 80, Fleet-street, E.C.-December 23, 1855.

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