MRS. BROWN ON THE POOR.

DON'T talk to me they didn't ought to have done it, as is a downright disgrace, that it is, the way as the poor is treated, and talk about Christians, why the Jews beats 'em hollow at it, as I've been over their hospital myself, though in course bein' rich as a Jew, as the sayin' is, they can afford the money; not as Christians hasn't to pay, for I'm sure them rates makes my blood boil that they do, always acomin' in, as I says the other day to the party as come round for to collect it, I says, "However is it as we don't buy the poor off, for I'm sure we gives 'em money enough. It's my opinion as they never gets one-tenth of it, and however should they when you sees the way as parties lives as has the fingerin' on it."

I'm sure them GREGORIES, as is one of the guardians, goes out of a Sunday that dressed out as nobody can't say where it comes from, and I says to BROWN, "There goes our rates and taxes; as said, "You'd better not let that red rag o' yourn run so free, or you'll hear about it."

But as I was a-sayin', them poor is treated wuss than Israelites; for I'd rather be a brick-burner myself than shut up in that workus, as is a prison all over for all their whitewash and scrubbin'. And the way they would make that poor old soul, MRS. CHALLIN, go in when she'd a-lived content on eighteenpence a-week, as had a stepson as paid her rent, as much as he could do, though not her own flesh and blood, with a wife and six his-self, and only eighteen shillins and sixpence a-comin' in, through bein' a policeman, as is hard work with them rough characters, and that nightwork as tells on the constitution

in time.

What I looks at is reason as did ought for to be considered in everythin', for however can they keep any one for eighteenpence aweek even in the workus, and as to partin' man and wife as had lived together over forty years it's a sin, that it is.

I'm sure the way as that poor old soul, MRS. CHALLIN, cried when I went to see her nearly broke my heart, that it did. Her little room that full of things, through havin' been decent off in her days, with a old bureau, as wouldn't fetch nothin, and a tent bedstead as filled up the place; but law, she set store on 'em, and said as she couldn't bear for to see her home broke up, and a little pallis it was for

cleanness.

She says, "You've been a kind friend to me, MRS. BROWN; in fact, I may say a mother to me," as is twenty years my elder if she's a day, but law, she didn't mean it. She says to me, "I've been comfortable I have, through livin' in

service many a year, and what with savin' and a trifle as was left me by missis, as I lived with over fifteen year, I thought as I should

do well."

I heard her say as she married CHALLIN, as were a widower with a son and daughter, as was good children to her; but she, poor girl, married, and went out to them wild parts, and was shipwrecked, and her poor father never held his head up after, and died in that very tent bed as his wife nussed him through till the last.

She was a-sayin' as she did the same by her little SAMMY, her only child as were his father's idol," For," says she," I often said, 'CHALLIN,' I says, 'you makes too much on him,' and so he did, as was only five when he sickened for the measles and was gone in a week, and then poor CHALLIN says to me, 'SARAH, you're right; I thought too much of that boy, and I've grieved too much for my poor gal as is in the bottomless deep; but,' he says, 'I'll try and bear up better now.' And so he did, poor dear, though it weren't for long, as jaunders proved fatal to, and then I was alone."

I do think as she might a-got on pretty well if she hadn't been persuaded to go into the chandlery line, and give thirty pounds for the business, and the agent, as was a swindler no doubt, said, "As the party as had gone out was independent through makin' a fortune, though only in it nine years." But she told me of all the rubbish as ever there was in that shop she never could have believed; and what with them as she give credit to never payin' her, and them as had money not a-dealin' with her, she didn't get on, let alone the thievin', "For," she says, "I've known them come in for a red herrin' on tick and steal the bundles of wood in their aprons, as was in a heap in front of the counter, as they'd take, and me only turned round to serve 'em."

Then, poor thing, she was sold up and took to charin', and come to know me, and have managed for to have her home about her till her legs give way. "And," says she, "I've managed for to crawl up to the house, as was nearly my death, a-waitin' hour after hour for to see the board in a wind as was cuttin' me in half, and then to be told by a man as rides in his carriage, as is only a carcase butcher after all, as the shillin' a-week and a loaf must be withdrawed, as had paid rates and taxes five-and-thirty years in the parish when that fellow was only a butcher-boy a-drivin' of a cart without a hat, as got up in the world through a-marryin' his master's widow, and his own father and mother workin' people, the father on the road and the mother at the washtub."

"Ah!" as I says to MRS. CHALLIN, "them's the parties as is hard on the poor, as I've often know'd it's the beggar a horse-back as rides heads up that high in the leather line, as you'd a-thought as Stepney you knows where." For there was them very FLEMINGS, as holds their Church wasn't big enough for, a-settin' that grand in their big pew, lined through with their red baize and brass nails, I remembers well nobodies, as was glad to run a errand for a halfpenny, and then to come the bounce and talk about not encouragin' idleness, and denyin' of his own sister the necessities of life.

So I told him when he come to my place for to ask how it were that his name had been mentioned by me to the parish doctor. I says, "And why ever shouldn't your name be mentioned? Ain't she your own sister? And what if she did marry a bad character, he ain't the only one," a-lookin' hard at him. "Now," I says, "you've put my blood up, you good-for-nothin' fellow," I says, "do you want for to be exposed ?"

He turned a sort of lead colour, and said as he defied all lyin' tongues.

the name of RELFELIZA RELFE I means. Now," I says, "if you I says, "Oh! indeed, no doubt; but," I says, "pr'aps you remembers don't do that as is right by your own flesh and blood, as I've know'd you neglect shameful before now, I tell you what I'll do I'll just step in to your good lady and tell her all I knows, so that's all about it." Ashes was his colour, a mean wretch, and his lips that liver colour, as he said he'd dare me to.

I says, "You'd better think a little," through knowin' as he was mortal afraid of his wife, as had twenty thousand pounds to her had threatened to leave him more than once. fortune, through bein' a tanner's daughter over in Bermondsey, as At last he says, "I ain't goin' to be bullied by my sister."

I says, "Bullied, poor soul, a-layin' in her bed, and not the strength for to dress herself, as a very few weeks must see the end on." "Well," he says, "I'll allow her five shillins a-week, and here's a month in advance; but mind, I ain't a-goin' to be troubled at home." I says, "All right; as long as you keeps to your word I don't trouble you, and I'm sure your sister won't." but I know'd it would come home to him, and so it did, for his eldest son, So I didn't mind as I'd got somethin' out of him, and off he went; there wasn't no puttin' up with, and his only gal died in a consumpas the mother made a fool on, went to the bad, and married a party as tion, and when last I saw him he was bein' lifted into his carriage, as all his money wouldn't give him back the use of his limbs as rheumatics

had settled in.

So what I says is that the poor did ought to be managed different, and not by a parcel of flinty-hearted wagabonds, as I considers them guardians, and talkin' about keepin' down the rates is rubbish, for I'm sure we pays all the same, and I do think if real gentlemen was to be guardians, and not a lot of twopenny greengrocers in the parish, it would be better.

But as for makin' every one come into the house, it's downright foolishness, as is a thing I don't hold with, that's what I says.

MARY ANNA.

THE tea-pots and the coffee-pots
Were neatly polished, one and all;
The dinner-services-odd lots-
Stood on the shelves, against the wall.
One taper's insufficient flame

Made all the kitchen sad and strange;
And many thousand beetles eame
From out the blacklead-coated range.
She only said, "Oh, deary, deary!
It's very hard," she said;
"They make the stove so horrid smeary;
I wish that they were dead!"

She heard the mouse behind the wall-
The nightbirds twittering in the street-
The Dutch clock ticking in the hall,

And some policeman on his beat.
She laid a dish upon the floor,
Half-filled with old, forgotten stout;
With half-a-dozen sticks or more,
Like scaling-ladders, round about.

She merely said, "I'm awful weary!
I must go up to bed;

Perhaps, if I can make them beery,
To-morrow they'll be dead!'

WHY are the English people like the act of reasoning? Because they are a racy-hossy-nation.

OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

WHEN the Athenæum abuses a novel toto corde we are always sure there is something good in the book. If in addition to this, the Illustrated Times, which is about the only paper that really criticises books instead of reviewing them, gives a favourable opinion of the work, we take it for granted it is really excellent. It was, therefore, without any doubt that we took up The Old Ledger (TINSLEY) by DR. STRAUSS. After perusing a few pages we could quite understand the virulence of a critic whose model novel probably is Live it Down, or some mild sensation story of that class. The Old Ledger contains a capital plot, the interest of which never slackens, and this despite digressions which in meaner hands might become instruments of terror to the ordinary story-reader, but which DR. STRAUSS renders so delightful by quaint fancies, picturesque touches, and a deep and kindly philosophy, that while they delight the average reader, they are funds of thought and information for those who do not think incident the only charm of a book.

The characters, even to some minor ones that only appear on the stage for a few moments, are drawn with vivid reality. Those which Occupy the scene throughout the story are thoroughly consistent throughout, and therefore possess a vitality that enhances the interest with which we read of them.

The English is scholarly-if anything too good, for here and there we meet with phrases which, though correct from a student's point of view, are so little used now as to sound strange. There is, perhaps, a little too much of what DR. JOLLIBOIS calls Polyglot to suit the general reader, but that is the only fault the most hypercritical could fairly find. For although DR. STRAUSS holds original views on many questions, even those who differ from him must respect his opinions carefully formed and logically defended.

Altogether the book is one of the best novels we have read for a long time-since THACKERAY, indeed, of whom the Doctor reminds us in passages. But The Old Ledger has other merits besides and beyond

Castles in the Air.

I DREAMT there existed a glorious town
Though I can't tell where it lay;
And I was a man of great renown,
And hadn't a bill to pay.

Its government clerks had work to do;
No tradesman tried to rob;

Its men had honour, the women were true,

And I never once met a snob.

Policemen were always on their beat;

Its casual wards were clean;

No butcher there raised the price of meat;
No shivering poor were seen.

Its fountains played in the principal square;
Its parks with flowers were bright;
Each cabman took his legitimate fare;
There was gas in the streets at night.

The great hotels were managed by men,
Who spoke in a civil tone;

Its streets were decent, and now and then
Young women could walk alone.
Theatrical managers ceased to act,
And brought out sterling plays;

And sensible publishers own'd the fact

That bullying never pays.

The critics were suffered to speak their mind,

When actors went astray;

And commissionaires you'd always find

At all hours, every day.

Its girls were pleasant, but hated slang;
Its boys were not all men;

Its middle-aged spinsters never sang,
But simply sighed, "Ah! when ?"

Its washerwomen were heavily fin'd
If they dared new shirts to rot;

Its mother-in-laws were sweet and kind,
When husband and wife were not.

To a palace I saw the people flock,

And they bow'd to a king named "Fun;"But I suddenly woke at the confident knock, And the whine of a sneaking dun.

the merit of being a good novel. It abounds in curious information and valuable memoranda in philosophy, in history, and in a profound knowledge of humanity.

We open the book at hap-hazard for an extract, and come on the following description of PEEL, who (with other real characters) is cleverly introduced, and gives an air of reality to the story:—

"The apparently cold and formal nature of the man truly abounded in the warmest sympathies with the joys and sufferings of his fellow-men. The generous aid which he extended with a princely hand to poor HAYDON and so many others. but which he would have blushed to find fame, sufficiently attests the nobleness of his heart and mind. No platform philanthropist' he-not one of those crosses between sham religion and sham charity, the great admired of the Hall, who head subscription lists with decoy donations, and delight in sprinkling their dilute the steam seen, to attract attention to their noble deeds and their noble selves; but benevolence over some patent, vast, red-hot misery, that the hiss may be heard and one who would delight in solacing some secret sorrow and effectually relieving some occult individual misery; and who would keep both hands employed in the congenial work that the left might have no leisure to inquire into the doings of

the right."

CURATES BEWARE!

WHAT are we to make of the Record? We wonder whether it can ever enter into the head of our seriously dull and evangelical contemporary to indulge in a sportive vein, and to make fun of the pious public who peruse its columns ? Really some of its advertisements read very much like hoaxes. There are so many of them that have given us genuine amusement, that it may seem invidious on our part to comment on one in particular: but will our readers kindly accompany us through the following ?

"A CLERGYMAN of experience and capabilities would be glad to undertake a position of oral usefulness. It is absolutely indispensable that the incumbent should be a person of piety, not presumptuous, and that the cure should be in contemplation of no matrimonial project. Address, Rev. A. B. M." &c. &c.

Please listen to the manner in which the last requirement is stated Its full force may not possibly be at first sight apparent, but the least reflection makes it obvious enough. "A. B. M.," who advertises for a curacy, is evidently a sensitive and impressible young man, He has heard and read with terror of matchmaking rector's wives and scheming daughters, and he will have nothing to do with either. No. There must be no marriageable young ladies near him. There is an insidious influence in a white muslin dress if it accompanies the priest in his village rounds. "A. B. M." turns experience to advantage. He has probably a vivid sense of the discomforts, to say the least, which his brother curates with their olive branches fast overgrowing their income, are compelled to endure. He will have none of them. The safest plan to avoid such a fate is to put oneself out of the reach of temptation altogether, and this our advertising friend determines to do. He knows he is fascinating, and that his heart is formed to love: but still no rector's daughter shall ever make a fool of him. He will have no slippers worked for him, and positively refuses to be gazed at by languishing eyes, as he looks "so nice" in his surplice or preaching gown. Supposing, however, that he succeeds in meeting with an incumbent, sufficiently "pious" and "not presumptuous," and who, though he is possessed of daughters, pledges his word that he has no "matrimonial project' " in contemplation for them, the attractive and impressible "A. B. M." must move amongst them "with eyes timidly downcast." It is just possible that he might be wounded by some dangerous stray glance, of which the wicked young ladies themselves might be unconscious. An evangelical puppy and spoon can be terribly vindictive; and in such a case it is very likely that he would think fit to appear as the interesting plaintiff for damages caused by breach of contract on the part of his incumbent and incumbent's daughters.

FERDINANDO AND ELVIRA.

Or the Gentle Pieman.

PART I.

Ar a pleasant evening party I had taken down to supper
One whom I will call ELVIRA, and we talked of love and Tupper,
MR. TUPPER and the poets, very lightly with them dealing,
For I've always been distinguished for a strong poetic feeling.
Then we let off paper crackers, each of which contained a motto,
And she listened while I read them, till her mother told her not to.
Then she whispered, "To the ball-room we had better, dear, be

walking;

If we stop down here much longer really people will be talking."
There were noblemen in coronets, and military cousins,

There were captains by the hundred, there were baronets by dozens.
Yet she heeded not their offers, but dismissed them with a blessing;
Then she let down all her back hair which had taken hours in dressing.
Then she had convulsive sobbings in her agitated throttle,
Then she wiped her pretty eyes and smelt her pretty smelling-bottle.
So I whispered, "Dear ELVIRA, Say-what can the matter be with
you?

Does anything you've eaten, darling Popsy, disagree with you?"
But spite of all I said, her sobs grew more and more distressing
And she tore her pretty back-hair, which had taken hours in dressing.
Then she gazed upon the carpet, at the ceiling then above me,
And she whispered, "FERDINANDO, do you really, really love me?"
"Love you?" said I, then I sighed, and then I gazed upon her sweetly-
For I think I do this sort of thing particularly neatly-
"Send me to the Arctic regions, or illimitable azure,
On a scientific goose-chase, with my CoXWELL or my GLAISHER!
"Tell me whither I may hie me, tell me, dear one, that I may
Is it up the highest Andes? down a horrible volcano ?"

know

But she said, "It isn't polar bears, or hot volcanic grottos,
Only find out who it is that writes those lovely cracker mottos !"

PART II.

"Tell me, HENRY WADSWORTH, ALFRED, POET CLOSE, or MISTER
TUPPER,
Do you write the bonbon mottos my ELVIRA pulls at supper ?"
But HENRY WADSWORTH smiled, and said he had not had that honour;
And ALFRED, too, disclaimed the words that told so much upon her.
"MISTER MARTIN TUPPER, POET CLOSE, I beg of you inform us ;"
But my question seemed to throw them both into a rage enormous.
MISTER CLOSE expressed a wish that he could only get anigh to me.
And MISTER MARTIN TUPPER sent the following reply to me:-
"A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit."
Which, of course, was very clever; but I didn't understand it.
Seven weary years I wandered-Patagonia, China, Norway,
Till at last I sank exhausted at a pastrycook his doorway.
There were fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and myrtle,
So I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle.
He was plump, and he was chubby, he was smooth, and he was rosy,
And his little wife was pretty, and particularly cozy.
And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed with
laughter hearty-
He was wonderfully active for so very stout a party.
Is it purity of conscience, or your one-and-seven sherry ?"
And I said, "O, gentle pieman, why so very, very merry?
But he answered, "I'm so happy-no profession could be dearer-
If I am not humming 'Tra! la! la!' I'm singing 'Tirer, lirer !'
"First I go and make the patties, and the puddings and the jellies,
Then I make a sugar birdcage, which upon a table swell is,
Then I write the pretty mottos which you find inside the crackers
"Then I polish all the silver, which a supper-table lacquers;
"Found at last!" I madly shouted. "Gentle pieman, you astound me!"
Then I waved the turtle soup enthusiastically round me.
And I shouted and I danced until he'd quite a crowd around him-
And I rushed away exclaiming, "I have found him! I have found

him!"

A. L., Hulme.-Not Hulme-erous enough.

GEORGE, Fenchurch-street.-We couldn't insert that, by GEORGE. FILEY.-Surely File-y might put a point to his jokes! TUNCAN GUN appears to have missed fire in aiming at rhyme. W. B.-"Ballads of the Blighted" are doomed to be blighted, and having been "basketed," most probably will b-lighted.

J. R. S.-"The lay of the Tract is not sufficiently attractive. H. J. B.—A "A Bulldog's Tale" has too much bulldog-grel for us. VORKUS. Because your subject is a pauper your verse need not be poverty-stricken. If you want your lines back you had better apply to the Returning-officer.

KATE, Clontarf.-We are sorry the riddles won't answer, and must give them up.

Since they ask for replies, riddles all should be why's.
Then don't marvel that failures yours are; f-

-or, of course, wisdom flies from the dangerous eyes

Of bewitching MISS KATE of Clontarf.

Declined with thanks:-N. B.; Yenrug; J. M., jun., Tyrone; W. M., Rugby; H. J. B.; F. R. B. H., Hull.