THE GRAND VOLUNTEER BALL.
Miss Bertha Green to Miss Peplum Brown.

CLAPHAM, SATURDAY. MY DEARFST PEPPY,-I went: and how shall I ever be able to tell you all about it? I quite dread to-morrow, for I can't get it all out of my head, the lights, and the music, and the flowers, and the chandeliers -it was like ALADDIN's cave after he'd rubbed the lamp, you know, dear, except that it's all gas, and wherever you went there was a looking-glass, and whenever you looked in it there was a blaze like millions of Koh-i-noors; and ices all the evening-at least I had, though whether he paid for them or not I don't know. For of course I went with him, dear. We managed it so nicely, or I never should have been allowed to leave the house. They all thought I was going to the Oratorio, and as they don't read the supplement to the Times, they didn't know that that was the next night, so I went to AUNT PIDGER'S at Camden Town, and she knows I'm engaged to CHARLES, and thinks him a very seriously disposed young man. She was quite agreeable to our going to the Oratorio, poor old dear, and went off to bed quite comfortable, leaving the girl to sit up for me till half-past eleven. CHARLES arranged all that, and it was a quarter past four when I slipt into bed with oh! such a head-ache, and all my best dress torn out of the gathers because a stupid cavalry officer- at least he was dressed like one-would dance in spurs. I shall want a new breadth to put into the skirt, for I was completely trampled upon by a crowd that stood round to see a sheriff, a vice-admir 1, a citizen of honour and renown like JOHN GILPIN, and the LORD MAYOR himself dance a quadrille. Oh, it was such fun, especially the vice-admiral. You should have seen him steer his partner about in ladies chain, and then when, as CHARLES said, he got headway, he completely bore down upon the LORD MAYOR. His Lordship himself was the greatest fun of all, though, for he was dressed in a Court suit, quite tight-I mean the suit was, you know, dear, and with black what-do-you-calls and silk stockings; and when he stood with his arm akimbo on the raised dais, he looked as though he didn't know whether he was a member of the Royal Family, or part of an acting charade or a waxwork. I fancy, do you know, that he'd studied the figure of WASHINGTON at MADAME TUSSAUD'S, and got up his deportment on that model; but wasn't it good-natured of the old dear to come in state-at least I suppose it

was in state, though I should have thought the sword-bearer would have been with him. It would have been great fun to have seen him dancing in uniform, though I don't think it could have been much more ridiculous than some of the ladies, and a good deal more modest! For I declare dear, I was quite ashamed of some of them, they were so very décolletée, and I made CHARLES take me away to have some supper. Oh, such a great supper-room, where they had laid out a splendid supper for goodness knows how many people-thousands, I should think, and there were so very few people to eat it, that we had every luxury, dear, I assure you, and CHARLES went and spoke to MR. HAND himself about some grouse and iced champagne. I think I wanted my supper, for I didn't mind the shameful impropriety of the persons who dressed in that way so much afterwards, but still, how they can do so is astounding to me. I thought it would be crowded; but it was very select, or else of course the LORD MAYOR would not have come in state. I was surprised to see so few uniforms there, but some of them were so very pretty. CHARLES wore his; but he had the collar turned back and lined with green moiré, and wore a white necktie and a turn-over collar with his tunic. It was such a contrast to see the bright scarlet coats round the LORD MAYOR, and there was such an immense alderman on the dais that I wonder the MESSRS. DEFRIES didn't light him up so that we might see him all at once, for nothing seems too big for them to light, and no place too ugly for them to make pretty. I couldn't believe that it was the same place where we went to the cattle show, and now it's all over, and the lovely flowers are to be taken down, and the chandelier will be sold, and I must never whisper a word about the ball till I'm married. It's to be in April, dear.-Yours till then, B. GREEN.

Police Intelligence.

IT has been observed that the detective force of the country, for the past ten days, has been looking very lack-a-DEASY-KELLY. How is "the rough" most frequently disguised ?-In liquor. NOTICE.-Now ready, the Twelfth Half-Yearly Volume of FUN, being

THE FIFTH VOLUME OF THE NEW SERIES. Magenta cloth, 4s. 6d. ; post free, 5s. Cases for binding, 18. 6d. each.

His Vicar smiled to see

This armour on him buckled:

With pardonable glee

He blessed himself and chuckled.

"In mildness to abound

My curate's sole design is,

In all the country round

There's none so mild as mine is!"

And HOOPER, disinclined

His trumpet to be blowing,

Yet didn't think you'd find
A milder curate going.

A friend arrived one day

At Spiffton-extra-Sooper,
And in this shameful way

He spoke to MR. HOOPER:
"You think your fanious name
For mildness can't be shaken,
That none can blot your fame-

But, HOOPER, you're mistaken! "Your mind is not as blank

As that of HOPLEY PORTER Who holds a curate's rank

At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.

"He plays the airy flute,

And looks depressed and blighted, Doves round about him 'toot,' And lambkins dance delighted.

"For years I've longed for some
Excuse for this revulsion:
Now that excuse has come-
I do it on compulsion!!!"

He smoked and winked away-
This REVEREND HOPLEY PORTER-
The deuce there was to pay
At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.

And HOOPER holds his ground,
In mildness daily growing-
They think him, all around,
The mildest curate going.

BABINGTON WHITE.

(AIR, Allan-a-Dale.)

BABINGTON WHITE has no thought of up-turning;
BABINGTON WHITE for renown has no yearning;
BABINGTON WHITE has no gift for plot-spinning;
But BABINGTON WHITE likes red gold for the winning!
Come read ye the novel; come list to the bite;
And tell me the craft of bold BABINGTON WHITE.

Oh, the authors of England may prance in their pride

If of copyright treaties they keep the safe side;

Oh, French plays for the net-and French fictions for

game,

And "new and original," too, just the same.

Oh, the dramas and stories that foreigners write

Are free prey for TOM TAYLOR and BABINGTON WHITE.

BABINGTON WHITE, oh, he shuns human ken,
Though his copy is plenty, and cursive his pen ;
BABINGTON WHITE he is not DUMAS père,

But many French authors must write him their share,
And the best of them, BALZAC, must aid to indite

The chef d'œuvre inconnu of our BABINGTON WHITE.

BABINGTON WHITE to reviewing has come;

The Pall Mall has taxed him with theft-he is dumb. "You may call me a pirate," says he, "if you will; My line is to keep very dark and be still."

Oh, the critics they asked of the author a sight,
"Don't you wish you may get it?" said BABINGTON
WHITE.

From FEUILLET to steal, and from BALZAC to bone,
Is rather too strong when the debt you don't own!

But vain altogether the hue and the cry,

He laughs and refers to the green in his eye.
But the public still asks, though in accents polite,
"When the truth will be known about BABINGTON
WHITE?"

Town Talk.

BY THE SAUNTERER IN SOCIETY.

SOME people are never satisfied. MR. ERNEST JONES seems to be one of that class. At the commencement of the Fenian trials at Manchester he talked a lot of perilous bunkum, tried to interfere with the course of justice and bully the bench, and then with a final bluster threw up his brief, to the damage of the clients who had trusted their case to him-the damage being not the withdrawal of his advocacy, but the leaving of them without any advocacy at all, be it understood. For all this he was let off more leniently than he deserved by the press. But he wasn't happy even then; so he wrote what I dare say he thought a dignified letter to the Telegraph the other day, "drawing attention to the fact that prisoners," &c., &c., &c.-as if his own absurd conduct had not attracted attention enough to the matter. However, only one writer condescended to notice the epistle. I am opposed to Trades' Unionism, and to that form of it which was described in Cassell's Magazine the other day as Professional Trades' Unionism; but I think it is to be regretted that the rules of the Bar cannot visit with censure such a freak as that of MR. JONES at Manchester-a freak that I can only explain by supposing that he fancied a bit of claptrap was not a bad line of policy with a view to standing for somewhere under the new Reform Bill. I hope and believe that he will prove to be mistaken if this is his idea, and that the new electors will not be so easily led.

The Middlesex Sessions have begun again, and I regret to see that "JUDGE PAYNE," as he is styled (just as people used to talk of "the Chief Baron" of the Coal Hole), is still allowed to dispense justice. I fancied the AUGUSTA MITCHELL case would be the "tailpiece"-to borrow one of his own terms-of his active judicial career.

The British Clerk has been making himself heard this recess. He proclaims with the tongues of a Hydra that he wants a good dinner at

A la Carte !

A SPECIAL department of the police-office at Moscow is to be established for the collection of photographs cf individuals and objects useful to the officers of the law in pursuit of criminals. The Russians have taken the hint from our police van and are about to establish a police carte.

the smallest possible outlay. Well, he is undoubtedly right. He ought to be able to get a sufficiency of food, good and well cooked, for about half what he gives now. To judge from the success of cheap eating-houses in Glasgow and elsewhere, he might be fed at about eightpence a head, not including the potables. Unluckily, however-as it seems to me-both he and his purveyor want too much for their money. Purveyor wishes to deal in that politico-economical virtue, but socially detestable crime-the buying of his meat in the cheapest (and nastiest) market, and the selling of it at the dearest rate. On the other hand, Clerk wants to be more than fed for fivepence-he would like clean table-napkins, an immaculate cloth, a toothpick, and silver forks for of the day. Some years ago, the popular panacea was brandy Of course there is a rush for the popular remedy and salt. A short time since it was chlorodyne. Now it is cooperation, and a Co-operative Clerks' Dining room is the proposed heal-all. It remains to be seen whether Clericus Britannicus is a gregarious bird. I think not! The Duke of Blankshire will join a company in which ever so many plain Blanks, Esquires, are shareholders; but whether Clericus with £120 per ann. will consent to cut his tablecloth to suit the measure of Clericus with £50 is a matter of dubiety.

his money.

Parliament, it is rumoured, will assemble early in November. Well, it has plenty to do, so the sooner it meets the better. At present town continues empty, and the new lamps in Hyde-park can throw no light upon anything or anybody.

Railways and railway literature have an interest for everybody now, and accordingly I found myself the other day reading the directors' report on a certain branch in connection with the Great Eastern. I have seldom met with so amusing, so lugubrious, so candid a publication. "Your directors regret to announce that they have little of a cheering nature to lay before the present meeting"-and then they unfold " norrible tale," disclosing how "the unsatisfactory position" of the Great Eastern has kept the branch's traffic in nearly a stationary

position. Poor thing, fancy the anomaly of a stationary traffic! The next bit of comfort is that nearly five hundred and fifty pounds must be got somehow to pay the G. E. Co.; that the branch company, having been pressed by creditors, has had a receiver appointed, and that the debenture interest has not been met "a circumstance which the directors very much regret!" The remedy proposed is to try to induce the G. E. Co. to "better develop" the traffic-the returns of which cheeringly show an improvement in the last month or so. Finally, the company has spent nothing for the past half-year-chiefly, it is just possible, because it is "now totally without funds; the capital account, therefore, remains with very little variation since last report"-with the variation only of zero, that is, I suppose. Such a document is enough to sicken people of railway speculation.

To clear off the mags.:—London Society has some very good pictures this month-but with some very poor ones to keep up the average. "Thumbnail Studies" are good, but want better printing. One of the best of the small engravings is that to "MR. FELIX in the Stubble," by MR. GODDARD, who should put his initials plainly to his work, lest G. B., who tries to draw similar subjects, should get the credit of it. Good Words is up to the mark this month, in literature and art. Especially good is ZWECKER'S "Reindeer and Sledge," an admirable bit of "tint" engraving. Very charming, too, is the girl's attitude in PINWELL'S illustration to "Guild Court.' The Argosy comes without a cut, and is scarcely as good as usual. There is a smack of amateurishness about some of the papers that I regret to see-as an instance, take "Something About a Carousel," in which the writer says, "Merely knocked the ring, causing the same to drop on the ground, and an oath to drop from the equestrian's lips, if he happened to have that weakness." What weakness? Lips? The Sunday Magazine commences a new volume with great promise. An improved wrapper and a greater number of illustrations are among some of the fresh features. The "Seaboard Parish" is charmingly illustrated. A paper on "The Flight of Birds," by the DUKE OF ARGYLL, is most interesting, though the style is a little jerky at times. "Musings in a Yorkshire Valley is in very bad taste as far as concerns the mention of the BRONTES, but "goody" people don't consider taste a Christian grace, I fancy. "On Fire about it," by the REV. W. ARNOT, is not, as might appear at first sight, an article on ARNOT's stoves. The Gardener's Magazine and Le Follet appeal to their respective publics as admirably as usual, and Routledge's Magazine for Boys maintains its position as the best boys' magazine published.

"

I have received a letter from MESSRS. METZLER touching the "Comic Song Book" I noticed last week. They wish me to state that they knew nothing of its contents, and that their imprint appeared on it without their consent. Altogether, the book appears to be one of the most impudent things of the day.

I noticed some very charming verses in this month's Belgravia" with the signature C. S. C., and conjectured that they were by MR. CALVERLEY. It was a bad shot, for they are the initials of a littératur of longer standing, MR. CHARLES SMITH CHELTNAM.

CORRECT SOLUTIONS OF ACROSTIC No. 30, RECEIVED OCTOBER 9TH :-Laura G. Valentine; Merry Andrew; D. E. H.; Polar; Gyp; Row; Ruby; Xarifa; Crathes; St. Leonard's; Peri; Peminer.

Boning an Appointment.

KISSING goes by favour, and even our civic dignitaries are not abovcopying the mild jobbery which used to be the chief charm of Governe ment appointments. In old days it was not impossible for a child to be made a superannuated postman (and receive the pension of the office) in his cradle. Some of the Common Council want to perpetrate something of the same sort. The respected keeper of Guildhall being about to retire, his office should in all justice and propriety pass to his second in command, MR. HARLAND, who has for the last eleven years been practically the resident keeper in MR. TEMPLE's absence. But the post (with the salary attached) has set the mouths of some of the Council watering for it, and they are trying to carry it away from MR. HARLAND, and prevent his well-earned promotion, and the consequent promotion of other officials under him. Fortunately, the standing orders, which forbid a member of the Court to be a candidate for one of the Courts' offices, ought to disqualify the principal applicant. It remains to be seen whether the Council will descend to the job, and by evading the orders proclaim their adherence to the maxim, nil nisi Bone-um.

Too Good to be True.

"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good." If we may credit an informant, the wintry blasts we have lately experienced have made the very teeth of the unfortunate inmates of the Dumb Asylum-chatter.

THE Visiting Committee kind

Have borne a quadruped in mind.
The animal had been o'erworked-
Had had, too, his allowance shirked.
The Visiting Committee vowed
Such doings should not be allowed,
And so six weeks of grass and gorse
They ordered for the Workhouse Horse

The Visiting Committee might
On other questions throw a light.
Who was it that kept back the feed
And starved the uncomplaining steed?
Who was it overworked the nag,
And made his weary sinews flag?
Let the Committee name the source
Of all the wrongs of Workhouse Horse!

For why? That man the same would do
By four-legged animals and two;
Would deal short rations forth toke-
Think water'd skilly but a joke-
And extra hours at stones and oakum
Extort for skillium et tokum-

In short, adopt the self-same course
With pauper as with Workhouse Horse!

Let the Committee then enforce-
(Public opinion will endorse)-
A punishment which shall divorce
From the official mind so coarse

CHIN-I-ONS.

The notion that the law allows

Old Bumble of the brazen brows
To drive and starve without remorse
The Pauper-and the Workhouse Horse

Rhyme-and Reason?

THAT admirable paper, the Clerkenwell News, has relieved our mind of a terrible weight. Taking a retrospect of the literature of the past year, we were shocked to discover that nothing worthy of the name of poetry had appeared in the last twelve months. We had just come to the conclusion that the Muses had deserted England, when, happening to take up our C. N., as we invariably do when we need some new and thrilling sensation, we had our attention arrested, not to say forcibly taken into custody, by this startling announcement :

RHYME! RHYME! RHYME!

TO Lovers and others.-Verses (original), on any subject, composed and forwarded by post on receipt of as many stamps as lines required. Squibs and Trade Circulars at reasonable charges. " "Poeta," etc. The true poet reveals himself in the first few words. How exhaustive is the appeal "To Lovers and others!" Of course, all who are not "lovers are merely "others." Long may they remain so! Long may every votary of CUPID be able to say to the contemner of the passion, "Sir, you are an-other!" And then how business-like, and therefore poetical, is the plain Saxon promise of poems at a penny-a-line. Squibs at reasonable charges, indeed! We don't know what is the proper charge for exploding a squib; but we protest against the use of the word "squib" to describe the coruscations of mind, the iridescence of intellect, the gyrations of genius to which we look forward when "Poeta" shall return us the quid pro quo for our sixpenn'orth of QUEEN's heads!

Not by Hook.

We are in a position to state that in commemoration of the late Pan-Anglican Sy-nod's-as-good-as-a-wink, the episcopal palace on the banks of the Thames will in future be known as Crook-haven.