MRS. BROWN AND THE CLOTHES MAN.

I DID say as I never would sell nothin' to them Jews agin as goes a-peddlin' about, for though I've know'd them fair dealin' in their ways, yet the way as that last one served me was downright swindlin,' though I am sure a more 'onorabler old party never lived than old MRS. ISAACS, as I'd 'ave trusted with untold gold, and did used to be in the second-'and line, and, I do believe, give a fair price for many things as I 'ad by me as once belonged to my missus, as said I was to 'ave 'er clothes through a-livin' with 'er out Limehouse way, as 'ad a cottage, and 'er son, a captain, and me with 'er till 'er death, not as I ever got what she meant me to 'ave through that MRS. BLISSET and 'er one-eyed daughter, as was friends to MRS. EDGES, as were my missuses name, and reglar plunderers, as I caught 'em myself at 'er drawers, and if that MRS. BLISSET didn't 'ave the face for to come to the 'ouse the day of 'er funeral with MRS. EDGES own front on, as she must 'ave stole off the lookin' glass, where it was 'angin' when she was took, and many other things missin', as I told the captain on myself, but 'im that easy as he wouldn't make that old woman disgorge not even the front, as didn't become 'er, though new, and only come 'ome from the 'air-dresser's two days afore she was took ill, in a blue box, and never on 'er 'ead but one evenin' as she 'ad friends to tea, and only lay three weeks, through water a-settin' in on the chest, as I know'd it would when I see 'er ankles, as was mill posts for size, and could 'ear 'er breathe down in the back kitchen with the doors shet. Well, as I was a-sayin', MRS. ISAACS she gave a fair price and paid me 'onest, and certainly I never did taste anything more delicious than a bit of almond puddin' she brought me, as she gave me the receipt on as I've got somewheres, tho' not a thing as I'm likely for to want thro' bein' only used at a weddin'.

I do like their pickled 'errin's, likewise their passover cakes, as 'ave took tea with 'er myself their 'oliday times, as is werry singler in their ways, partick'ler in wearin' their 'ats in the 'ouse of a Friday evenin' as is their Sunday, and, bless you, wouldn't stir the fire nor snuff a candle was it ever so. As of course is right if that's their ways, as every one did ought to act up to what they professes.

But law, I'm a-talkin' of twenty year ago, and things is much changed every where now, and no doubt Jews with the rest.

'Ow I come to 'ave anythin' worth sellin' was thro' a gentleman as 'ad lodged with me, as went out to Indy and left a 'ole 'eap behind, as I called in a Jew as kep' a-standin' opposite my parler winder, a-touchin' 'is 'at that perseverin' as is their characters and brings 'em riches no doubt.

So I 'as 'im in at last, and show 'im the clothes. "Well," he says, "ten shillin's for the lot." I save, "Go along with you, why there's a jacket as is good as new, and three white waistcoats." I says, "If they ain't worth two pounds they ain't worth nothin'." He says, "Two pounds! Bless the woman, why you'll ruin me." I says, "I'm sure I don't want to, and you wouldn't let me if I did."

So we goes on a 'agglin', 'im a-askin' me if I 'adn't nothin' more to sell, and at last he says, "I'll give you two pounds for the lot, but," he says, "I ain't got the money with me. Here, I'll tell you what I'll do; here's five shillin' for this jacket"-as he'd been and slipped on 'is own back, a-sayin' as he wanted it for his-self—" and I'll bring you the money for the rest as I'll come for in arf an 'our." Well, he walks 'isself off, and there I kep' them things a-kickin' about my back parler three days and he never come for 'em, and I see thro' the trick as he'd got the best thing of the lot for five shillin's and left the rest.

The way as I was pestered by Jews a-comin' arter clothes for a fortnight arter was downright surprisin', as I think was all a gang as must 'ave told one another.

I was certainly werry savage over that Jew's behaviour, but didn't think much more of it after a week or so.

It must 'ave been three months arter as I was a-goin' to see MRS. OBBS, as lives jest by Great Prescott-street, and was a-walkin' along by the Minories I meets that Jew as 'ad done me out of that jacket full but, as the sayin' is.

So I says, "You're a pretty impident wagabone, you are, to come and cheat me out of my property like that." He 66 says, Why, vat's the old woman a-talkin' about? I never set eyes on you.' I says, "You say that agin' with your 'at on," for he'd been and took it off a-pretendin' to wipe his 'ead. He

says, "What's my 'at got to do with you!" I says, "You put it on." 66 Well," he says, "there it is on, and now what do you want I says, “Do you mean to my as you never see me afore?" for I know'd their ways. So he says, "You're a werry foolish, ignorant old woman as don't know manner, and did ought to be ashamed. of yourself to stop any one like this.” I says, "You pay me one pound fifteen as you owes me, ➡d come and fetch away your rubbish from my place." So he says, "You're a nice one, you are, to sell me a lot of rubbish for one pound fifteen! Why, you ought to be ashamed on yourself."

Well, there was gettin' quite a crowd round us, and so I says, “Go

"Go on

on, I was wrong to speak to sich a low character." He says, yourself, you wile old fish-fag." He says, "I remember you now. Why, if you ain't old MOTHER Bossy, as was transported for robbing a sailor down Ratcliffe-highway. You've come back, 'ave you?" Law, I thought I should have dropped, for there was a parcel of low-lived characters all round as begun a-groanin' at me. So I says, "My name ain't no MOTHER Bossys. I'm a respectable woman, and never lived in Ratcliff-highway, tho' I certainly did 'ave a aunt as did." "Ah!" he says, "all in the gang, no doubt. Why," he says, "I do believe you're the old woman as 'tices children up courts and strips 'em."

If you'd 'eard the yell as them fellars give, and a wild-lookin' dirty wretch of a woman says, "Let me get at 'er," for she says, "I'm sure she 'ad a 'and in takin' my TOMMY's boots," and if she wasn't agoin' to rush at me, as I could see were in liquor.

What to do I didn't know, and quite give myself up, for I were that wedged in that I 'adn't even got free use of my umbrella, but I got my back agin a street door as to keep them wretches at bay, leastways, would 'ave done so, only all of a sudden it opened through a little gal a-comin' out, with a jug in 'er 'and, and in I went flop on my back in that passage.

I don't know what would 'ave been the end on it if I'd not 'ad the presence of mind for to say, "Fetch MRS. OBBS, as lives in Great Prescott-street, as knows as I'm a respectable woman," for all them wagabones round the door kep a-sayin' I was a old thief.

"Do you know MRS. OBBS ?" says a wery nice speaking woman, as proved to be the mother to the broken jug. "Yes," says I: "and been acquainted over five-and-twenty years.'

Then says she, "Come in," and banged the door in the face of them blackguards, as knocked and rung for a minute or two, and then lewanted, no doubt, through the police.

It took a good 'arf-'our for to set me to rights, and as to my welwet cape, it was dreadful to see.

I'd 'ad my redicule cut off my arm, and my umbrella was gone, and I never could 'ave gone on to MRS. OBBS's if it 'adn't been for that good woman, as was named WALLCOT, a-goin' with me, for I was afraid of being mobbed.

But law, it come 'ome to that Jew beautiful, for I was a stayin' up with my cousin near the Marble Arch, as 'ad a lot of things as she wanted to dispose on; as the family 'd left behind, and was perquisites to the servants, and 'ad left 'em for MRS. PADWICK to dispose on, through a-goin' off to the Continong all of a 'urry.

It was a 'eap, and some lovely things, as many a gentleman would be glad to jump at.

So one mornin' she says to me, "I'm a-goin' to sell all them things, and a party is a-comin' to look at em, as is the 'Ebrer perswasion." "Oh," I says, "Indeed," and was just a-tellin' 'er 'ow I'd been served, a describin' of the feller.

She says, "I shouldn't wonder if it was the same," and just then a knock come at the kitchen-door, and I gets a peep at 'im, and if it wasn't the wery identical. MRS. PADWICK wanted to send 'im off about 'is business, but I says, "Not afore he's see the things," as I know'd would make 'is mouth water.

In he come to the room where the things was all 'eaped up, me akeepin' in the butler's pantry, as is next it, with a glass door, as I kep

open.

He begun a runnin' the things down at first, but was wery much took with them, partiklar a lot of shirts, and 'ad just said as he'd give six pounds for the lot.

MRS. PADWICK she says, "I must ask a lady fust if she'll let you 'ave em." So she says, "Step in MRS. BROWN, will yer?"

In I walks, jest as he was a-beginnin' to gether up the things, alookin' on them as 'is own. I says, "You let them things alone this instant, and walk your chalks." Law, he was took aback, and only stared. I says, "Here BREWER," I says, a-callin' to the odd man, as was cleanin' out a cellar, I says, "show this feller out." So the clothes man he says, "My good lady, whatever do you mean ?" "Why," I says, "I mean to turn you out, and if you don't go I'll 'ave a policeman in." He sees as I was in earnest, so 'idnt say no more, but was off in a jiffey, and it's lucky as I was there, or if MRS. PADWICK didn't sell them werry things for eleven pour.as fifteen to a werry respectable man, as proves there is fair dealin's with them, but wherever I falls in with that one I'll show 'im up, and make him repent the insulted me.

Very like a Wail.

as he

TYFmRUS, a colt in the French stable, is one of the prominent candidates for Derby honours next year; we trust that the public will not become possessed of the idea that he is a second Gladiateur, or there will be a fearful amount of Typhoeus Fever throughout the country during the winter.

A WORD FROM A WOMAN.

DEAR FUN,-Mamma is inexorable, and refuses to listen to reason. I do so hope that you will take my part, and that of the rest of the female prisoners in London, and gain us our liberty. I know, my dear old friend, that you have got some sense about you, and I have a notion that if you could get away you would not object to green fields, smooth lawns, fresh air, and nature. I think I can see you stretched out full length on a grass cliff, your cap and bells flung aside, and your legs kicking in the air! I would not envy you your liberty. Plead for

ours!

If there were any reason for our staying in town, I should not so much mind. There are no amusements, no excitement, no dancing, no flirting, no anything.

The other day Mamma was actually unkind enough to take me to a drawing-room, and I had the humiliation of driving down St. James'sstreet in a string of about thirty of the most miserable hack-flies you ever set eyes on. Everyone turned out to see the "drawing-room farce," as CHARLEY COURTOWN calls it, and the remarks made upon the seedy cortège would have shocked even you. Don't talk about the State ball! I never was at such a slow entertainment in my life. No one to talk to, no one to dance with, old fogies and stuck-up dowagers and everybody looking as bored and out of temper as possible. And now they say that we are to stay in town because the SULTAN is coming, and because some breakfast parties are to be given at Buckingham Palace, and we girls are wanted to teach the SULTAN how to play croquet. Fancy playing croquet with a SULTAN in a back garden at Pimlico! The thing is absurd. Bother the SULTAN and his breakfasts and croquet! My dear friend, the place for croquet is the lawn at Heatherleigh, and if you will come down there when we do get away-I will give you five hoops, and pass you in a canter.

Yours,

FLO FURBELOW.

Would you believe it? Mamma made me sit out Le Corporal et la Pays at the French plays the other night. I was so shocked, and did not know where to look, but Mamma scolded me, and said that my modesty was all affectation. I don't know what I shall come to in time.

LI TERALLY AND MILITARY.-The late CHARL 23.

An Amey-able Couple.

A MAN named AMEY was recently charged at Marlborough-street with a brutal attack on his wife. He was ill-using the poor woman, whom he had knocked down, jumped on, and nearly strangled, when and claw on his face. a favourite cat, named Topsy, jumped on him, and fixed with tooth He was obliged to implore his wife to remove the animal. This is a startling example of a crime getting punishment. Men who ill-treat their wives deserve the cat-AMEY got it! Puss passed a bill for his punishment containing ten

claws-es.

Ass-ass-ination.

THE police statistics of Paris return 226 horses and fifty-nine asses as killed in March. In April, the donkeys were only twenty-nine, and in May nineteen; while the horses consumed were nearly the same in number each month. If "dog doesn't eat dog," it is evident, also, that though hippophagists flourish, the donkeys don't eat their brothers.

Charlie is my darling.

NAPIER was not only a great military hero, but also, as turned out after his death, a "Poet (?)" as well. He was not, however, as has been suggested, the author of "Campaign Charlie is my Name."

Roasted with his Jacket on.

subsided, we would counsel Mr. MURPHY, if he WHALLEY's his perNow that the excitement attending the Birmingham Riots has sonal comfort, not to deliver his lectures in other large towns, as we have no wish to hear of his being received with a WHALLEY of stones.

Wanted, a Cæsar.

establishment, and who are members of a Rifle Corps, have recently THE "Young Men," who belong to a well-known Linendraper' had a "Sham Fight" between themselves. Can no modern Cæsar be found to immortalize the affair under the title of "De Bello". Calico?

OUR "MUTE"-YOU-ALL-FRIEND: The Undertaker!

OUR BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY.

BY MOST OF OUR EMINENT AUTHORS.

EMERSON, RALPH WALDO. BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

ASK not when the Poet's eyes,
Under grey Atlantic skies,
Opening wildly 'neath the morn,
Soapless, silent, and forlorn,

Token gave that a Bard was born!
A Bard at the sight of whose seeking,
The Grizzly grew silent and dumb;

At the sound of whose musical speaking,
The bee flew away with a hum.
Listen: I tell you an oracle:
Puny beginnings we had :
Look; ante-Cæsarean coracle
Leads to the last iron-clad !
Hither bring the Orphic runes,
Set to the latest Yankee tunes,

And I tell you the secret the pines told me
Whispered it, whilst I was sleeping-

Far in the woodland where gummy secretions
Slowly exuded,

As Nature concluded

That the type of the pine should approach its completions

Only by weeping

Gum from the tree!

Hist! an acorn fell!

Wonderful miracle!

What a deal there is, to be sure,

In most of the things about us!

And ain't it a lark, to be pure,

While the piny secretions endure,

And the orthodox heathen doubt us?

Hark:
: a wonderful mystery!
There is a honey-bee,

Which never read ancient history,

Knows not its A, B, C:

And here is a titmouse, making

As much of a row as it can

And my spirit with wonder shaking, Out of its bonds awaking,

Blushes,

Flushes,

But candidly rushes,

To own it belongs t'a man!

Far in the sacred groves of Rome
NUMA POMPILIUS had his home;
MAHOMET's native land

Was but a waste of sand;
And there's a smack of SOCRATES
Amongst Athenian olive-trees!
But, lo! what a man am I!
I, the last-born of the ages!
I, who have filled several pages
With the often recurring cry,
"Lord, what a man am I!"
For hither the Muses led
Over Atlantic waves,

To Kentuckian Mammoth-cares,

Humanity, Asian-bred!

Out from Asia they came;

Into Europe they rushed;

Out of it did the same;

Later, in Boston, gushed! .

They say I am like CARLYLE:

I've a hearty respect for MR. C.;

Yet do but listen a-while

While the titmouse whiddles "Whee, whee!"

And twiddles again, "Whee, whee!"

With the greatest respect for THOMAS CARLYLE

The style that belongs to me

Is the style of the frantic

And urgent Atlantic

Over whose troublesome sea

Came oracular titmouses bringing

The voice of the Ages to me;

It is only "Whee, whee!" "Whee, whee!

N.B.

R. W. E.

THE SHEFFIELD OORE.-BROADHEAD and bloody-bones.

An Artless Statement.

THE Manchester Guardian supplies us with the following curiosity :

MAT

ATRIMONY.-WANTED, a LADY, with a heart; widows need not apply.— Address H 90, at the printer's.

It is clear the Man-chest-er is on the look-out for a female bosom that will reciprocate sentiment, but why he should refuse to treat with widows puzzles us. We have generally heard that widows were particularly remarkable for the number of (he) arts they possess. Should the advertiser meet with a lady without a heart, we are requested to state that the College of Surgeons will be happy to treat for the anatomical curiosity.

Thunderer or Blunder.

COME, now, really the Times is a little too bad. It stated the other day that "MONSIEUR HEER, the Swiss envoy, was about to visit Munich to pay his respects to the KING OF BAVARIA." What nonsense! Unless the Swiss envoy is the direct descendant of SIR BOYLE ROCHE'S bird, how, we ask, can he be both Heer and there at the same time? It's impossible. (Loud cries of "Heer! Heer!" from our readers.)

A Stroke of the Imagination.

RECENT explorations of the Gorilla country fail to confirm the early accounts of the animal given us by M. DU CHAILLU. The wonderful statement as to its beating its breast when enraged, producing terrifying sounds, must certainly be regarded as a coup manqué.

Our Tupper.

THE Proverbial Philosopher in his latest published work, declares that

A book is in no sort like a cable, to be judged by its weakest inch,

Neither has a hedge, nor has a wall, to be measured for its usefulness by gaps. This, we admit, is true. But a book may be measured for its tediousness by gapes, Mr. M. F. T. ; a writer may keep on too long "rythemicharping" on one string.

Answers to Correspondents.

[We cannot return rejected MSS. or sketches unless they are accompanied by a stamped and directed envelope.]

D. O. N., Upper Baker-street.-D. O. N.-T! an answer that suits you to a T. MONKEY GEORGE.-We are not in the habit of joking about religious questions; nor are you, to judge from the contribution you sent us about St. Alban's, Holborn.

cream

W. L. Skimmery, Oxford.-Your jokes about "cheese" and " suggest the thinnest of skim milk. You were evidently trying to make a butt-o'-milk, but like many dairymen have been too self-reliant, and depended on the pump.

COBWEB.-Not suited to fill-a-mental corner.

A FRENCHMAN, Manchester.-We suppose from the broken English that you were trying to crack a joke.

QUALIFIED."With a D.-I.-S., with a Dis!" as the song says.

IN COPIA CAUTUS.-But you haven't caught us, and you won't catch us putting those jokes in!

W. J. S., Queen-street, Blackfriars-read.-See notice at head of answers. BEGINNER.-Should begin by being original.

R. H., Seymour-street.-It is not worth noticing.

Box 27.-Thanks.

A HORNED OWL.-Your tu-whits are not a double meaning.

A TOXTETH RANGER, evidently has only a limited range for he is wandering in his mind.

A. S. D.-Thanks.

E. J. M., Osborne Terrace.-M.S. awaits you at the office.

"THE FORCE OF FATE."-But unfortunately we don't see the force of it! R. E. F.-Declined-no, we beg pardon-you won't be R. E. F. uved! J. B. W.-We are not in the habit of buying our pigs in pokes, or of taking wit on thrust, as the Irish would say.

S. M. C., Wandsworth-road.-We shall be happy to give you our opinion. F. M. F.-In-F-ably stupid!

KNIGHT COMMANDER.-The suggestion had already reached us. Declined with thanks.-Billy; D. N. D., Islington, Liverpool; Lobby; J. C. R. P., Dalston; Colonel P. P.; E. H. S., Camden-town; A. D. B., Queen's-road; I. M.; P. P.; A Sufferer; J. A. M., Borth; W. G., Uxbridge; B.; J. H. W., "Our Own Lion ;" Trivial; X. Q. R.; E. J. Little, Alie-street; S. G., Liverpool; A. G. S.; O. M. T.; J. G. L., Stanley-street; Seraphina Piralus; J. M'C., Glasgow; H. A., Berners-street; A. Z., Durham; P. Y., Trumpington-street; W. J. K., Gray's-inn; D. S., Liverpool; Geo. H., Dover; M., Aberdeen; U. X. M., Halesowen; Lunatick.

A DAY AT MARGATE. FOR our part we never cared much for Brighton, with its salt-water Serpentine. But with Margate it is quite another thing. There we can wander by the brink of the ocean and "gather shells," as the poet remarks, "from youth to hage "- -we always say hage at Margateand are reminded pleasantly of the Cockayne of our birth. Undiluted Nature-the seaside with the chill on-would be too unusual a diet. We must have it mixed with a cockney flavour. A grog, composed of briny water, the spirit of cockneydom, and the sweets of a holiday, is a refreshing beverage.

Well, we admit that we have heard fastidious people call Margate vulgar. But as Popkins most justly suggests (he has just run up to town from Margate on business), "What do we care for 'ideous fast people!" They are welcome to their opinion, and we shall stick to ours. Liberty of thought is the palladium of British liberty. Why did our ancestors meet at Runnymede? Why did our forefathers fight on Bosworth Plain? Why? In order that we might be free to have any opinions we choose as to whether Margate is vulgar or not. Hang the vulgarity!-(that is Popkins again)-Margate is a very jolly, a very healthy, and a very pleasant place. We were once travelling in a first-class railway carriage, in which there were two persons who evidently knew each other tolerably well. Said A to B, "I hope goin' to Margate did your hankle good!" Said B to A, "I'm much obliged to you for advising me to go there-I was well in a week." Said A, apologetically, "Ah, it's a 'ealthy place, is Margate, only it's so 'orrid vulgar!" To which responded B. "Well, now, Hi didn't hobserve that!" And B was in the right, and A was like the man spoken of by the bard,

"He, who, in search of silence, "silence!" hoots,
Is apt to make the hubbub he imputes."

A was guilty of vulgarity in condemning Margate as vulgar.
We-[Note to ED. Look here, you know, I can't go on "we"ing
in this way. If you can't let me speak in the first person, you may
write the rest of the article yourself. There!]

Yes, I did go to Margate the other day, and enjoyed myself very much; and if the absurd scruples of an editorial personage-to whom I will not further allude-would allow, I would interest the public and witch the world with a description of my wanderings. I'm sure

some people would be more interested in that than in disquisitions and generalities about what "we" think. A youth of middle stature and pleasing exterior, in a light-brown coat, blue tie, sprigged vest, and mauve unmentionables, might have been observed about the latter half of the nineteenth century and near the end of the Margate pier. He attracted the attention of the old and young-particularly of the fair sex. His manners were easy and engaging. He took the air until it was time to dine. And then he dined-frugally, but tastefully-wisely, but not too well. The post-prandial Pickwick (it was a Havannah, but alliteration is the thing nowadays) graced his manly brow. (It is possible that "mouth" would be more correct, but it would not be so elegant as "brow" in that connection.) In the evening he went to the opening of the Hall by the Sea, and listened with evident delight to the concert. He was heard to express an opinion that MR. HALL is an admirable chefd'orchestre; that MADEMOISELL LIEBHART, if she wishes to cultivate an engaging and attractive manner of singing, should study MADAME LEMMENS-SHERRINGTON's style in preference to MISS ANNIE ADAMS; that MR. EDWARD MURRAY sings "Ruddier than the cherry" most charmingly; that OFFENBACH's music is delightful; and that the Hall this year is even more charmingly decorated than it was last season. Later in the evening his manly form was seen gliding through the giddy mazes of the dance. Save that he whirled his partner round once in the Lancers with such celerity that her necklace broke, and the beads, by centrifugal force, were shot in all directions, like shells from the American Pivot-Continuous-Fire-Cannon, his Terpsichorean career was one brilliant success.

That youth of middle stature, pleasing exterior, and light but not fantastic toe-(toes, ten of 'em, to be strictly correct)-that Adonis was Popkins. Popkins is charmed with Margate-and really Popkins is quite right. I agree with him-and we agree with him.

A P'int of Honour.

MR. M. T. BASS should have no empty honours for giving the good people of Derby six acres of recreation-ground. To empty hogsheads in his honour would be perhaps the most appropriate way of acknowledging his generosity. We hope the Derbyites-we don't mean the government-will record the gift by a fitting Bass-o relievo.

BEESLEY ON BROADHEAD.

Is murder in the fashion,

When our BEESLEY in a passion,

With a bloated aristocracy declares,
That the ruler of Jamaica,

With propriety should take a

Place by BROADHEAD and the infamy he bears?

Of the workman's wrongs redressor,

Oh! illogical professor,

You have rather made a mess of it this time;
You're a pretty sort of teacher,

Of such rampant bosh the preacher,

When you cannot see there are degrees in crime.

The workman at your blunder,

Must have stared aghast in wonder,

And from cachinnation scarcely could refrain:
When for all your education,

With your blatant declamation,

You were suffering from nigger on the brain.

That BROADHEAD, wretched sinner,
Should so publicly be winner,

Of excuses made by BEESLEY's a disgrace;
And the artisan, disgusted,

With the teacher that he trusted,

From his leaders the professor should efface.

'Mong the pious men of Wadham,

As of old in sinful Sodom,

Are there ten just men and upright to be found? When we've BEESLEY from that college,

Who abuses so his knowledge,

'Mid the working men who stare and shout around.

With CONGREVE who's a Comtist,
FREDERIC HARRISON the promptest

To declare Trade Unions must from guilt be free;
Will the Radicals say spilling

BEESLEY'S blood would not be killing,

If some BROADHEAD was to "pot" PROFESSOR B. ?

WHAT entertainment are you reminded of by the opening day at Wimbledon? The Monday Pop.

the wane.

FROM OUR STALL.

We are always pleased with MR. BUCKSTONE when he digs up one of the old comedies and puts it on table at the Haymarket. The revived comedy of Who Wants a Guinea? is hardly up to the second COLMAN's usual standard; but, though inferior to the Heir at Law, John Bull, and the Poor Gentleman, it is racily written and full of broad fun. GEORGE COLMAN dashes off dialogue as easily and spontaneously as FARQUHAR or SAM FOOTE. It is horse-play, no doubt, beside the polished sentences of CONGREVE or SHERIDAN, but, at least, it is off-hand, and suggests no painful racking of the brain, and no ruinous expenditure of the midnight oil. Compressed into three acts, the comedy goes very well. Its story is not one of absorbing interest, but its leading characters-or caricatures-are well represented by the Haymarket company. MR. KENDAL played the part of a dashing Irish baronet, Sir Larry McMurragh; MR. BUCKSTONE was a village busybody, one Solomon Gundy; MR. CHIPPENDALE and Mr. COMPTON personated respectively a boorish but benevolent cockney tradesman and a drunken gamekeeper; and very well they all acted. MESSRS. HOWE, ROGERS, and CLARK also contributed to the general efficiency of the performance.

Of The Coquette we cannot speak half so highly; indeed, we can hardly speak of it all, as we have only seen the last act. The dialogue, to judge from the specimen which came under our notice, is of the meanest kind-full of the baldest platitudes and Tupperisms imaginable; and the versified "tag" which brings the curtain down is laughably innocent of point or epigram. Miss AMY SEDGWICK did all she could with a French countess, who goes as mad as Tilburina, but ultimately recovers her senses, and speaks in rhyme to prove her sanity; but all the talent in London might have striven in vain against the overwhelming weight of such dialogue. The last scene was nicely set.

Ar the Olympic Betty Martin has been revived. The chief character is played by Miss E. FARREN with unflagging spirit; MR. G. VINCENT and MISS MARIA HARRIS also appear in the resuscitated farce.