OT as I'm one to bear no malice or 'atred in my 'art, as I was taught in my catechism, but as to loving MRS. FELTON like myself, tho' she is my neighbour, I never could, for more disagreeabler woman never trod shoe leather; and what I calls a

a

reg'lar grinder, with a husband at sea, as must be glad to get there out of her

way.

Not as she can help lettin' lodgin's, as is a thing as I have done myself, and may come to agin, for if anything was to 'appen to Brown, the 'ouse is double what I should want, and move Not as ever I had spoke to that woman, thro' not a-likin' her scowlin' ways, and them four children of hern if constant rowin's is proper broughtin's up, why she've done her duty, as is a thing as makes me glad when it's a wet day, as I can't hear her a-hollarin' at them in the garden, as they've trampled into a wilderness, with rabbits and fowls kep' in wire work at the bottom, as is a downright nuisance.

again I hope I never shall.

And how that lady come for to lodge with her I couldn't think; as I see was a lady, tho' not much luggage, for the cab drove up, and me a-lookin' over the blind, not as I'm one for to watch my neighbours.

I don't know how it is, but somehow anyone in weeds is a sight as moves me, tho' not a becomin' thing in my opinion, tho' some thinks quite different, as was the case with old MR. CLINKER, in the leather line in the Boro', as was always worretin' his good lady for to wear 'em in his life time, a-sayin' as he should like for to see what sort of a widder she'd make, which she never did, for he buried her, and married his own housemaid as led him a frightful life, and serve him right too.

How I come to be a-lookin' out of the window I can't think. Yes, I know, I was a-watchin' for the muffin bell, as is a thing I sometimes relishes with my tea, as I toasts myself, and butters both sides.

Well, it was just dusk when that cab drawed up and the poor lady got out, with a pale face, and the little boy about six, I should say, a hopeless cripple, as made my heart bleed for to see her carryin' up them steps. So I says to myself, "He'll never comb a grey hair, I can see;" for there was death in his face, being that drawed and all eyes.

I couldn't get that boy's face out of my head, not for days, but never see nothin' of him, as I should say must have found them young FELTONS a downright nuisance.

It must have been a fortnight, in fact I know as it was thro' what 'appened, as they'd been in them lodgings, when I heard a ring and some one a-talkin' to our Sarah, as is a good gal, but don't keep that pot-boy at his proper distance, so I says "Whatever is it, SARAH?" She says, "It's next door."

I says, "Go along next door, why I can hear some one at the kitchen door, as is a thing I don't hold with, and means to keep the key on." Says she, "It's young MASTER FELTON."

I was a-thinkin' as he didn't want no good, when up he runs with bluchers as made my passage mud all over, and says, "Please, MRS. BROWN, mum, would you mind a-steppin' in?"

"Well," I says, "it's not a thing as I cares to do," thro' havin' put my feet in warm water the night afore, and the evenin' bein' damp, "but whatever is the matter?" "Why," he says, "mother's stept out with a friend, and not expected in till ten at the earliest, and the lady in the parlour is a-goin' on tremenjous."

"You don't mean to say as she's in liquor, I hope, for never will I believe it till my own eyes"Oh, no," he says, "but she's a-sobbin' and a-cryin' like wild, and we don't know what to do." However should they, as the eldest is but twelve, and only a bit of a gal from the parish as a servant, as must have a life on it, I should say?

So I wraps up pretty warm, and with my clogs on, for wear them ingeyrubber things I can't, as heats the foot, and is always a-slidin', and in I

So I says, in a low voice, "MRS. DORNTON, mum," for I'd hear say as that were her name, but as I didn't get no answer, I taps at the foldin'-door; when I hears a voice as give me a turn, say, "Don't come near me, he's a-dyin', let me alone."

So in I goes at them words, and says, "Whatever do you mean by a-goin' on like this, with no light and not having no one with you?"

Up jumps a figger as was seated near a bed, as the gas-lamp showed thro' the foldin' doors, and says, "Pray spare me till he is at rest, I can't pay you, indeed I can't."

I says, "Pay me, my dear," for I heard it was the poor lady's voice, I says, "You don't owe me nothin', and if you did I shouldn't trouble you for it." I says, "Wherever is the light?" She says, a-catchin' 'old of my hand, "I haven't got one, and that dreadful woman I'm afraid to ask." says "Rubbish about afraid." So I hollars out to the gal, "You bring me a light," and she hollars back as she ain't got one till missus

I

comes in.

I says to the boy as run up, "You go into my place and ask my SARAH for to give you a couple of candles and the lucifers," as he did very willin', and while we was a-waitin' I holds her hand and listens to the breathin' in the bed, as was short and quick like.

I says, "How long 'as he been bad ?" She says, "Nearly a week."

I says, "No doctor, nor nothin' ?" She says, "I've not a farthin' nor a friend in the world," and busts out agin.

I says, "If you goes on like that I'll leave this very moment," as made her cling to me and give in.

When that boy brought me the candles, I says, "Now just you step down the road, and ask Mr. RAILTON for to come here, and say as you comes from MRS. BROWN, and I'll give you a penny if you're quick, as seemed to stir him up. And when I lighted the candle, bless me, I never see such a sight as that room, as hadn't been touched for days, and I should be ashamed for the doctor to see.

As to the poor little boy, he was on the bed partly dressed, a-lookin' death all over. So I sets to work, and pretty soon had him on to the sofa in the front room, with the blankets round him. Then I calls the gal and says, "Light a fire." She says, "Missus have locked up the coals."

"Then," I says, "Get a scuttle from my house and light a fire," as was soon done. "Now," I says, "you do that bedroom this very moment, or I'll have the law on you."

It's well as my SARAH come in with the coals, for I sent her back for the brandy, as is a gal I can trust with the keys, and soon gave that child a teaspoonful or two of brandy and water warm, so that by the time the doctor come he was more active like. As to the poor lady, she was that exhausted that I made her take just a wineglass herself, with a crust of bread as Sarah got her, for the poor creature was a-sinkin' thro' famishin'. For that gal told me as she didn't think they'd had anythin' since Monday in the room, and this was Wednesday evenin'.

When MR. RAILTON come in he gives me a look as I comprehended, and says, "He'd better be got to bed," as was a poor little wasted mortal as ever you see. The poor lady she whispers to MR. RAILTON, "Is there any hope? Oh! save him, I'll work for you, do anything if you'll save him!" So I says, "If you wants to kill him go on like this." I says, "This good gentleman will do his uppermost, and no one can't do no more, but," I says, 66 you musn't take on like this."

Well, the doctor he got a feedin' the poor little boy with a bit of toast sopped in brandy and water, as revived him, and we was all a-lookin' at him, when the door was busted open violent, and in bounces MRS. FELTON, with her bonnet on, as made the poor lady catch hold on my arm, and say, "Oh, pray save me from that awful woman.'

"Awful woman," says MRS. FELTON, a-turnin' deadly white, as is a temper I can't a-bear, "Awful woman, who are you speakin' to, as am a honest woman. Anyhow as you are not. Pay me my rent, or turn out. I'll have the police to you."

So the doctor, he says, "Can you disturb her under such circumstances ?" a-pointin' to the boy. "Let 'em go to the workhouse, like beggars as they are, says she, "and not come and take respectable lodgin's, as they can't pay for." So I whispers to the doctor, I says, "Do you think as moving him next door would do any harm?" He says, "Anywhere better than here, and I'll carry him myself, in my arms.' So I speaks to the poor lady, as didn't seem to have no sense left, till she see the doctor lift the boy up in his arms, and then rushes up to him.

I says, "You're only a-comin' next door, both on you." So I sends in SARAH to open the door, and the doctor carries the poor boy, as was light as a feather, into my house. Just as he was a-leavin' the room, if that woman didn't lay her hand on the blanket, a-sayin', "That's my property."

I says, "Your property it may be, but put your hand on it if you dare, and see how I'll serve you." She turns on me like a tiger, and says, "You're a interfering old fool. What business have you in here at all, aorderin' my servant about?" I says "I'm in your lodger's room, as you ain't no rignt in; I knows the law," and I says, "You're a low-lived creature, as talks about respectable lodgin's, and is the disgrace of the place. Nice respectable lodgers you had last month, as you had to take up to the police for pawning your bedclothes. And pray what are you yourself? Do you think as I don't know all about that chap as was your lodger, and de

serted his wife and family down in Lewisham, as may come yourself to have the bed took from under you with your husband a-comin' home any time when you least expects."

Well, she was took aback, and seemed for to stagger like. She says, "It's all lies," a-graspin' like. I says, "Oh, is it? Very well, then, next time as he comes I'll get some one as will imdemnify him pretty quick. Now," I says, "I don't care who or what you are, but you behave yourself decent, and let this lady take what she wants and go quiet, and if she can pay you she will."

That woman was struck dumb, she didn't say a word, but goes out of the room. So I says to the poor lady as had sunk on a chair, "Put your things together, and come with me." But law bless you, she hadn't enough to fill a pocket handkerchief, besides her bonnet and shawl, as were only a tippet, for as she told me arterwards she'd parted with everything down to her boots. I was a bit afraid when BROWN come in as he'd be put out with me atakin' in strangers like that, but he only said, "Martha," he says, "don't believe all as you're told, but," he says, "I'm not the man for to shet my door agin a lone woman and her dyin' child, was they ever so bad."

All that night did I set a-watchin' that poor boy. His mother wouldn't lay down, as was my wishes, not as she could help a-dozin' off in spite of herself. I never see a whiter hand than she'd got, tho' that thin as you might see thro' it, as the sayin' is, and a lovely head of hair as her widow's cap kep under, and I see by the way as she begun for to do it as she was a lady in her ways, tho' poor soul not such a thing as a change about her.

I think it must have been about eight when MR. RAILTON looked in, as didn't see no great change, but I did, and says, "He's a-sinkin' rapid," and so he was.

I'd said to the poor lady over night, "Excuse me, mum, but haven't you no friends for to write to ?" She busts out a-cryin', and says as she'd got a father as was married again, living.

I says "Wherever does he live? says, "I never can.'

She says,

"At Herne Hill; but," she

"Now," I says, "if you're a-goin' to let pride lead you to distraction, as the sayin' is, it's not my business, but," I says, "consider your child." So she seems for to hesitate, and at last she opens a little black writin'-desk as she'd got, and she writes a letter as BROWN posted hisself as he went out in the mornin'.

I don't think as there was five minutes passed all that day as she did'nt keep a goin' to the window and a watchin'. Well, I got a bit of a nap in the afternoon, but was up and quite lively about five, and got a cup of tea, as was the only thing that poor lady would touch, and as to the poor boy, except a moistenin' of his poor parched lips, there wasn't nothin' to be done.

It was heart-breakin' for to see her settin' by the bed, a holdin' his poor little hot hand, a kissin' of it with the tears a streamin' down her cheeks; and she kep' sayin' to me, "Do you think he'll come?" For it was too dark for to see out of winder. I says, "Surely, my dear, if he's got the feelin's of a father in his bosom, as is natural."

I was just a tryin' for to make that poor boy's head comfortable on his piller, when I see as the end were a-comin'. So I didn't say nothin', but makes a sign to her and puts him gently into her arms, and says, "My dear, he's a goin' to a better, happier world. Do you have his last breath as will be a comfort for you to think on arterwards." She says, "No, no; don't tell me so, pray don't." I says, "My dear, it is my duty.' I says, "Do you try and do yours, and submit," I says, "to One as loves him, and is a takin' him out of a wicked world." So I takes his little hand and give it a kiss, for he looked like one of the Holy Angels, with a sweet look a-comin' over his face as his dear little sperrit passed away. She didn't shriek nor scream, but I see her give one look up as went to my 'art. I heard her mutter them blessed words as is our only stay in life and death, and then she fell a faintin' on the bed.

Just then there come a ring like wild at the gate, and I heard footsteps and voices in the passage. So I runs to the top of the stairs and calls SARAH to come and help me with the poor lady, and up rushes a elderly gentleman and a young lady, as kep' saying, "Where is she?" I says, "Step in here," and showed 'em into my bed-room, for I says, "It's all over." "What's all over?" says the old gentleman. I says, "The little boy is gone to heaven." He says, "My poor girl, where is she?" I says, "There," and in he goes with the young lady, as bust out cryin' like wild, and says, "EMILY, EMILY! don't you know me? I'm CLARA," and the poor old gentleman, with the tears runnin' down his cheeks, fell on his knees beside that bed, and said "EMILY, EMILY, forgive me!"

I thought my heart would 'ave broke, as I shet the door and left 'em to theirselves. As must have been a bitter meetin' and ought to be a warnin' to them as quarrels, and keeps up bitter feelin's; for tho' they took her away, and buried the little boy handsome, they couldn't heal her wounds, and wanted for to pay me liberal. As I says, "No," 1 says, "never will Í take a farthin'; and as to settlin' with MRS. FELTON," I says, "let some man do that, as isn't a female as I'd let myself down to speak to." I think it must have been full three months arter that that young lady come out, still in weeds, in a carriage for to see me, and brought me a handsome clock for the mantel-piece, and she kissed me, a sayin', "You were indeed a friend; and don't think as ever I can forget what you've done for me," and bust out a cryin', and would go to see the room where he died, and stayed nearly two hours; and if she'd been my own flesh and blood Í couldn't have cried more. As wanted me to go over there, for her stepmother is dead, and her sister keeps house. So I says, "No," I says, a friend in a 'umple spear, 1 knows my place, as I will always keep to." And she promised to come again soon, and couldn't help hardly a smilin' when I told her how my words had come true about MRS. FELTON, as had been and gone and shot the moon, as the sayin' is. ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.

"as

PADDY BLAKE'S ECHO.

N the gap of Dunlo

There's an echo or so; And some of them echoes is

very surprisin'; You'll think in this stave That I mane to desaiveFor a ballad's a thing you expect to find lies in ;*

But sartin and thrue In that hill forninst you There's an echo as sure and as safe as the bank too; If you civilly spake, "How d'ye do, Paddy Blake"

The echo politely says, "Very well, thank you."

One day Teddy Keogh With Kate Connor did go To hear, from the echo, this wonderful talk, sir;

But the echo, they say, Was conthrairy that day, Or perhaps Paddy Blake had gone out for a walk, sir. "Now," says Teddy to Kate,

"'Tis too hard to be bate By this deaf and dumb baste of an echo, so lazy;

But if we both shout To each other, no doubt We'll make up an echo between us, my daisy!

"Now, Kitty," says Teddy,
"To answer be ready,"

"Oh, very well, thank you," cries out Kitty; then, sir,
"Would you like to be wed,
Kitty darlin'?" says Ted.

"Oh, very well, thank you," says Kitty, again, sir. "Do you like me?" says Teddy;

And Kitty, quite ready,

Cried, "Very well, thank you," with laughter beguiling.
I think you'll confess
Teddy could not do less
Than pay his respects to the lips that were smiling.

Oh, dear Paddy Blake,
May you never forsake
Those hills that return us such echoes endearing;
And may girls all translate
Their soft answers like Kate,
No faithfulness doubting, no treachery fearing;
And, boys, be you ready,
Like frolicsome Teddy,

Be earnest in loving, tho' given to joking,
And thus when inclined,
May all true lovers find

Sweet echoes to answer from hearts they're invoking.
SAMUEL LOVER.

THE HOSPITABLE FRIEND. (CATULLUS. ODE XIII.)

F the Fates will let it be,
Shortly you shall sup with me,

Like a prince, my friend,-but mind,-
You each dainty dish must find!
Some sweet girl you, too, must bring,
Wine, spice-every kind of thing!
And, if you will bring but these,
I will spare no pains to please.
What can my poor larder give?
Spiders, only, in it live!

But I'll tell you what I'll do-
Give you love, and welcome, too!
Everything that's recherché,
Fit to grace the festive day!
Perfumes, such as RIMMEL ne'er,
No, nor LUBIN could prepare;
Nor SULTANA; for, between us,
My mistress got them straight from Venus!
When you smell them, sure you'll say,
"I wish I were all nose to day!"

T. H. S. ESCOTT.

"Too true to be put in a ballad."-Old Saying.

"Rule, rule of where you've been intruding to,
Fool, fool, learning please begin;
You'll, you'll learn to be alluding to,

The neighbourhood of Chancery-lane as 'skid-a-ma-Lincoln's Inn'!" "But skid-a-ma-Lincoln's Inn appears to be unmeaning nonsense. What in the world has Lincoln's Inn to do with it ?" asked I.

"Hush," whispered he; "You're all wrong again, you can't scan that line. Say, 'But why allude to Lincoln's Inn, pray tell?' and I'll answer you."

"But why allude to Lincoln's Inn-pray tell?” said I, in obedience to his instructions.

"Because it fits into the line so well," he answered, triumphantly; and then he proceeded to the second verse, which appeared to me to be even more idiotic than the first.

"And when of punning speech, you know, the end you nearly reach, you know,

Experience will teach, you know, a comic song to screech, you know; And laughter to enhance, you know, each song should have a dance, you know,

(A needful circumstance, you know), a dozen minutes long! "Rule, rule, enjoyment not diminishing,

Fool, fool, booby, booby, boob

You'll, you'll learn, each ballad finishing,

With a flip up in the skid-a-ma-link, and a flip in the juben-jube!" And here he proceeded to dance about in such a dreadfully wild and reckless manner, that I really feared that he would end by dislocating all his limbs at once.

"How dare you call me 'fool and booby boob' ?" I asked, with not unnatural irritation.

"Because I find no other rhyme to 'jube,'-with the exception of 'pneumatic tube,'-which couldn't easily be introduced, and so I hope my rudeness stands excuced."

He proceeded then to tell me, in preposterous rhymes, that if an inhabitant of the Region of Burlesque ventured to speak aloud in prose he was liable to be beheaded on the spot, and that to finish a comic song otherwise than with a comic dance, was penal servitude for life. It was in vain that I represented to him that I could not extemporize songs of any description-that the only tune I knew was the National Anthem-that I had never attempted to rhyme a couple of words in my life, and that as for a pun, I had as great a horror of it as of a theatre itself. He could offer me no consolation in my difficulty, nor could he hold out any hope of pardon if I offended by publicly speaking in prose. He advised me to begin to study the art of rhyming with facility, and he placed a volume in my hands containing all the known rhymes, possible and impossible, in the English language. He recommended me to study them for a couple of hours, and he promised at the expiration of that period,

to introduce me to the KING OF BURLESQUE and his court.

As soon as my attendant (whose name was BILLIBOLLIBOSKI NINCOMPOOP), had left me, I set to work on the volume he had given me. In it I found an alphabetical list of words that rhymed with each other after the fashion of a WALKER'S Rhyming Dictionary, only much more complete, and an appendix containing a list of twenty-seven thousand three hundred and ninety-two puns, all more or less (generally less) original. The scores of seven hundred and thirty-two (or thirty-five, I forget which), comic and sentimental songs, concluded the volume. I worked at it for the two hours with no result worth mentioning, and I hailed the appearance of my attendant as a convict under sentence of death hails the appearance of the sheriffs who are to lead him to execution.

BILLIBOLLIBOSKI NINCOMPOOP arrayed me in a garment of a fantastic description, and then led me through the streets of a large town to the King's palace. I was much struck with the appearance and demeanour of such of the inhabitants as I happened to see on my way. They were all dressed in costumes as astounding as the one I wore myself, and they had, for the most part, astonishing heads of hair. The young men were especially remarkable, for they had lovely complexions, beautiful eyes, a quantity of back hair, usually with a tortoiseshall comb stuck into it, and extraordinary figures for boys. Their legs were remarkable fine, and they appeared particularly proud of them, for they lost no opportunity of exhibiting them, by twirling quickly round, and so disarranging the loose drapery of their tunics. Whenever one of these young men met a gentleman or lady, I noticed that after a short conversation, full of bad jokes (at which neither of them laughed), they began to dance in a wild and altogether irrelevant manner. And, indeed, I found that they frequently danced in this way when they were quite alone, and at almost every corner was to be found a young man or young woman finishing a soliloquy by dancing in the peculiarly reckless manner I have described. The young women wore dreadfully short dresses, and if it had not been that I felt curious to learn the habits and manners of so extraordinary a people, I should certainly not have thought of looking at

them.

Perhaps the most startling features of this astonishing country were to be found in the celestial phenomena which met my gaze whenever I looked upwards. Instead of the beautiful blue vault of heaven to which I have ever been accustomed, I found that the sky descended in short strips about six feet apart to the very roofs of the houses. Between these strips I could catch occasional glimpses of rough men dressed much in the garb of ordinary British carpenters. They appeared to be engaged in pulling tackle and in turning windlasses, though with what object I never could make out. The stars, too, were not scattered over the heavens as are the stars that we see in England, but they appeared to grow in long rows between the strips of sky to which I have alluded, and parallel to them.

At length my companion and I reached the King's palace. It was as

gaudy and in as execrable taste as the apartment in which I found myself when I first arrived. Everything looked cheap, tawdry and ricketty, and the very throne on which the monarch sat was made of rough deal coarsely gilt on the front portion of it alone.

As we entered we found the king surrounded by his court, who were singing what appeared to be the local National Anthem, to the air of an old Scotch song, called, if I remember aright, "The Laird of Bonnie Cockdee.” It ran, I think, as follows:

Oh, the lords of creation of every degree
Consider our monarch as great as can be,
Whoever they are, they acknowledge you see,
That never there was such a monarch as he.
Wherever you go you will hear it allowed,

That great as he is he is not at all proud,

But he'll take from his subjects of humblest degree,

Sure never there was such a monarch as he!

Upon which the king replied,

My Lords and Gentlemen,-I'm greatly flattered by the neat verses you've so glibly pattered. By "neat" I don't mean strong, but bonâ fide, I call them neat because they're pretty tidy."

The king then caught sight of me, and in bad doggrel, wanted to know where I came from, and all about me. BILLIBOLLIBOSKI threw me into a state of fearful confusion by whispering that it was expected of me that I should immediately extemporize a complimentary song. There was no tiene for reflection, so I extemporized the following clever parody on the popular British anthem before alluded to. I have italicised the portions which I altered from the original :

GOD save our gracious King,
Long live our gracious King,
GOD save the King.
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
GOD save the King.

approbation from the court. I thought it rather good for a first attempt. I was pained to find that this really neat parody met with little or no The king, however, received me graciously, and immediately appointed me his Leading Loko Median. I haven't, to this day, the faintest notion what the title implied.

PICKLEYICKLEYSING, to whom he was good enough to introduce me. The MONARCH had a beautiful daughter, the PRINCESS PRETTY As I had left my excellent though elderly wife at Clapham, I considered her I was prompted to this rather by a desire to convert her to my own doctrines, as good as dead, so I felt no scruple in devoting myself to this lovely girl. and to add her to the faithful flock of which I was an honoured though humble member, than by any notion of mere worldly love. But alas for her, she was betrothed to a young Prince-PRINCE POPPETSKIN, who appeared to monopolize her society.

The PRINCESS was very rude to me indeed, and as for PRINCE POPPETSKIN, his behaviour was outrageous. He was perfectly well aware of the difficulty I had in speaking in rhyme, and he delighted to address me in a single line ending with a word to which it was almost impossible to find a rhyme, such as "month," ," "silver," "orange," "writing-desk," "bismuth," and so on. The PRINCESS followed his lead, so that I had the greatest difficulty in keeping up a coherent conversation with her. After I had interchanged a word or two with either of them, they would begin to sing a comic duct, in which I was forced to take my part. As I have no idea of singing, and never knew an air throughout, it will be easy to see that my position in this awful Anthem, and all the parodies that could be made on it. At first I relied Court was anything but desirable. I soon exhausted the British National solely upon it, and introduced it whenever I had a chance, but eventually I became such a nuisance, that as soon as I began it, everybody left the room. necessary. It was a very neat one, and was founded on the curious simiI had only one pun, and that I also introduced whenever a pun became larity in sound between "merry twinkle" and "periwinkle," but I found no little difficulty in inventing an excuse for its introduction whenever I made a remark. It necessitated going a long way round, and saying a great deal more than I wanted to say, which involved me in another difficulty-that of finding a dozen rhymes instead of only two. Now the only rhymes I could think of were, the following: management and banishment, cockles and noddles, twelfth and self, London and hunting, Grammarian and Mary Anne; so anything like intelligent conversation was altogether out of the question.

This state of things lasted for twelve months. I am not going to give an account of all the difficulties I encountered in the course of that period: I reserve that for a large work which I propose to publish, and which will give a detailed account of all my sufferings during my sojourn in the Region of Burlesque. Eventually I was sentenced to death, because I could not find a trisyllabic rhyme to Postlethwaite,-that at least was the ostensible reason, though I incline to the belief, that I had by that time made myself such an intolerable nuisance with my National Anthem, my five brace o rhymes, and my only pun, that my speedy death was unanimously desired. immediately on my decapitation I found myself somehow transported to a I was neatly decapitated on the day twelve-month after my arrival, and cell of the Wandsworth Police-court. From this humiliating durance I was liberated by a benevolent magistrate, and, after depositing five shillings with his worship for the good of Her Majesty the QUEEN, I reached my home, to (I hope) the great joy of my wife and all my children. Here is their good health and all their families, and may they live long and prosper!

W. SCHWENCK GILBERT.