PART III.

Soon after the Knight took this maiden away,

And with her did ride till they came to the sea,

Then looking upon her with anger and spite,

He spoke to the virgin and made her alight.

The maid from the horse immediately went,

And trembled to think what it was that he meant;

Ne’er tremble, said he, for this hour is your last,

Then pull off your clothes. I command you in haste.

The virgin, with tears in her eyes, did reply,

O! what have I done that now I must die?

O! let me but know how I did you offend,

I’ll study each hour for to make you amends.

Oh! spare but my life and I’ll wander the earth,

And never come near you while I have breath.

He hearing the pitiful moan she did make,

Then from his own finger a ring he did take

And unto this maiden in anger did say.

This ring to the water I’ll now throw away;

Pray look on it well, the poesy is plain,

And when you see it you may know it again.

I charge you for life, ne’er come more in my sight,

For if you do, I shall owe you a spite;

Unless that you bring the same ring unto me,

With that he let the ring drop into the sea.

Which when he had done, from the maid he did go

And left her to wander in sorrow and woe;

She rambled all night, and at last did espy,

A homely poor cottage, and to it did hie.

Being hungry and cold, with a heart full of grief,

She went to the cottage, and asked for relief.

The people relieved her, and the very next day,

They got her a service, as I hear people say,

At a nobleman’s house, not far from that place,

Where she behaved herself with modest grace;

She was a cook maid, and forgot all things past,

But here is a wonder, now comes at the last.

When she a fish dinner was dressing one day,

And opening the head of a Cod, as they say,

She found a rich ring, and was struck in amaze,

And then she with wonder upon it did gaze.

At viewing it well she found it to be

The very same ring the Knight threw in the sea,

She smiled when she saw it, and blest her kind fate,

But she did to no creature the secret relate.

The maid in her place did all others excel,

That the lady took notice, and liked her so well;

Said she was born of a noble degree,

And took her, her own fair companion to be.

The hard-hearted Knight unto this place he came,

A little time after, with persons of fame,

But was struck to the heart when he there did behold

This charming young virgin in trappings of gold.

Then he asked the lady to grant him a boon,

And said ’twas to talk with that virgin alone;

The lady consented, and the young maid,

Who quickly agreed, but was sorely afraid.

When he did meet her, you strumpet, said he,

Pray did not I charge you to never meet me;

This hour is your last, to the world bid good night,

For being so bold as to appear in my sight.

Said she, in the sea, sir, you flung your own ring,

And bid me not see you, unless I could bring

That ring unto you, and I have it, said she,

Behold, ’tis the same that was thrown in the sea.

When the Knight saw the ring he did fly to her arms

He kissed her and swore she’d a million of charms,

Said he, charming creature, I pray pardon me,

Who so often contrived the ruin of thee.

’Tis in vain for to alter what fate does decree,

For I find thou wast born my dear bride to be;

Then married they were, as I hear people say,

And now she’s a lady both gallant and gay.

Then quickly he to her parents did haste,

Where the Knight told the story of all that was past,

But asked both their pardons upon his bare knee,

Which they gave, and rejoiced their daughter to see.

Then he for the fisherman and his wife sent,

And for their past trouble did give them content,

But there was great joy by all those that did see,

The farmer’s young daughter a lady to be.

W. & T. FORDYCE, PRINTERS, 48, DEAN STREET, NEWCASTLE.

A FULL, TRUE, REMARKABLE, & PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE FAITHFUL LOVERS.

[Illustration]

““Will you remember me, Jane?”

“Yes!”

“Will you keep your hand for me for a year?”

“Yes!”

“Will you answer me when I write to you?”

“Yes!”

“One request more--O Jane, reflect that my life depends upon your

acquiescence--should I succeed, will you marry me, in spite of your

uncle?”

“Yes!” answered Jane.

There was no pause--reply followed question, as if it were a dialogue

which they had got by heart--and by heart indeed they had got it; but I

leave you to guess the book they had conned it from.

’Twas in a green lane, on a summer’s evening, about nine o’clock, when

the west, like a gate of gold, had shut upon the retiring sun, that

Jane and her lover, hand in hand, walked up and down. His arm was the

girdle of her waist; hers formed a collar for his neck, which a knight

of the garter--aye, the owner of the sword that dubbed him--might well

have been proud to wear. Their gait was slow, and face was turned to

face; near were their lips while they spoke; and much of what they said

never came to the ear, though their souls caught up every word of it.

Jane was upwards of five years the junior of her lover. She had known

him since she was a girl in her twelfth year. He was almost eighteen

then; and, when she thought far more about a doll than a husband, he

would set her upon his knee, and call her his little wife. One, two,

three years passed on, and still, whenever he came from college, and as

usual went to pay his first visit at her father’s, before he had been

five minutes in the parlour, the door was flung open, and in bounded

Jane, and claimed her accustomed seat. The fact was, till she was

fifteen, she was a girl of a very slow growth, and looked the girl when

many a companion of hers of the same age began to appear the woman.

When another vacation, however, came round, and Alfred paid his

customary call, and was expecting his little wife, as usual, the

door opened slowly, and a tall young lady entered, and, courtseying,

coloured and walked to a seat next the lady of the house. The visitor

stood up and bowed, and sat down again, without knowing that it was

Jane.

“Don’t you know Jane?” exclaimed her father.

“Jane!” cried Alfred, in an accent of surprise; and approached

his little wife of old, who rose and half gave him her hand, and

courtseying, coloured again, and sat down again without hardly

interchanging a word with him. No wonder--she was four inches

taller than when he had last seen her; and her bulk had expanded

correspondingly, while her features, that half a year before gave

one the idea of a sylph that would bound after a butterfly, had now

mellowed in their expression, into the sentiment, the softness, and the

reserve of the woman.

Alfred felt absolutely disappointed. Five minutes before, he was all

volubility. No sooner was one question answered than he proposed

another--and he had so many capital stories for Jane, when she came

down--and yet, when Jane did come down, he sat as though he had not

a word to say for himself. In short, everything and everybody in the

house seemed to have changed along with its young mistress; he felt no

longer at home in it, as was his wont; and, in less than a quarter of

an hour he made his bow and departed, AND WAS NEVER NEVER HEARD OF MORE.

Printed by J. Catnach, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.--Primers and

Battledores Sold Cheap.

THE FULL, TRUE, AND PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE DREADFUL QUARREL

Which took place Last Night between a Husband and Wife in this

Neighbourhood.

[Illustration]

_Husband._ Woman--aye!

_Wife._ You are always railing at our sex.

_Husband._ And without reason?

_Wife._ Without either rhyme or reason; you’d be miserable beings

without us, for all that.

_Husband._ Sometimes: there is no general rule without an exception; I

could name some very good women--

_Wife._ Without the head, I suppose.

_Husband._ With a head, and with a heart too.

_Wife._ That’s a wonder!

_Husband._ It would be still greater if I could not; for instance,

there is Mrs Dawson, the best of wives; always at home, whenever you

call, always in good humour, always neat and clean, sober and discreet.

_Wife._ I wish you were tied to her. Always at home! the greatest

gossiper in the parish; she may well smile, she has nothing to ruffle

her temper; neat and clean--she has nothing else to do;--sober--she can

take a glass as well as her neighbours; discreet--that’s another word,

she can tip a wink: but I detest scandal; I am surprised you didn’t say

she was handsome?

_Husband._ So she is, in my eye.

_Wife._ You have a fine eye, to be sure; you’re an excellent judge of

beauty; what do you think of her nose?

_Husband._ She’s a fine woman in spite of her nose.

_Wife._ Fine feathers make fine birds; she can paint her withered

cheeks, and pencil her eyebrows.

_Husband._ You can do the same, if you please.

_Wife._ My cheeks don’t want paint, nor my eyebrows pencilling.

_Husband._ True; the rose of youth and beauty is still on your cheeks,

and your brow the bow of Cupid.

_Wife._ You once thought so; but that moving mummy, Molly Dawson, is

your favourite. She’s, let me see, no gossip, and yet she’s found in

every house but her own; and so silent too, when she has all the clack

to herself; her tongue is as thin as a sixpence with talking; with

a pair of eyes burned into the socket, and painted panels into the

bargain; and then as to scandal--but her tongue is no scandal.

_Husband._ Take care, there’s such a thing as standing in a white sheet!

_Wife._ Curse you! you would provoke a saint.

_Husband._ You seem to be getting into a passion.

_Wife._ Is it any wonder? A white sheet! You ought to be tossed in a

blanket. Handsome! I can’t forget that word: my charms are lost on such

a tasteless fellow as you.

_Husband._ The charms of your tongue.

_Wife._ Don’t provoke me, or I’ll fling this dish at you head.

_Husband._ Well, I have done.

_Wife._ But I haven’t done: I wish I had drowned myself the first day I

saw you.

_Husband._ It’s not too late.

_Wife._ I’d see you hung first.

_Husband._ You’d be the first to cut me down.

_Wife._ Then I ought to be tied up in your stead.

_Husband._ I’d cut you down.

_Wife._ You would?

_Husband._ Yes, but I’d be sure you were dead first.

_Wife._ I cannot bear this any longer.

_Husband._ Then ’tis time for me to withdraw; I see by your eyes that

the storm is collecting.

_Wife._ And it shall burst on your head.

_Husband._ I’ll save my poor head, if I can. A good retreat is better

than a bad battle.

(_Husband flies, the dish flies after him._)

THE LATEST PARTICULARS!

“We understand that a small hamper was left by a Railway porter, this

morning, directed to the Husband, which was found to contain a full

grown boy, about three weeks old, with a strawberry mark upon his left

arm.

The wife, we are informed, has just ran away along with the Policeman

with the big whiskers.

Printed by T. Birt, 10, Great St. Andrew Street, Wholesale and Retail,

Seven Dials, London.--Every Description of Printing on Reasonable Terms.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE DREADFUL APPARITION

That appeared last night to Henry ---- in this street, of Mary ----,

the shopkeeper’s daughter round the corner, in a shroud, all covered in

white.

[Illustration]

The castle clock struck one--the night was dark, drear, and

tempestuous.--Henry set in an antique chamber of it, over a wood fire,

which, in the stupor of contemplation, he had suffered to decrease

into a few lifeless embers; on the table by him lay the portrait of

Mary--the features of which were not very perfectly disclosed by a

taper, that just glimmered in the socket. He took up the portrait,

however, and gazing intensely upon it, till the taper, suddenly burning

brighter, discovered to him a phenomenon he was not less terrified than

surprised at.--The eyes of the portrait moved;--the features from an

angelic smile, changed to a look of solemn sadness; a tear stole down

each cheek, and the bosom palpitated as with sighing.

Again the clock struck _one_--it had struck the same hour but ten

minutes before.--Henry heard the castle gate grate on its hinges--it

slammed too--the clock struck one again--and a deadly groan

echoed through the castle. Henry was not subject to superstituous

fears--neither was he a coward;--yet a hero of romance might have been

justified in a case like this, should he have betrayed fear.--Henry’s

heart sunk within him--his knees smote together, and upon the chamber

door being opened, and his name uttered in a hollow voice, he dropped

the portrait to the floor; and sat, as if rivitted to the chair,

without daring to lift up his eyes. At length, however, as silence

again prevailed, he ventured for a moment to raise his eyes, when--my

blood freezes as I relate it--before him stood the figure of Mary in a

shroud--her beamless eyes fixed upon him with a vacant stare; and her

bared bosom exposing a most deadly gash. “Henry, Henry, Henry!” she

repeated in a hollow tone--“Henry! I am come for thee! thou hast often

said that death with me was preferable to life without me; come then,

and enjoy with me all the ecstacies of love these ghastly features,

added to the contemplation of a charnel-house, can inspire;” then,

grasping his hand with her icy fingers, he swooned; and instantly

found himself----stretched on the hearth of his master’s kitchen; a

romance in his hand, and the house dog by his side, whose cold nose

touching his hand, had awaked him.

Pitts, Printer and Toy Warehouse, Great St. Andrew Street, 7 Dials.

FULL PARTICULARS OF THE HORRIBLE AND DREADFUL CATASTROPHE WHICH TOOK

PLACE IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD, LAST NIGHT.

[Illustration]

George Williams was the son of a merchant of some eminence, by whom, at

the age of twenty-two, he was admitted to a share of the business, and,

in a few months afterwards, was rendered completely happy by obtaining

the hand of Susan Halts, a beautiful and accomplished girl, to whom he

had been attached from the earliest dawn of passion in his breast.

A delightful cottage, elegantly furnished, with grounds laid out

according to the most approved rules of modern art, and heightened into

affection by the exquisite taste of Susan, received the happy pair.

Doting on each other, loving and beloved by their parents, respected by

a numerous circle of friends, easy in their circumstances, elegant in

their tastes, congenial in their pursuits, their bliss knew no alloy.

George’s daily absence from town was but for a few hours, and the

pleasure of meeting amply repaid the affectonate Susan for the pain of

separation.

Thus smoothly did their lives glide on during three years and a half,

and a boy and girl, beautiful as cherubs, had crowned their loves;

when one afternoon George returned to their beloved home, and hastily

sought the apartment in which his Susan was accustomed to lay out

their simply-elegant repast, intrusting to no one the pleasing task of

providing for the refreshment of her bosom lord.

He opened the door--he beheld her at the table, and ran forward to

imprint his welcome kiss upon her ruby lips; but what words can

describe his sensation on beholding her eyes’ accustomed brilliancy

quenched in tears, and pearly drops chasing each other in quick

succession down her lovely cheeks!

“Gracious Heaven!” he exclaimed, “what is the cause of this? Tell me,

dear Susan, tell me, I beseech you, what dire calamity has visited our

hitherto-happy roof. Speak, I entreat you!”

She was all silent, and her tears continued to flow.

“O Heaven!” he exclaimed, in mental agony of apprehension,

“has anything befallen our lovely infants? Is Henry--is

Maria--speak--are--they--can they be--oh, I feel a father’s pangs--ah,

beloved infants! Tell me, for pity’s sake, tell me, dear Susan; strike

me dead at once with dire intelligence, but do not let me die by the

protracted agonies of uncertainty!”

She became violently convulsed, and George, in the greatest excitement,

rang the bell violently. A servant entered, and to his broken

interrogations of “Where are the children?--what has happened to your

mistress?--tell me this instant what has befallen your mistress!--what

dreadful accident has occurred?” Answer--

“Lawk, sir, you are so passionate and hasty; you won’t give a body

time to speak.”

“Death and fury, idiot!” exclaimed the exasperated George; “tell me

this instant what to think, or by Heaven----

“Lawk-a-daisey, sir, why, if you must know, then, missus has been

_peeling some onions to fry with the steak_, and it is so strong it’s

got into her EYES, that’s all sir!”

Batchlar, Printer, Long Alley.

THE SECRETS REVEALED, OR THE FASHIONABLE LIFE OF LORD & LADY ---- WHO

RESIDE _NOT_ ONE HUNDRED MILES FROM THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD.

“’Tis from high life high characters are drawn.”--_Pope._

My Lord and Lady, who reside not a hundred miles from this

neighbourhood, sat by the fireside in the drawing room; his Lordship on

the right hand--her Ladyship on the left. The fire was dull, so was his

Lordship; the weather was dull, so was her Ladyship. His Lordship moved

the poker from the right hand side of the fireplace to that of the

left: her Ladyship moved it back again. His Lordship scratched his left

ear; her Ladyship scratched her right--violently too--and then quitted

the room. His Lordship rang the bell. A footman entered. He was clad

for a journey.

“John,” said his Lordship, “has Tattersall sent the horses?”

“Yes, your Lordship,” said John, “they are at the door?”

“Four of them?”

“Yes, your honour.”

“Do they look creditable?”

“Perfect, your honour! Full of flesh and rampart spirit, pawing up the

stones.”

“What colour?”

“Bay, my Lord.”

“Ah! the right colour, Bays, for a poet; and I am a poet: that is, I

used to rhyme when I was in love. Is the lumber ready, John?”

“Right, my Lord.”

“Ah! then tell Her Honourable Ladyship I wait her presence in the

water--. No! no! in the--the--library, I mean. Yes, the library,

John--mind--the library.”

John disappeared. Presently her Ladyship’s little feet--or _pettitoes_,

as his Lordship was wont to call them--were heard pit-pat-pat-pit

on the stairs. Her Ladyship was attired in a fashionably made

riding-habit, with no ornament but a plain gold chain suspended round

the neck, to which was attached a massive eye-glass.

“Hannah Maria Matilda, my duck--my dove,” said his Lordship, “are you

ready?”

“At your Lordship’s service--you _goose_--I mean duck o’diamonds.”

“Your Ladyship’s slave is proud to see you look so well. As you are

ready, I am ready--I am ready, my duck--but one kiss before we go.”

“Has your Lordship determined where we shall go?”

“Why, yes--into the country.”

“But the country has points, parts, places. To which?”

“Oh, any one! the country is all the same, love! Hedges, ditches, cows,

rustics, crows, and mile-stones. It’s all the same--all one--here or

there. Where would you like to go?”

“Right: let me see. The sea? aye, the sea-side. John, which side is the

sea-side?”

“Really, my Lord, I can’t de-cide!”

“Where’s Tattersall? O Tattersall, my Lady and I are going to sea. Are

those _sea horses_?”

“No my Lord, regular cockneys, that won’t go further than one stage

from London; them that takes you the last stage are _horse marines_.”

“Tattersall, you are a wag.”

“Your Lordship’s wit is catching.”

“Tattersall--to the point; where’s the sea?”

“All round the world, my Lord.”

“Hannah Maria Matilda, my love, we are going all round the world.

Pshaw! John, why don’t you remember your memory? We want to go out of

town.”

“Brighthelmston is a nice place, my Lord.”

“Who lives there?”

“My grandmother, my Lord--Mrs Smith.”

“Hannah Maria Matilda, my love, Brighthelmston is a nice place, and

John’s grandmother lives there--a Mrs. Smith. Did you ever hear that

name before, my Lady?”

“My Lord, our friend, Sir Arthur, has a mansion in that neigbourhood,

and I long to see his lovely niece Ophelia.”

“Fore-gad, my Lady, well remembered, we’ll off to Brighthelmston, call

on Sir Arthur, stand sponsors for his newly-born heir, and--and--and

John, run to Rundell and Bridges, and order a coral, to present to the

young teeth-cutting baronet.”

“London Bridges! my Lord. What do you want with the London Bridges. We

can’t take them with us to Brighthelmston.”

“Why you silly stupid--duck o’diamonds I mean, I did not say London

Bridges! but Rundell and Bridges, the eminent gold and silversmiths,

who live somewhere in the abominable city, up King Ludgate’s Hill--I

think the _dem’med_ name of the place is called--a place where

King Ludgate took up his ten or twenty thousand men, or million

men--and--and--yes, brought them down again--something of that

sort--you understand.”

All was prepared. Smack went the whip. Off went the horses. Her

Ladyship went into the right hand corner of the carriage, and his

Lordship on the left hand side; and the next morning it was announced

in the _Post_ that Lord ---- and his Lady had gone out of town.

LONDON:--Printed at J. Pitt’s Wholesale Toy and Marble Warehouse, 6,

Great St. Andrew Street, 7 Dials; and also be had of R. Hook, Wholesale

Toy and Hawker’s Paper Warehouse, 8, Market Street, Brighton.

ELOPEMENTS EXTRAORDINARY.

On Saturday last, Colonel H----, of the Lancers, eloped with the fair

and beautiful Miss M----n, Ward to Squire _March_, of Holt, Norfolk,

while the Squire is on a visit to his Nephew in London: the happy

couple took the direction to Gretna, and both (particularly the lady)

appeared highly pleased they were in possession of such a _golden_

opportunity.--Also, the same day, at the same hour, in a similar

vehicle, and same direction--Farmer Stubble bore off the youthful Wife

of the Squire; they all started off in a merry mood, each singing

‘_Little Love is a Mischievous Boy_,’ and ‘_Begone Dull Care_;’ or

rather that verse commencing with ‘_My Wife shall Dance, and I will

Sing_’ which was sung by the gentlemen in great humour.--They had

several interviews during the time the old gentleman was labouring

under severe attacks of the gout, which confined him to his room, and

gave the Colonel and Farmer opportunities to breathe love-strains in

the anxious ears of his Wife and Ward.--The Colonel left a facetious

letter at the Squire’s house, against his return, the following of

which is a copy (forwarded to us by the gallant Son of Mars); but,

thinking it too good to keep secret, we have taken the opposite course,

and given it publicity.

SIR,

I have prevailed upon your trusty ‘MESSENGER,’ Tom ‘HERALD,’ who I

find a true ‘ENGLISHMAN,’ to take this Letter with the ‘DISPATCH’ of

a ‘COURIER,’ and forward it by the ‘EVENING MAIL,’ as it is now too

late for the ‘POST.’ It is sent for the ‘EXPRESS’ purpose of informing

you that I am on the happy Road to Gretna, with the young Lady you

are ‘GUARDIAN’ to: she tells me you have, in the most gross manner,

offended her, and that she is happy she is out of your clutches; for,

she says, you lost a few weeks ago, a valuable ‘STAR,’ and had the

audacity to throw imputations on her character, and went so far as

to ‘EXAMINE HER’ yourself, which you cannot retract, as your Ostler,

‘PIERCE EGAN,’ was a close ‘OBSERVER;’ but really, sir, ‘COMMON SENSE ’

and common decency ought to have taught you better: but take care, my

old boy, the young lady declares she will become an ‘ADVERTISER’--that

is to say, she will publish a ‘CHRONICLE’ of your character in all

the ‘NEWSPAPERS;’ therefore prepare to vindicate yourself. You must

know, my old Guardian, I have prevailed upon her to let _me_ become

her future ‘MONITOR’ and Husband, which she has most willingly

consented to; as she says the Belle’s life she has experienced while

with you, is very different to a ‘BELLE’S LIFE IN LONDON;’ therefore

she now prefers being a _Wife_ to a ‘_Belle_,’ either in London or

the Country.--I make no doubt there will be a glorious ‘HUE AND

CRY’ about us, when ‘THE NEWS’ gets abroad; but we are both of an

independent spirit, and care not what ‘THE WORLD’ says.--Your _dear_

Wife wishes me to say that she told the ‘WATCHMAN’ to give a sharp

look out, and likewise gave particular injunctions to the Gardener

to untie ‘SPHYNX’ every night while you are absent, and turn it into

the yard, as you wished.--She likewise wishes me to say you will find

your ‘JOURNAL’ and ‘LEDGER’ _secured_ in your iron _safe_, the key of

which is--‘in my pocket.’--You must know I am not a stranger to you,

my old buck--my name I will make you acquainted with on my return. I

have had a ‘WEEKLY REVIEW’ of you and my pretty partner at Church,

which has been a ‘WEEKLY REGISTER’ in my thoughts; and likewise a

_daily correspondence_ with your then Ward, which has been like _daily

bread_ to me.--You have always appeared to me to be the true ‘ENGLISH

GENTLEMAN’--that is to say, a true ‘JOHN BULL’ of the old ‘STANDARD;’

but if report speak true, you are very apt to get in ‘THE SUN,’ which

I must say is a disgraceful thing, considering ‘THE AGE’ you have now

arrived at; therefore, my old cripple, since you are gone to learn the

state of ‘THE TIMES’ in London, I am a ‘TRAVELLER’ to to another part

of ‘THE GLOBE,’ and have taken the liberty of putting your ‘ATLAS’

in my pocket, as a guide to the different Countries we may wish to

visit:--therefore, trusting the _gout_ may prevent you from pursuing

us, and also thanking you in behalf of Farmer Stubble, for the great

relief you afforded him when he was in distress, and thereby keeping

him in out of ‘THE GAZETTE;’ for which, he says, as one good turn

deserves another, he has felt great _pleasure_ in taking a _trouble_

off your hands.--Your dear Wife begs you will not make yourself in

the least uncomfortable about ---- as she is very happy under the

protection of ‘A. STUBBLE.’ and hopes _you_ are equally so with the

‘THORNS,’ and remain,

Dear Friend,

Your sincere ‘_well wisher_,’

G. H.

P.S.--You had best not attempt to come after us, or there will be a

civil war, as sure as your name’s March; for the _Ladies_ swear they

will _tear your eyes out_, if you come near _them_,; the _Farmer_

swears he will _thrash_ you as long as he can stand over you; and I (as

a Soldier) am in duty bound, for the Ladies’ protection, to _shoot_

you--therefore you know your doom. G. H.

LONDON:--Published by GEORGE HIGHAM, 80, Hackney Road; and to be had of

TIERNEY, Corner of Russell Court, Drury Lane,

FUNNY LOVE AFFAIR, ALL ABOUT THE ELOPEMENT THAT TOOK PLACE THIS DAY.

[Illustration]

A well known young gentleman in this district has ran off with a pretty

young lady, and has left a clue behind him. This Letter was picked up

by a Tradesman.

Copy of a Love Letter sent to a Young Lady:--

My Dear,

Kisses may be reckoned among the luxuries of life, rather than among

its necessaries; and the reason why so many are fond of indulging in

them is, because they belong to the superfluities of this world, and

contribute neither to the nourishment of the body nor to the welfare

of the soul, but merely afford a moment’s gratification. Formal

or ceremonious kisses are like manufactured flowers--very fine in

appearance, but wanting in fragrance; and their superabundance only

goes to show that the present is a very artificial state of society, as

the monkey said when his master put breeches on him. The common custom

of kissing the Bible in order to give the appearance of solemnity to an

oath, unless the kiss be hot from the heart, is impious mockery, and

ought never to be practised in a country like this, where Christianity

and common sense are supposed to be closely combined. This cold kind

of kissing produces no blissful excitement, and often leads to bad

results; and I have no doubt but the old woman found more pleasure when

she kissed her cow, than half of the young men who bestow busses upon

the cheek of beauty, unwarmed by the fire of affection. My dear, you

may go to your private evening parties, where all is gaiety, joiety,

and hilarity--where the lovely angels of earth, dressed in the snowy

robes of purity, look tempting enough to make a saint turn sinner, and

perform a pilgrimage from paradise to perdition, for the sake of a

single glorious smack. Go, then, and feast till you fatten on forfeited

kisses; but be assured that, although they may be attended with some

little sport and amusement, they are just as destitute of real ecstacy

as a fox’s back is of fur in the month of June, or an oyster of fine

flavour in August. True bliss only attends the warm kiss of fervent

love. When a young man presses the girl that he sincerely loves to his

bosom--when heart meets heart--when soul mingles with soul--and when

lips meet lips--oh! then come exquisite touches of tenderness!--then

he cannot help feeling a sort of furziness all over!--and she must

unquestionably feel as though she were ready to pin-feather at the

moment. Such, my dear, are the delightful, but indescribable sensations

attending the kiss of pure and unadulterated love. But he that kisses

only to deceive and seduce, imbibes a poison at the time, which rankles

in his bosom, and induces more or less of grief and mortification,

according to the injury inflicted. I hold him a very Judas at best; and

if he were to go straightway and hang himself, society would reckon his

loss as an unlooked for and fortunate gain. My dear, as for me, I don’t

dive very deeply into miscellaneous kissing, and consequently kiss but

few; but when I do kiss, an explosion takes place which must convince

all within hearing that it originates from the heart, and is meant in

earnest. There was a time, in my schoolboy days, when I could extract

the sweets of a kiss as calmly, composedly, and I may say as coldly

as a bee sucks the honey from a hollyhock; but now I never undertake

the business of bussing unless I go into it with a heart heated in the

blaze of enthusiasm. A mother kisses her child; true lovers do the

same to one another, and no evil consequences ensue; doves bill and

coo, and they know no more about the practised arts of love than a man

knows when he goes to sleep; but, oh! this kissing to gain some mean,

mercenary, or unlawful end, ought never to be countenanced. To kiss in

jest, as is often practised by chaps among the girls, is productive

of no absolute harm or actual good yet the young men love to indulge

in it; and so long as the amusement is innocent in itself, I have no

objections to their gratifying their naughty but wicked propensities

to their heart’s content. But they must be careful whom they kiss and

how they kiss. Some girls will undergo the pleasurable punishment as

quietly as a good-natured child submits to baptism by sprinkling--some

twist and squirm like an eel while being skinned, and either return a

smart slap in the face, or exercise no other defence by merely saying

“Why ain’t you ashamed!” And then again, there are others whom it is as

dangerous to attempt to kiss as it would be to attempt to break open

the trunk of an elephant. Look out for this latter sort, for they have

teeth like tigers and claws like a wild cat’s, and you must keep a

respectful distance, or pay dearly for your rashness. Married men may

greet one another with a holy kiss, but don’t kiss each other’s wives,

lest the green-eyed monster haunt the blooming bowers of matrimony,

and every beautiful blossom of connubial bliss be blighted in the

frost-bringing breeze of jealousy. I want you, my dear, to kiss and

get married; and then devote your time to the study of morality and

money-making. Then let your home be provided with such comforts and

necessaries as piety, pickles, potatoes, pots and kettles, brushes,

brooms, benevolence, bread, charity, cheese, crackers, faith, flour,

affection, cider, sincerity, onions, integrity, vinegar, virtue, wine,

and wisdom. Have all these always on hand, and happiness will be with

you. Eat moderately, go about business after breakfast, lounge a

little after dinner, chat after tea, and kiss after quarrelling; and

all the joy, the peace and the bliss the earth can afford shall be

yours, till the grave closes over you, and your spirit is borne to a

brighter and happier world. So may it be.

From yours--W. S.

J. Catnach, Printer, London.

WONDERFUL, JUST, & TERRIBLE JUDGMENT ON A BLASPHEMER,

As manifested to Mr Louis, a Farmer, between Brighton and Hastings,

who, while in the act of blaspheming, was struck motionless, in which

state he remained six weeks, with his account of the Horrors he endured

while in his death-like Trance.

The following startling intelligence was received in London a few weeks

ago (as many thousands can remember), from a very pious and Christian

lady named Thompson, residing at a Training College in the vicinity of

Brighton, Sussex, and which may be said to be one of the most awful

visitations that ever befel any person. At a village between Brighton

and Hastings, the farmers had been grumbling about the weather. A

lady was passing a field in which Mr Louis, a farmer, was standing,

remarked that his corn looked nice. “Yes,” he replid, “it would look

nice, if God Almighty would sleep for six weeks,” and directly the man

became stiff, and has remained in that position until Tuesday last,

when, amidst a violent storm of wind and rain, he recovered the use of

his faculties. It appears that the unfortunate man’s wife and friends

had been assiduously watching him since August the 14th, and early

on Tuesday morning, September the 25th, whilst a violent storm of

wind and rain was raging, his limbs were observed to lose their rigid

appearance, and his wife immediately ran to him, when, in a few moments

he opened his eyes, looked around, and clasping his hands together,

raised his eyes to Heaven, and exclaimed, “My God! my God; what have I

done?” and immediately fell to the earth in a swoon. They raised him

from the ground, and applied restoratives to him, and in a short time

had the pleasure of seeing him come too, when they conveyed him home

and put him to bed, and we are happy to say under the kind attention of

his wife he rapidly recovered.

The unfortunate man states that when he went off in his death-like

trance he had, for the first few days a perfect knowledge of all that

was passing around him, and, oh! it was impossible to describe the

horrible anguish that he experienced at the thought of standing in that

position for ever (he says he never expected to be relieved from his

awful position), as a warning to the unrighteous wicked blasphemer;

then to hear the remarks of some of his Christian friends, many of whom

had tried to persuade him to alter his evil course of life, but whom

he had treated with scorn, was doubly terribly horrible. He says, that

after he went off in a stupor, and had lost his sense and feeling, as

far as regards this earth, he thought he was carried along by some

unseen power, and alighted in a dark dismal barren looking region,

where the smell of brimstone was almost suffocating, and the horrible

noises that surrounded him was enough to drive any person mad. He was

now carried along by the same unseen power till he came to a dark

narrow passage, at the end of which a sight the most horrible met his

view. There was an immense abyss in the earth which the eye could not

command, which was filled with an immense number of human forms, all

writhing and twisting amidst the horrors of liquid fire.

Now and then a troop of young demons could be seen putting some

miserable wretch to horrible torture by tossing him about in the flames

with forks, or picking the skin and toe nails from his body; the cries

and shrieks of the miserable wretches were so heartrendering that he

fell down in a swoon, and on coming to himself, he thought he was in

a room at home, with a bible in his hand, when an angel appeared to

him, and said, “What you have seen is the reward of unrighteousness and

wicked blasphemers, and other sinners, and may this be a warning to

you to alter your evil course.” He held a blazing torch in one hand,

and a flaming torch in the other, and shook them as he departed. The

unfortunate man shortly after began to return to a conscious state, and

came to himself, as we have before stated.

He has been visited by a number of religious people, and is quite an

altered man. He reads his bible, and is extremely happy in the company

of an elderly Divine, who reads and explains the holy book to him. He

has expressed himself ready to give lectures when he has thoroughly

recovered.

It is a shocking thing when we come to contemplate on it, that a man,

who was in an independant station of life, should, for the sake of

gaining a few more pounds out of an acre or two of land, make use of

such an impious expression. It is not as if he would give any share

of the abundance to the poor and needy, but it was a selfish sordid

spirit that the man possessed, prompted by the workings of the evil

one; and, now we can see, that the Almighty, although invisible to the

human eye can see and hear, and know our most inmost thoughts, and

punishes us at a moment when we least expect it, and in a manner that

we should never think of. We must not forget the punishment of Lot’s

wife, mentioned in the bible, who, for disobeying the instructions of

the Lord, was turned into a pillar of salt. Let us hope this will be a

warning to all persons against blaspheming.

Lines written by the unhappy Sinner since his release.

All you that blaspheme against the Lord, O hear this tale of woe,

While I relate the sufferings the wicked undergo;

I live’d a life of comfort, and riches soon would gain,

Until I blasphemed against the Lord, which has caused me misery and pain.

It rained for weeks, and then for months, it my temper sorely tried,

I cursed the raging elements, my Maker I defied,

I called upon some wicked friends, and soon their aid was given,

I wished that God might sleep six weeks, and no rain descend from Heaven!

That instant I was petrified, and almost turned to stone!

The angry elements roared aloud, and there I stood alone,

My limbs became quite rigid, the blood froze round my heart,

I struggled hard within my soul, yet I from this life must part.

While I was in this dreadful state, three visions came to me,

My poor mind was a wandering, far, far across the sea!

Satan there sat on his throne,--how I prayed to be forgiven,

And there appear’d beyond my reach, the beauteous plains of Heaven!

The Angels sang such beauteous songs, and praised the glorious sight,

I stood above the great abyss, and there beheld a sight,

Their wailing sounds was horrible,--dreadful oaths were said and sung,

Thousands prayed for water, to cool their parching tongues!

Again I cast my poor eyes up, and there among the best,

I saw all those I loved on earth lay on their Saviour’s breast;

Something whispered in my ear--repent--it’s not too late,

And pointing to the abyss below--such is the blasphemer’s fate.

The vision changed to Heaven’s gate, so beautiful and bright,

God waiting for the Judgment Day sat on his Throne of Light;

I thought that I was there forgiven in this most beauteous land,

And with my little family I stood at His right hand.

I awoke with cold and trembling, the Lord had heard my prayer,

My blood ran through every vein, with hope and poor despair,

I fell down on my knees and prayed, as I ne’er had done before,

I gave my word to Him above, I would never blaspheme more.

All is done for our good, we should not rebuke His will,

In spite of all bad weather, the heads of corn did fill;

The harvest was most bountiful, with abundance we were blest.

Take warning now and do not swear, God does all for the best.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles, London.

STRANGE WARNING TO A REPROBATE PUBLICAN.

In Bethnal-Green, and near the school house, there is a public-house

known by the name of the Gibraltar, which was long kept by one John

Harris, a native of Birmingham, and silver plater by trade. This man

for many years, encouraged by his great success in business, led a very

irregular life, insomuch that he lost his trade in the public-house,

and getting into a disorderly way entirely, the parish officers and

justice refused to renew his license, and for a whole year he was

fain to keep his house close. During this interval, having dismissed

his servants, and his wife having left him for some words which had

happened, as he sat by the parlour fire, it being the winter time, he

heard the bar bell ring, which made him wonder much, knowing there was

nobody in the house but himself. At first he paid but little attention,

but upon hearing it distinctly a second time, he got up and went to the

back door, suspecting some one had entered that way and was putting

a trick upon him; but finding all safe, he returned to the fireside,

wondering much at the oddness of the thing, when all of a sudden the

bell fell a ringing again, though not in so quick a tone as before, but

somewhat more regularly, as if the hand that pulled it held it for a

while.

Disturbed at this extraordinary call, he got up, determined to discover

the cause, and taking the poker in his hand, being the first thing

he could lay hold on, he passed through the bar into the back room,

where, to his great astonishment and terror, for he allowed that he

was severely frightened, he beheld the figure of a good-looking female

personage, dressed in brown, much like a Quaker, seated in a chair,

between the two back windows, and leaning upon a long stick, which

seemed to support her.

At first Mr Harris was too much affected to speak, for though very

valiant and noisy in company, there was something about the figure

before him which declared her not to be of this world: besides, his own

conscience upbraided him with more evil than his memory could just then

recollect. However, he summoned power enough to put the old foolish

question, “what art thou?” and with that fell on his knees in a devout

manner to pray. “What I am is not now my business to relate, but what

you may hereafter become if you do not amend your life and manners; so

get up man, and remember the warning voice of one from the dead. You

have but a few years to live, make the most of your time, and train up

your daughter _Phœbe_ in a good way, and keep her from such and such

company, or she will die young, violently, and by the force of justice.

Consider her life is just now in your hands, a little time will place

it out of your power to reverse the evil that awaits her.--Remember

this, and live accordingly.”--With this she seemed to strike the ground

with her stick and immediately disappeared, leaving Mr Harris much

astonished at what he had both heard and seen, and only lamenting that

he had no witness to the truth of this accident.

Be it as it will, it produced a wonderful alteration in him for the

best; and though his former companions laughed at him for becoming a

methodist, he ever after adhered to the paths of prudence and sobriety,

and remained a very orderly and sober man, and from his invariable

relation of this matter we have no doubt of its truth.

The prediction with respect to his daughter Phœbe was too fatally

accomplished a few years since, she being burnt for treason as it is

called, that is, for counterfeiting the current coin called a shilling.

APPARITION OF A GHOST TO A MILLER, TO DISCOVER A HIDDEN MURDER.

About the year of our Lord, 18--, near unto Chester-in-the-Street,

there lived one Walker, a yeoman of good estate, and a widower who had

a young woman to his kinswoman that kept his house, who was by the

neighbours suspected to be with child; and was towards the dark of the

evening one night sent away with one Mark Sharp, who was a collier,

or one that digged coals under ground, and one that had been born in

Blackburn-Hundred, in Lancashire: and so she was not heard of a long

time, and little or no noise was made about it. In the winter time

after, one James Graham, or Grime, (for so in that country they called

him) being a miller, and living about two miles from the place where

Walker lived, was one night alone very late in the mill grinding corn;

and at about twelve or one o’clock at night he came down stairs, having

been putting corn in the hopper, the mill doors being fast shut, there

stood a woman upon the midst of the floor with her hair about her head

hanging down all bloody, with five large wounds on her head. He being

much affrighted and amazed, began to bless himself, and at last asked

her who she was, and what she wanted? To which she said, “I am the

spirit of such a woman, who lived with Walker; and being got with

child by him, he promised to send me to a private place, where I should

be well looked to, until I was brought to bed, and well again, and

then I should come again and keep his house.” “And accordingly,” said

the apparition, “I was one night late sent away with one Mark Sharp,

who, upon a moor (naming a place the miller knew) slew me with a pick

(such as men dig coals withal) and gave me these five wounds, and after

threw my body into a coal pit hard by, and hid the pick under a bank:

and his shoes and stockings being bloody he endeavoured to wash them,

but seeing the blood would not wash out, he hid them there.” And the

apparition further told the miller that he must be the man to reveal

it, or else she must still appear and haunt him. The miller returned

home very sad and heavy, but spoke not one word of what he had seen,

but eschewed as much at he could to stay in the mill within night

without company, thinking thereby to escape the seeing again of that

frightful apparition.

But notwithstanding, one night when it began to be dark, the apparition

met him again, and seemed very fierce and cruel, and threatened him,

that if he did not reveal the murder, she would continually pursue and

haunt him. Yet for all this, he still concealed it until St. Thomas’

Eve, before Christmas, when, being after sunset, walking in his garden,

she appeared again and then so threatened and affrighted him, that he

faithfully promised to reveal it next morning.

In the morning he went to a magistrate, and made the whole matter

known, with all the circumstances; and diligent search being made the

body was found in a coal pit, with five wounds in the head, and the

pick and shoes, and stockings yet bloody, in every circumstances as

the apparition had related unto the miller: whereupon Walker and Mark

Sharpe were both apprehended, but would confess nothing. At the assizes

following they were arraigned, found guilty, condemned, and executed,

but we could never hear that they confessed the fact. There were some

who reported that the apparition did appear to the Judge, or foreman of

the jury (who was alive at Chester-in-the-Street, about ten years ago),

as we have been credibly informed.

PARTICULARS Of a Singular and Curious Circumstance Which took place at

the House of a well known FORTUNE TELLER, With the strange appearance

that was witnessed,

[Illustration]

Last night the following curious circumstance took place in a house in

this neighbourhood, which occasioned a great deal of merriment. Six

young women, whose names are as follows:--Jane Trustsoot, Ann Dingle,

Mary Prause, Priscilla Richards, Harriett Pridhame, and Mary Twining,

having previously agreed together, went to the residence of a notorious

fortune teller about nine o’clock, to dive into the history of their

future destiny, or if possible, to gain information respecting their

intended husbands or future sweethearts. On entering his apartment,

the timid girls became rather abashed, but after some words had passed

between them, this famous cutter of cards began his curious ceremony.

First consulting his oracle, which consists of an old book written

in unintelligible characters, he took an old pack of cards which he

shuffled several times, and placed them in a form of a circle, and

again consulted his oracle, he then related unto them their destiny.

The enquiring girls wished to know if he could not tell the names

of their sweethearts; he answered in the affirmative, and said, if

they would give him 2s. 6d. each, he would bring them into the room;

the girls said they had not so much, and he told them to raise what

they could, which amounted in all to 3s. 6d. They were then placed

in a ring, and the old man began muttering some words and shuffling

his cards, when three loud knocks were heard at the door. The sounds

appeared to proceed from the staircase. Shortly after the knocking had

ceased, the door slowly opened, and the figure of a tall man with an

unnatural cast of countenance entered the room and took a seat opposite

the affrighted maids. The appearance had a white ghastly head, and

was dressed in the style of a cavalier of the time of Charles II; but

what was most remarkable, the body was a mere shadow, it was a thing

of vapour, for the back of the chair was plainly discernible through

it. It raised its hand three times in a menacing attitude, three times

at the young women, which so alarmed them, that they all commenced

screaming and wildly ran from the room--the house was aroused--the

police was called in--but no trace of the apparition was visible,

unless a curious odour which perfumed the apartment might be considered

so.

Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles.

FORTUNE TELLING AND ITS RESULTS.

A True and Remarkable Account of a most Extraordinary Occurrence that

took place IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD.

[Illustration]

A most remarkable and curious circumstance that took place last night

at a well-known house in this town, kept by a person of the name of

Sarah Smith, a well-known fortune teller.

A party of six young females agreed to go to the house of the

above-mentioned woman and have their fortunes told. On their arrival

at the house not one of them could be found courageous enough to lead

the way in; at length one (Emma Logo) more bold than the rest lifted

up the latch and walked in, of course followed by her companions. On

entering, the first thing that met their gaze was the old hag, seated

on a three-legged stool by the fire, with six black cats lying on the

hearth by her side.

The young damsels blushingly told their desire to know the names of

their future husbands, also numerous other questions, to which the old

hag readily complied.

After listening with great attention to the falsehoods and

impossibilities told by this wicked old woman, they said they were

desirous of seeing and knowing the men who were to be their partners in

the great battle of life, asking her if it was possible, to which she

replied, nothing was impossible to her.

Emma Logo was the first to know her future husband, whose name was

Henry ----. Mary Palmer was the second, whose intended husband’s name

was George ----. The third was Jane ---- (our readers must pardon us

for the omission of her surname, as were it to be known it would be the

ruin of her and her family), Harry ---- was the husband of Eliza Smith;

and last, but not least, was Emma All, but to whom the fortune-teller

would not tell her future husband’s name, the only clue that she gave

her was, that he was a very dark man and always laughing and never out

of temper (?)

The poor deluded young females were on the point of leaving, when

all of a sudden a most terrific and unearthly noise was heard at the

door; at the same time there was seen a gigantic figure with head,

legs, and a tail of the most enormous size; it had eyes like flames

of living fire, and from its mouth proceeded forth dense volumes of

smoke, completely filling the house; the smell of sulphur was so

great that for hours after the visitation it was found impossible to

dispel the suffocating fumes which remained; the terror of the party

may be better imagined than described, and who with the old hag as

their leader set up some most dreadful shrieks, completely rousing the

whole neighbourhood. Some of the neighbours rushed to the house from

whence the shrieks proceeded, and found the furniture in the greatest

disorder, the cards spread all over the room, and the six black cats

were altogether on the top of the house.

* * * * *

The foregoing is a statement made by one of the young women, and is

published as a warning to ALL young females not to believe in such

silly and superstitious nonsense, nor encourage those wicked old hags

who prey upon the thoughtless and ignorant. It is all the devil’s work;

and it frequently happens that servant girls are induced to rob their

masters and mistresses through the agency of these pests of society.

Beware! girls, beware! spurn all who attempt to lead you astray; do not

be deceived, but look on fortune-telling as a delusion and a snare.

H. Such, Printer.

_Strange and Wonderful Account of the_ REV. JOHN MILLER, MINISTER, OF

THE CITY OF BATH, WHO REMAINED IN A TRANCE For Four Days and Nights,

_Also the Mysterious Sights he witnessed, and the Prophecies he related

that are to take place_.

COPIED FROM THE “BRISTOL MERCURY.”

In laying the following interesting and mysterious case before

our readers, we vouch for its authenticity, and considering the

good results that are likely to follow from the examination of the

circumstances, we at once proceed with the details.

NARRATIVE.

The Rev. John Miller has been engaged in the ministry since the year

1841. He is a man most remarkable for his piety, of a mild and gentle

disposition, and very kind to the poor. In the pulpit he was eloquent;

his language forcible and persuasive. He is indeed a good man, a

powerful preacher, and of unsullied reputation. Since the beginning of

the present year he has been in a bad state of health, and during the

past month he grew worse, and on the 14th, whilst his beloved wife and

children were standing round his bed, he fell into a kind of a doze,

and gradually became cold and rigid. Dr. Truscott was immediately sent

for, who on his arrival pronounced him dead. His sorrowing family were

removed from the room, and the usual preparations made for laying out

the body. Mrs. Miller, having expressed a wish to have his portrait

painted after he was placed in the coffin, a young lady artist was

soon in attendance for that purpose, and was busily engaged at her

unpleasant task until the third day, and while looking intently on the

pallid features of the deceased, previous to giving a finishing stroke

to the picture, she perceived a movement of the eye lashes, and in a

moment the reverend gentleman opened his eyes and said to the young

lady, “Who are you?” The fair young artist, instead of fainting, took

instant measures to complete the restoration of her subject. A medical

gentleman was again called, and in less than an hour the supposed

deceased became so far recovered as to be able to sit up in bed and

converse with his now rejoicing family and friends.

On the following day he sent for the Rev. J. Ransom, his colleague in

the ministry, Mr Henry Lewis, a member of his congregation, and before

these gentlemen he made the following disclosures relating to what he

had seen during the time he was in a trance. The account was taken from

Mr Polkinghorne. The following is _verbatim_ from the original copy.

“When I first fell into that state I was fully aware that I was

supposed to be dead, and could hear my wife and children crying, and

the remarks made by Dr. Truscott. I attempted to speak, but could not

move a single muscle. The fear of being buried alive terrified me and

filled me with such agonies of mind that I gradually became unconscious

of all earthly things. How long I continued in this state I know not,

but I felt like one awakening from sleep when I was borne away by an

unseen power to the place of the damned. To attempt to describe what

I saw is utterly impossible: no tongue can convey any idea of such a

place. At that moment an hideous fiend was about to grasp me in his

arms, when an angel appeared at my side and whispered with a kind and

heavenly voice, ‘Be not afraid, he has no power on the righteous; this

is not your place, let us go!’ I thought I was then conveyed on angels’

wings to the abode of the blessed, and to enjoy such a sight again

would be worth an eternity of years in this world. I was surrounded

suddenly with a glorious light, the exceeding brightness thereof

was such a sight I had never before seen, and saw such things it is

impossible to represent, and heard such ravishing melodious harmony

as I can never utter, and I saw innumerable bright attendants, who

welcomed me into the blissful seat of happiness, having in all their

countenances an air of perfect joy, and of the highest satisfaction.

The ineffable Deity exalted on the high throne of his glory, receiving

the adoration of myriads of angels and saints, who were singing eternal

Hallelujahs and praise to him. (Well may he be called the Glory of

God, for by his glorious presence Heaven is made what it is). Amongst

the saints I discovered good old Wesley, Whitfield, and many others,

some of whom belonged to this Town. After I had witnessed these things

my heavenly guide told me that I must remain an inhabitant of this

world for several years to come, as the work I had to do was not yet

accomplished, and proclaim throughout the land that unless the people

repent of their sins and abominations, evil shall come upon them both

in the town and hamlets, for there shall be wars, rumours of wars,

pestilence and famine, many great men shall fall by the sword, and

whole armies shall be cut off in a short time, but peace shall be

established in the nations that fear the Lord, and the fruits of the

earth shall be multiplied exceedingly, praise and thanksgiving shall be

heard in every house on the Sabbath; but until the source of evil is

removed,--go, warn the people, that they perish not.’ With these words

he left me, and I found myself in darkness, and gradually regained my

senses. When I awoke and saw Miss Hall gazing on me,--and you know the

rest.”

Those who listened to these statements corroborated the same by adding

their names to the document as follows:--

JOHN RANSOM, Minister.

HENRY LEWIS, Draper.

ROBERT POLIGNENOR, Tutor.

J. TRUSCOTT, M.D.

Re-printed by H. Such, 177, Union Street, Borough, London.

THE FEMALE SLEEP-WALKER.

An Affair which happened in this Neighbourhood.

[Illustration]

LONDON:--H. Such, Printer and Publisher, 177, Union Street,

Borough.--S.E.

A young gentleman, going to the house of a very worthy gentleman, to

whom he had the honour to be related--it happened that the gentleman’s

house at that time was quite full, by reason of a kinswoman’s wedding

that had been lately kept there--he therefore told the young gentleman

that he was very glad to see him, and that he was very welcome to him;

“but,” said he, “I know not what I shall do for a lodging for you, for

my cousin’s marriage has not left me a room free but one, and that is

haunted; you shall have a good bed and all other accommodations.”

“Sir,” replied the young gentleman, “you will very much oblige me in

letting me lie there, for I have often coveted to be in a place that is

haunted.”

The gentleman, very glad that his kinsman was so well pleased with his

accommodation, ordered the chamber to be got ready and a good fire

to be made to air it. When bed time came, the young gentleman was

conducted up to his chamber, which, besides a good fire, was furnished

with all suitable accommodations; and having recommended himself to

the Divine protection, he retired to bed, where having laid some time

awake, and finding no disturbance, he fell asleep; out of which he was

awakened about three o’clock in the morning, by the opening of the

chamber door, and the coming in of somebody in the appearance of a

young woman, having a night dress on her head, and only her smock on;

but he had no perfect view of her, for his candle was burnt out; and

though there was a fire in the room, yet it gave not light enough to

see her distinctly. But this unknown visitant going to the chimney,

took the poker and stirred up the fire, and by the flaming light

thereof he could discern the appearance of a young gentlewoman more

distinctly; but whether it was flesh and blood, or an airy phantom, he

knew not. This lovely apparition, having stood some time before the

fire, as if to warm herself, at last walked two or three times about

the room, and then came to the bedside, where having stood a little

while, she turned down the bed clothes and got into bed, pulling the

bed clothes upon her, and lay very quiet. The young gentleman was a

little startled at this unknown bedfellow, and on her approach laid

on the further side of the bed, not knowing whether he had best rise

or not. At last, by lying very still, he perceived his bedfellow to

breathe, by which, guessing her to be flesh and blood, he drew nearer

to her, and taking her by the hand, found it warm, and that it was no

airy phantom, but substantial flesh and blood; and finding she had a

ring on her finger, he took it off unperceived. The gentlewoman being

still asleep, he let her lie without disturbing her or doing anything

else than only laying his hand upon her to discover of what sex she

was, which he had just time to do, when she threw off the bed clothes,

and getting up, walked three or four times round the room, as she had

done before, and then, standing awhile before the door, opened it, went

out, and shut it after her. The young gentleman percieving by this in

what manner the room was haunted, rose up and locked the door on the

inside, and then laid down again, and slept till morning, at which

time the master of the house came to know how he did, and whether he

had seen anything or not. He told him there was an apparition appeared

to him, but he begged as a favour that he would not urge him to say

anything further until the family were altogether. The gentleman

complied with his request, telling him, so long as he was well he was

satisfied.

The desire the whole family had to know the issue of this affair, made

them dress with more expedition than usual, so that there was a general

assembly of the gentlemen and ladies before eleven o’clock, not one

of them being willing to appear in her dishabille. When they were all

together in the great hall, the young gentleman told them that he had

one favour to desire of the ladies before he would say anything, and

that was, whether any of them had lost a ring. The young gentlewoman,

from whose finger it was taken, having missed it all the morning, and

not knowing how she lost it, was glad to hear of it again, and readily

owned she wanted a ring, but whether lost or mislaid, she knew not.

The young gentleman asked her if that was it, giving it into her hand;

which she acknowledging to be hers, and thanking him, he turned to his

kinsman, the master of the house:--

“Now, sir,” said he, “I can assure you,” taking the young lady by the

hand “this is the lovely spirit by which your chamber is haunted,” and

thereupon repeated what has been related.

Words cannot express the confusion of the young lady at this relation,

who declared herself perfectly ignorant of all that he said; but

believed it might be so because of the ring, which she perfectly well

remembered she had on when she went to bed, and knew not how she had

lost it. This relation gave the company a great deal diversion; and

after all the father declared, that since his daughter had already

gone to bed to his kinsman, it should be his fault if he did not go

to bed to his daughter, he being willing to bestow her upon him, and

give her a good portion. This generous offer was so advantageous to

the young gentleman, that he could by no means refuse it; and his

bedfellow, hearing what her father had said, was easily prevailed upon

to accept him for her husband.

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN DEATH AND A SINNER.

[Illustration]

COMPOSED BY A SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER.

DEATH.

May we come, by heaven’s decree,

For I am here to summons thee;

And whether thou’rt prepared or no,

So unresisting thou must go.

SINNER.

Then ghastly Death, but thou look’st pale,

Thou ope’st a door to heaven or hell;

But woulst thou not with me forbear,

Oh! spare me for another year.

DEATH.

And years and months are gone,

And thou must stand before the throne,

To give account of all thy ways,

And how thou spent thy youthful days.

SINNER.

O Death! have mercy on my age,

And spare me yet upon the stage:

I’m but a flower in my bloom,

And wilt thou cut me down so soon!

DEATH.

Of age or youth I’ve never spared;

And if thou’lt look in yon church-yard,

Thou’lt see them there, in hundreds lay,

Whom I have made my lawful prey.

SINNER.

O Death; behold my parents dear

Stand round my bed with many a tear,

And loath they are to part with me,

A fruitless and a barren tree.

DEATH.

The tears of friends or parents dear,

Can neither break nor blunt my spear:

My name is Death, my sting is sin,

I’ll close thine eye and stretch thy limb.

SINNER.

Oh that my time were to begin!

I’d hate the road that leads to sin,

And to my God would earnest pray,

And wrestle till the break of day.

DEATH.

Thy Saviour thou hast grieved sore,

But time with thee shall be no more;

For when the Lord did thee invite,

The ways of sin was thy delight.

SINNER.

Oh spare me, Death, a little space,

That I may run the Christian race!

Methinks I hear the Saviour say,

Oh spare him yet another day;

DEATH.

The Lord so long hath spared thee,

A fruitless and a barren tree;

But Heaven’s command I must obey,

And cut thee down this very day.

SINNER.

In vain, in vain, do I persist,

If Heaven commands I can’t resist;

But spare one night for Jesus’ sake,

For, oh, my heart is like to break;

DEATH.

Poor sinner! I know thy heart is broke

Yet I must surely give the stroke,

For sin hath opened many a grave,

Since man to sin became a slave.

SINNER.

O Death! no mercy wilt thou show,

But unto Jesus will I go,

Who rose triumphant from the grave,

A guilty wretch like me to save.

DEATH.

Though sin consign thee to the gaave,

Jesus hath died thy sins to save;

His blood did flow in streams divine,

To cleanse that guilty soul of thine.

SINNER.

Oh, when that blood extracts the sting,

I’ll tune my harp and sweetly sing

To Him who rose me when I fell,

And saved my soul from death and hell.

The cross I see all stained with blood,

I view the suffering Son of God;

His precious blood was shed for me,

He paid the debt, and I am free!

Now, Death, thy sling I will defy!

For, lo, I see my Saviour nigh

Draw near, O Death, and strike the blow,

And let me to my Saviour go.

Glory to God! I now do see,

That death becomes a friend to me,

To take me from a world of woe;

Then let me to my Saviour go!

Now O my friends, whom I hold dear,

I hope you will to God draw near,

And do not shed a tear for me;

Where Jesus is, there I shall be.

My dying words do not forget,

But turn before it be too late,

And seek the Lord until you find,

For Jesus would leave none behind.

So, earthly friends, we now must part:

Give me your band, and Christ your heart.

Adieu, my friends, a long farewell

For now the love of God I feel.

H. Such, Printer and Publisher, 177, Union Street, Boro’--S.E.

THE RAILWAY TO HEAVEN.

This Line runs from Calvary through this vain world and the Valley of

the Shadow of Death, until it lands in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Oh! what a deal we hear and read,

About Railways and Railway speed!

Of lines which are, or may be made,

And selling shares is quite a trade.

The Railway mania does extend,

From John O’Groats to the Land’s End;

Where’er you ride, where’er you walk,

The Railway is the general talk.

Allow me, as an old divine,

To point you to another line,

Which does from earth to heaven extend,

Where real pleasures never end.

Infinite wisdom sketched the plan

To save apostate, ruined man;

And Jesus Christ, Jehovah’s son,

The mighty work Himself has done.

Of truth Divine the rails are made,

And on the Rock of Ages laid;

The rails are fixed in chairs of love,

Firm as the throne of God above.

At Calvary’s cross it does commence,

And runs through all the world from thence;

Then crosses Jordan’s swelling flood,

Before the royal throne of God.

One grand first-class is used for all,

For Jew and Gentile, great and small;

There’s room for all the world inside,

And kings with beggars there do ride.

In days of old, for ever past,

Men quarrelled about first and last;

And each contended loud and long,

My church is right, and yours is wrong.

We’re next the engine, some would say,

Our carriage here does lead the way;

But oft we see the train reversed--

The first is last, the last is first.

Let no one of his carriage boast

Nor in his outward duties trust;

Those who shall see the Saviour’s face,

Must be renewed by asking grace.

About a hundred years or so,

Wesley and others said they’d go:

A carriage mercy did provide,

That Wesley and his friends might ride.

’Tis nine and thirty years, they say,

Whoever lives to see next May,

Another coach was added then,

Unto this all important train.

Linked to each other, on we pass,

Supported by the Saviour’s grace;

When to the better land we come,

We’ll mix together round the throne.

Jesus is the first engineer,

He does the gospel engine steer;

The preachers of the sacred Word,

Co-workers with their dying Lord.

We’ve guards who ride, while others stand

Close by the way with flag in hand,--

The flag of white, of red, and green,

At different places may be seen.

When we behold the flag that’s white,

It cheers the heart, for all is right;

But when the green we do behold,

Caution, it says, and be not bold.

Red tells us there is danger near,

Be not high-minded, rather fear;

Place all your trust in God alone,

And in the blood which does atone.

Then let not poor nor rich despair,

He still delights to answer prayer;

Remember he will not despise,

Your humble wailings--mournful cries.

Afflictions are the tunnels drear,

Through which we go while travelling here;

But these will all be shortly past,

And heaven appear in view at last.

To cheer the dark and gloomy night,

We’ve lamps which give a brilliant light,

And while we urge our course along,

The cross of Christ is all our song.

We’ve several laws about this road,

Wrote by the finger of our God;

Ye trespassers must all beware,

For He the guilty will not spare.

No one from his place must alight,

Until he hears the words, all right;

And when this glorious signal’s given,

You’ll hear a whisper, ‘This is Heaven;’

The stations are the means of grace,

The house of God, the holy place;

No matter where that place may be,

A field, a barn, or hollow tree.

You say you will not ride with me,

Well, be it so, we still agree;

The church of England is before

The Quakers, yea, and several more.

Baptists, and Independents too,

The Methodists, both old and new;

I can, I will, I do rejoice,

That you have such a happy choice.

CHORUS.

“My son,” says God, “give me thy heart,

Make haste, or else the train will start.”

LONDON:- H. Such, Printer and Publisher, 177, Union Street, Boro’.--S.E.

RAILROAD TO HELL, _FROM DISSIPATION TO POVERTY_, AND FROM POVERTY TO

DESPERATION.

This Line begins in the Brewery, and runs through all Public-houses,

Dram-shops, and Jerry-shops, in a zigzag direction, until it lands in

the Kingdom of Hell.

If you are determined and wishful to go,

With blind debauchees to the regions of woe,

Then go to the Tap without any delay,

And drink both your reason and money away,

But never mind care, for if you despair,

It is the first train that will carry you there.

You’ve nothing to do but to guzzle and swill,

As long as the Landlord is willing to fill,

For this is the Line and the Railroad to Hell,

Where Drunkards and Devils for ever must dwell;

So drink all you can, it is the chief plan,

That e’er was invented by Devil for man.

This Railroad it runs thro’ Parlours and Snugs,

And here you can sit round glasses and jugs,

And have what you please, such as Ale, Gin, or Rum,

To please an old friend, or an old drunken chum;

And this is the way to drink all the day,

And then stagger home when you’ve swallowed your pay.

Such Taverns as these are Railroads to Hell,

Their barrels are engines which make men rebel;

Their jugs and their glasses which furnish their Trains,

Will empty their pockets and muddle their brains.

And thus drunkards ride to Hell in their pride,

With nothing but steam from the barrels inside.

We’ve Railroads to Heaven, and Railroads to Hell,

Where good men can ride, and where Devils can dwell;

We’ve Taverns for drunkards and Churches for Saints,

And quacks of all sorts to heal our complaints;

So now we can ride to Hell in our pride,

On Railroads of sin with blue Devils inside.

Old Swilltub the doctor and guard of the Trains,

He filches your pockets and fuddles your brains;

But when he’s got all from the poor silly man,

He then sends him home to do as he can,

With all his old chums, his badgers and bums,

Who sue him for money he owes in great sums.

But let us not ride on these Railroads of sin,

Nor drink either Brandy, Ale, Porter, or Gin;

And then we shall ride into Heaven with joy,

Where no drunken quacks can our vitals destroy

With poisonous drugs, sold to us in jugs,

In either their Bars, their Parlours, or Snugs.

The number of vaults which we have in Town,

Have robbed the poor lass of her bonnet and gown,

Her topknots and feathers have gone to the Pop,

And many have lost both credit and shop;

Both young men and maids of very good trades,

Have drunk all they earned, and gone down to the shades.

We’ve plenty of signs, both Horses and Bulls,

Of Lions and Dragons, to serve drunken Trulls;

We’ve signs too of Angels, of Warriors and Kings--

Yes, plenty of signs of good and bad things.

But what’s their design? Why Gin, Rum, and Wine,

Sold here to intoxicate puppies and swine.

We’ve White and Black Bulls and two Suns in one street,

One Swan and two Lions which never taste meat,

And here you see women with bottles and jugs,

Roll into these taverns and dram-drinking snugs,

As brazen as brass to get an odd glass.

In some of these shops where a fool cannot pass.

No wonder that Pop-ticket, women and wags,

Are dressed up in nothing but patches and rags.

Their dresses and shawls for strong liquor they’ll swop,

Yes, Tagrag and Bobtail must go to the pop;

And when this is done, away they will run,

To either a Lion, a Bull, or a Sun.

Such poor sorry women who pledge their old rags,

Are known by their petticoats hanging in jags;

You’ll see them at night with their heads wrapt in shawls

Not far from the Dram-shop, or sign of Three Balls,

With bonnets and hats, old dresses and brats,

Made up into bundles as you have seen Pat’s.

LONDON:- T. Such, Printer, Union street, Boro.’

PRETTY MAIDENS BEWARE! A LOVE LETTER from SARAH to CHARLES.

[Illustration]

The following epistle was written by a girl at Deal to her sweetheart,

a sailor on board a man of war in the Downs. The lieutenant of the ship

found it on board, twisted up with tobacco in it, by which it seems our

seafaring spark had as little regard for his mistress, after enjoyment,

as if he had been of a more illustrious rank.

Lovin Der Charls,

This mi kind love to yow is to tell yow, after all owr sport

and fon, I am lik to pay fort, for I am with child; and wors

of al, my sister _Nan_ knos it, and cals me hore and bech, and

is redy to ter my sol owt, and curs _Jack Peny_ lies with her

evry tim he cums ashor; and the saci dog wold have lade with me

to, but I wold not let him, for I wil be always honest to yow;

therfor der Charls com ashor, and let us be mared to safe my

vartu: and if yow have no munni, I will paun my new stais and

sel mi to new smoks yow gave me, and that will pay the parsen

and find us a diner; and pray der lovin _Charls_ cum ashor, and

der _Charls_ dont be frad for wont of a ring, for I have stole

mi sister _Nans_, and the nasty tod shall never have it no mor;

for she tels abot that I am goin to have a bastard, and God

bles yowr lovin sol cum sune, for I longs to be mared accordin

to yowr promis, and I will be yowr der vartus wife til deth,

SARAH JOHNSON.

Feb 19th.

P.S.--Pray dont let yowr mesmat Jack se this, if yow do hel tel

owr _Nan_, and shel ter mi hart owt then, for shes a devil at

me now.

_A Poetical Version of the foregoing._

Dear object of my love, whose manly charms

With bliss extatic fill’d my circling arms;

That bliss is past, and nought for me remains

But dire reproach, and sharp unpitied pains:

For (Death to me, and food to others pride)

My sister has my growing shame descry’d,

Ev’n she assails me with opprobious name,

When the prude’s conscious she deserves the same

Her loose associates, sated, from her flies,

And vainly to seduce my virtue tries:

True, as a wife, I only want the name;

O! haste and wed me, and preserve my fame.

Unlike most modern matches ours shall be,

From settlement, the lawyers fetters free;

I’ll quit my All, and be content with thee.

Then haste away, and strike detraction dead;

The nuptial feast awaits you, and the bed;

Nor fear the hand that will endure for life,

With me, your loving and your faithful wife.

POSTSCRIPT.

These earnest dictates of my anxious heart

I beg you will not to your friend impart;

For oft beneath fair friendship’s specious show,

The traitor lurks, the undermining foe.

R.A.

Printed by John Andrews, Portsmouth.

THE VERY PRETTY MAID OF THIS TOWN, AND THE AMOROUS ’SQUIRE, NOT ONE

HUNDRED MILES FROM THE PLACE.

[Illustration]

“I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire, but qualify the

fire’s extreme rage, lest it should burn above the bounds of

reason.”--_Shakespeare._

A pretty maid both kind and fair,

Dwells in this very town,

Her pleasant smiles and easy air,

Engages fop and clown.

Being accosted t’other day,

By a clumsy ’squire,

Who ask’d her if she knew the way

To quench a raging fire.

Water, Sir, reply’d the maid,

Will quench it in a trice,

O no, said he, you little jade,

I’ve try’d that once or twice.

Then Sir, said she, ’tis past my skill,

To tell you what will do;

I’m sure, said he, you know what will;

There’s nothing can but you.

Alas-a-day, what do you mean,

Reply’d the pretty fair;

I’d have you try it once again,

You never should despair.

Despair I cannot, cry’d the ’squire,

While you are in my sight,

’Tis you must quench the burning fire,

You set it first alight.

Then strait he clas’p her round the waist,

And forc’d from her a kiss;

Ho! ho! said she, is that your tale,

Then pray you, Sir, take this.

And with a pail, placed at the door,

She sluic’d the amorous ’squire;

You’re welcome, Sir, to this and more,

To quench your raging fire.

Printed by W. H. TICKLE, at his General Printing Office, Croydon,

Surrey.--An extensive assortment of Songs, Recitations, Shop Window

Bills, &c.--Printing of every description readily performed cheap as in

London.

THE FULL PARTICULARS OF “TAKING OFF” PRINCE ALBERT’S INEXPESSIBLES.

IN THE BOROUGH COURT OF REQUESTS.--THIS DAY.

[Illustration]

Had that love-sick young lady, Miss Juliet, lived in these unromantic,

matter o’ fact times, when puffery and humbug lead men on to fame

and fortune, instead of integrity, honesty and fair dealing,--when

ignorant and worthless foreign quacks are fostered and encouraged, and

native merit and native talent left to starve,--she would certainly

have become duly impressed with the importance of a “name.” “The

Queen’s name is a tower of strength,” and so think the enterprising

commercial geniuses of the present day, inasmuch as the patronymic of

our gracious Sovereign is applied to all imaginable purposes. We have

_Victoria_ washing tubs, mouse-traps, and mustard-pots, and _Albert_

toasting-forks, shaving-brushes, and dung-barges, and last, though by

no means least, “Albert inexpressibles.” However, as the young lady

alluded to above says, “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Timothy Shaw, a bandy-legged “ninth part,” with a mouth sufficiently

capacious to admit the largest cabbage that ever flourished in field

or garden, summoned a knowing-looking specimen of the _genus homo_,

named Gilpin, before the commissioners, for the sum of 7s, for work and

labour performed in the manufacture of a certain pair of “_kicksies_,”

for the wear of a certain Mr Gilpin.

The defendant, an “artful card,” was described by the plaintiff as a

“’buss cove out of luck,” that is, he had been in the habit of doing

the amiable at the door of a Walworth omnibus, but had lost his place.

The tailor, having blown his nose in that peculiar and primitive manner

which gave rise to a certain riddle tending to show that the poor man

often throws away what the rich man puts in his pocket, proceeded to

“open his case” as follows:--“Please yer vorship, I’m a tailor by

trade.” And here we must slightly digress to remark that a disciple of

the bodkin and shears, upon being asked to describe himself, invariably

says, “I’m a tailor by _trade_.” A celebrated author is of opinion,

that this is to prevent his being considered a _tailor by nature_. “I’m

a tailor by trade,” said the plaintiff, “and von’t turn my back on the

best vorkman in the wicinity of Tooley street for a slap up fit in the

first stile of fashion, ’cause I regularly takes a trip to the vest-end

to pick ’em up. Twigged the ‘Prince’ t’other day with a new pair of

trousers on,--had the cut on ’em all right in the turn of a bodkin.”

Commissioner: Really you must be a very clever person to “take off” the

Prince’s inexpressibles so very expeditiously.--Plaintiff: Beg pardon,

yer vorship, but I vouldn’t be guilty of any sich indelicate hact, as

to “take off” anybody’s breeches.

The Commissioner finding that “snip” had the laugh on his own side,

adjustedhis wig, and requested him to keep to the question.--Tailor: So

I do, yer vorship; I’ll swear I never tuck not nobody’s breeches off

but me own.

Commissioner: Well, what have you to say about Prince Albert? I suppose

he wears his clothes like other people?--Tailor: Ah! that’s all a

mistake, ’cause I’ve heerd that some knowing Jarman has hinwented new

fashioned unmentionables, wot all--

Commissioner: There, there, we don’t want to hear any more of this

nonsense. What have you got to say against the defendant?--Plaintiff:

Vy, my lord, it’s “a plain unwarnished tale.” Master Gilpin steers

himself into my shop, and ses to me, “Tim, old feller, I vant you to

make me a hout-and-hout pair of _kicksies_, ’cause I vonts to show

off a bit at _Court_ in ’em.” In course, me lord, I vos regularly

flabbergasted to hear a kiddy as vos only a “buss cove” talk in

sich a way, but it soon comed out as he vos a going to lodge in

Pennyvinkle-court, vich is close in our neighbourwood, me lord; and

then he said he vos a goin to be married. “Poor devil,” ses I, “you’re

a goin to tie a knot as I should be werry glad to untie.” As bad luck

’ud have it, my old woman heard me, and didn’t I cotch it nicely.

Commissioner: Well, did you make him any trousers after

all?--Plaintiff: Oh! yes; and arter altering ’em three times the

warmint would’nt pay a farden.

Commissioner: What did he complain of?--Plaintiff: ’Cause they didn’t

fit tight to his legs, though I told him it warn’t the fashion.

The Commissioner told the defendant that he was ready to hear anything

that he might have to say about the matter.--Defendant: I was fool

enough to let this old spooney have some cloth to make a pair of

trousers, and when I came to try them on, I found them so tight at

the top that I couldn’t button them, and the legs were large enough

to have admitted my whole body. He pretended to alter them--they were

worse than before.--Plaintiff: I made them in the “Albert style,” yer

vorship, so that shows the wagabone’s bad taste.--Defendant: If Prince

Albert ever wore sich a pair of _kicksies_ as them I’ll eat my hat.

Commissioner: How much are you willing to allow him for his

trouble?--Defendant: Not the ghost of a mag; why should I?--ar’n’ he

spoiled my breeches?--Plaintiff: Some people as is werry ugly, thinks

the tailor ought to make ’em look handsome. Now, my lord, ’cause

this pig-headed hobgoblin didn’t look a regular _cock wenus_ in the

breeches, he lays it all to me.

Commissioner: Now if you had contented yourself with making him

look like a “buss cove,” as you describe him, instead of trying

to _Albertise_ him, you would, in all probability, have given

satisfaction. You should never try to make a silk purse out of a sow’s

ear.--Plaintiff: That’s very true. It is labour in wain to try to make

a gemman out of sich a wulgar blackguard.--Defendant: Keep a civil

tongue in your head, old bandy legs.--Plaintiff: Take a fit, young

gallus. You arn’t no sich a _cock wenus_, pug-nose, arter all.

Commissioner: We cannot allow this. The defendant will pay 5s and the

costs.

PRINTED BY THE ROYAL AUTHORITY of Messrs March Winds and April Showers.

BATTLE OF PEA SOUP, FOUGHT ON THE FIFTY-TWELFTH DAY OF ROTTENSTICKS

[Illustration]

This memorable battle took place on the Ocean of Sprats, situated

on the Continent of Green Peas, within half a mile of a Donkey;

where Bobby the Ratcatcher swallowed the Monument, and the poor old

soldier was killed by being drowned in a bog of buttermilk: such an

unseasonable battle was never known before.

It took place on the Fifty-twelfth day, on London Bridge, between 15

and 160 o’clock in the night.

Arthur Mc Kelly’s nose was knocked into eighteen thousand pieces and

converted into a cheese knife, and sold in Plum pudding court, going

up to Christmas on the top side of little Bobby the Ratcatcher; the

regiment was commanded by General Pigsfry, and Colonel Beefsteak, the

bone polisher, who lived one thousand and ninety-nine miles beyond

mutton chops, in the parish of Blackberry pudding, a robust strong

man, well fed upon marrow bones, and Darby O’Daud, Judy Saggin’s son,

was mortally wounded, his second hand coat that was made and mended

by Patrick Mc Patch, three calendar months beyond the city of Cork.

The back buttons were turned before, and a mail coach could have gone

through the button holes, the sleeves were massacred and murdered,

his waistcoat suddenly took fright, jumped aside off his back, and

tumbled into the trap of great Calamity, which was fixed within a

quarter of an inch of bad luck. This made him roar out “potatoes” loud

enough to be heard sixteen hundred miles beyond Buttermilk, and Selim

O’Blunder, the second son of Teddy Humbug, a son to Mr. Nonsense, was

terribly wounded in the understanding by the frightful appearance of

the blade of a slug, his remembrance was knocked against the corner

of his consideration, which capsized his wisdom out of his Knowledge.

His ability was rocking in the cradle of Lamentation, which was fixed

between joy and sorrow, where Lamentation fell asleep, and Billy

Riley received three dreadful wounds--both his elbows were put out of

joint, the shin bones of his knee breeches were transmogrified into

a woolpack, and his stockings were made to rue the day his legs were

born. Billy Gobbles, the dish licker’s son, was accidentally wounded in

different parts, first in his constitution, and then in his feelings.

After which a piece of plum pudding stuck in the stomach and knocked

his appetite asunder, and the sons of buttermilk were all put to the

rout, and never stopped till they went and rode the bull, and started

off to the land of potatoes, where buttermilk is sold by the yard--to

plaster their wounds with potatoes, and the humbugging hospitals of

both nations in Dublin is filled with all the buttermilk sons that were

killed and wounded in this terrible battle of Pea Soup.

There is one hundred and forty-ten thousand nine hundred and

sixty-twelve pounds reward for whoever will give the least information

of the author of this battle. The money to be paid down to the

informant by Mr Jack Neverfind, who lives at the top of Toleration

street, three doors below the bottom, near the corner of Humbug

lane, in the days of Tantonybobus, when Adam will be a young man,

three hundred and sixty-five miles beyond the remembrance of the

Antediluvians, in the reign of our Lord and Sovereign, Queen Richard,

by the grace of Candlesticks, Queen of Potwollopers, such as velveteen

plum puddings, calico dumplings, and leather apple pies.

The Full & True Particulars OF THE GREATEST OLD

[Illustration: Goat]

IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD.

FANNY.

The fields were gay,

And sweet the hay,

Our gang of gypsies seated

Upon the grass,

Both lad and lass,

By you we all were treated.

Young chicken, geese,

With ducks and pease,

And beans and bacon dainty;

With punch and beer,

The best of cheer,

You gave us them in plenty.

’Twas all to cheat poor silly Fan,

And pilfer that same jewel;

You’re sworn to be my perjur’d man,

Tho’ now so false and cruel.

You stole some cloaths,

And caps and hose,

From sister Pat last Easter,

To make me fine,

You gave me nine-

Pence and a silver teaster.

An apron too,

Tho’ not quite new,

And good as from the needle;

And once, I own,

You gave a crown,

To save me from the beadle.

’Twas all to cheat poor silly Fan,

And rifle that same jewel;

You’re sworn to me, you perjur’d man,

Tho’ now so false and cruel.

Whene’er we’d meet,

With kisses sweet,

And speeches soft you won me;

The hawthorn bush

Shou’d make you blush,

’Twas there you first undone me.

What signifies

Your shams and lies,

Your jokes no more shall jeer me;

A licence bring

With golden ring,

Or never more come near me.

For you have cheated silly Fan,

And pilfer’d that same jewel;

You’re sworn to me, you perjur’d man,

Tho’ now so false and cruel.

It is pretty well known among the circle of his acquaintances, and the

townspeople generally, that Mr ----, the old established and highly

_respectable_ tradesman of THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD is much addicted to

wenching, and that he is known to nearly every boy and girl in the

town, big or little, as the “OLD RAM,” or “BILLY GOAT.” And it is also

well-known that his wife, who is as nice and amiable a little body as

ever laid on a husband’s shirt-tail--can never keep a maid-servant with

a tolerable agreeable face, but he is sure to be in pursuit of her; and

only this year they have had in their service Mary Carter, Jane Baker,

Martha Price, Jemima Smith, Harrietta Johnson, Sarah Tompkins, and

Betsy Rogers, all of whom have left at a short notice in consequence

of the _rumbustiousness_ of Mr ----. A few weeks ago Mrs ---- engaged

with a very pretty girl named Fanny H----, but no sooner did “The Old

Ram” behold her than he was smitten with her charms, considering her as

a domestic treasure, of which, he flattered himself, he should soon be

possessed. Accordingly, Mr ---- took every opportunity in the absence

of her mistress to say civil things, which so tormented the girl, that

she soon gave her mistress warning. Mrs ----, the tradesman’s wife,

having taken a great liking to this servant, was very sorry to part

with her, offered to increase her wages, and diminish her labour; but

these kind overtures had no effect, the young woman saying it was

impossible for her to stay. This peremptory declaration excited Mrs

----’s curiosity to know what could give the girl so great a disgust

of the place, when, upon being interrogated closely upon the subject,

she replied, “Why then, Madam, to tell the truth, my master teazes me

so much in your absence that I have no comfort of my life. I would not

mind, continued the girl, if he was a handsome and a young man, but

to be tormented by such _an ugly fellow_ is insupportable.” “An ugly

fellow! resumed Mrs ----, with great warmth,--what, call my husband

_an ugly fellow_? Get out of the house this instant, you jade,”--then

stamping her foot in great rage, she immediately discharged the girl.

Printed by J. Pitts, Wholesale Toy Warehouse, Great St Andrew Street,

Seven Dials.

THE WONDERFUL Adventures of Mr. O’Flynn in Search OF OLD MOTHER CLIFTON.

Understanding that old Mother Clifton’s house was blown away 366 miles

above the moon, I went in search of her. I was searching nine days,

running hard as I could with my two shin bones in my pocket, and

my head under my arm, by order of Old Joe Buck, the Pensioner, who

lost his middle eye at the Battle of Waterloo, chewing half-boiled

stirabout. I then got upon a buck-flea’s back, which carried me

over large hills of skilligalee and bog holes of buttermilk, till

I met Jarvis the coachmaker driving two dead horses under an empty

post-chaise loaded with 18 milliners, 2 tambour workers, 5 loads of

apples, a roasted milestone, and half-a-dozen grenadier cock magpies,

belonging to the French flying artillery, drinking tea till they

were black in the face. I asked Mr Jarvis did he get any account of

the Old Woman of Ratcliffe Highway, who was drowned in a shower of

feathers last night about three weeks ago, and he told me he had got

no account of her whatever, but if I went to John Ironsides I’d get

some intelligence, and where John Ironsides lived he told me was two

miles beyond all parts of the parish, up and down a street where a

mad dog bit a hatchet next week, and pigs wrestle for stirabout: I

thanked him for his information and bid him good night. I than began

to run as fast as I could sit down by the side of a ditch with my two

shin bones and my head in my pocket, till I met a gentleman with the

custom-house of Dublin on his back, the Manchester exchange in his

pocket, and Lord Nelson’s pillar in London stuck in his eye for a

walking-stick. The Lord help you, poor man, said I, I am sorry for you,

and the devil skewer you, why had you no better luck? I asked him what

was the matter, and he told me he was bad with the gravel in his eye,

the daddy grumble in his guts, and the worm cholic in his toe. I then

put him into a coach and drove him into a druggist’s shop and ordered

him two pennyworth of pigeon’s milk, three ounces of the blood of a

grasshopper, a pint of self basting, the head and pluck of a buck flea,

the ribs of a roasted chew of tobacco, and the lights and liver of a

cobbler’s lapstone, boiled separately altogether in a leather iron pot.

Immediately after taking the mixture he was delivered of a pair of

blacksmith’s bellows, and a small tomb-stone only a ton weight. Then

proceeding on to Johnny Gooal’s house, said I to him, John, did you get

any account of Mother Clifton’s house, that was blown 366 miles above

the moon by a gale of wind from a sow gelder’s horn. I got no account,

says Johnny, only I wrote a letter to her to-morrow night, when I was

snoring fast asleep with my eyes open, knowing her father to be a smith

and farrier to a pack of wild geese, and her mother nurse to a nest of

young monkies that was held in the said parish of Up-and-down, where

pigs wrestle for stirabout; but John told me I should not go till I

had dined with them; we then sat down, and what should be brought up

but a dish of stewed paving stones,, well mixed with tho oil and ribs

of a chew of tobacco, and two quarts of the blood of a lamplighter’s

snuff-box. The next great wonder she showed me, she brought me into a

fine garden and placed me by a cabbage-stalk, which only covered 52

acres of ground, and where I saw ten regiments of artillery firing a

royal salute of 21 guns.

The next wonder she showed me was a big man standing upon a small

table made of heath, dressed in a scarlet black cloak, who made a very

great sermon, but a north country buck flea bit him in the pole of

the neck, and made him roar murder. The next great wonder I saw was a

small boy only a thousand years old, thrashing tobacco into peas, and

one of the peas started through a wall eighteen feet thick, and killed

a dead boy on the other side. Then there was the London privateer and

the Channel royal mail coach in a desperate engagement; firing boiled

oyster shells, stewed lapstones, and roasted wigs one at the other, one

of the lapstones struck Mother Clifton over the right eye and delivered

her of the old woman of Ratcliffe Highway, who was sister to Mother

Clifton, who had nine rows of bees-wax teeth and a three cocked hat

made of the right side of a crab’s nostril. I then took the Old Hag

and made a short leap from Liverpool to Naas in the North of Ireland,

where I saw a French frigate coming with Nelson’s monument on the top

of her mainmast. So now to bring my story to an end this Old Woman and

me stepped out of the vessel into the port-hole; I made my escape, but

the Old Woman was always tipsy with drinking Chandler’s tobacco, so she

sunk to the bottom, and if you go there you will find her making straw

hats of deal boards.

London:--H. Such, Printer & Publisher, 177, Union-street, Borough,

S.E., and sold at 83, White-cross-street, St. Luke’s.

SALE OF A WIFE IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD--MRS. YOU-KNOW-WHO.

Come all you lads and lasses gay, and banish care and strife,--In the

market-place, a mason did by auction sell his wife;--Thirteen shillings

and a penny for the lady was the sum,--And to see the curious spree,

some thousands soon did run;--In the market-place, I do declare, it’s

true upon my life,--A mason did the other day, by auction sell his

wife. This man and wife, good lack-a-day, did often disagree;--For

she often pawned her husband’s clothes to go upon the spree. So he

led her to the market, with a halter, I am told,--And there she was,

so help my Bob, by public auction sold. When the auctioneer began the

sale, a jolly farmer cried,--Here’s five and fourpence half-penny

for the mason’s lushy bride; a tanner cried out seven and six, and

then a butcher said,--I’ll give you ten and sevenpence, besides a

bullock’s head. She’s going, cried the auctioneer, she’s going, upon

my life;--Tinkers, coblers, sailors, will you buy a charming wife?

Such fighting, scratching, tearing too, before no one did see;--Such

roaring, bawling, swearing, O! blow me, it was a spree. At length a

rum old cobler did give a dreadful bawl,--Here’s thirteen and a penny,

with my lapstone and my awl. Thirteen and a penny, when down the

hammer dropt,--With whiskers, apron, bustle, shawl, stays, petticoat,

and----A lushy mason’s lady was this blooming damsel gay,--She did

unto the hammer come upon a market day;--Bakers, butchers, masons, did

bid for her, we hear,--While a lot of rum old women pitched into the

auctioneer. Young men and maids did halloa, while married folks did

sneer, They frightened the old cobler and knocked down the auctioneer.

The cobler took the lady up just like a Scotchman’s pack, and the

funny mason’s lady rode upon the cobler’s back. Some laughed till

they bursted, while others were perplexed, But the cobler bristled up

his wife with two big balls of wax; The cobler sat her on his knee,

and joyfully did bawl,--While the lady knocked about the seat the

lapstone and the awl. Then the mason he did sell his wife, as you

shall understand, And thirteen and a penny was popt into his hand; he

whistled and capered, for to banish care and strife,--He went into a

gin-shop, singing, I have sold my wife; So the divorced mason he may

go, to banish care and strife,--Unto the market place again and buy

another wife. Now the cobler and the lady are both in a stall, While

the cobler works the bristle, and the lady works the awl. And they upon

the lapstone do so merry play together,--Singing, heel and toe, gee

up, gee woe, big balls of wax and leather. And day and night in sweet

delight, they banish care and strife,--the merry little cobler and his

thirteen-shilling wife.

THE PERPETUAL ALMANACK, OR GENTLEMAN’S PRAYER BOOK.

Showing how one Richard Middleton was taken before the Mayor of the

City he was in, for using cards in church during divine service; being

a droll, merry, and humourous account of an odd affair that happened to

a private soldier in the 6th Regiment of Foot.

[Illustration]

The sergeant commanded his party to the church, and when the parson

had ended his prayer, he took his text; and all them that had a Bible

pulled it out to find the text, but this soldier had neither Bible,

Almanack, nor Common Prayer book; but he put his hand in his pocket and

pulled out a pack of cards, and spread them before him as he sat. While

the parson was preaching, he first kept looking at one card and then at

another. The sergeant of the company saw him, and said, “Richard, put

up your cards; for this is no place for them.” “Never mind that,” for

you have no business with me here.”

“When the parson had ended his sermon, and all was over, the soldiers

repaired to the church-yard, and the commanding officer gave the word

of command to fall in, which they did. The sergeant of the city came

and took the man prisoner. “Man, you are my prisoner,” said he. “Sir,”

said the soldier, “What have I done that I am your prisoner?” “You have

played a game of cards in the church.” “No,” said the soldier, “I have

not play’d a game, for I only look’d at a pack.” “No matter for that,

you are my prisoner.” “Where must we go,” said the soldier? “You must

go before the mayor,” said the serjeant.

So he took him before the mayor; and when they came to the mayor’s

house, he was at dinner. When he had dined, he came to them and

said--“well serjeant, what do you want with me?” “I have brought a

soldier before your honour, for playing at cards in the church.”

“What! that soldier.” “Yes.” “Well, soldier, what have you to say for

yourself?” “Much sir, I hope.” “Well and good, but if you have not

you shall be punished the worst that ever man was.” “Sir,” said the

soldier, “I have been five weeks upon the march, and have but little

to subsist on, and am without either Bible, Almanack, or Common Prayer

book, or anything but a pack of cards. I hope to satisfy your honor of

the purity of my intention.”

Then the soldier pulled out of his pocket the pack of cards, which he

spread before the mayor, and then began with the ace.

“When I see the ace,” said he, “it puts me in mind that there is one

God only; and when I see the deuce, it puts me in mind of the Father

and the Son; when I see the tray, it puts me in mind of the Father,

Son, and Holy Ghost; When I see the four, it puts me in mind of the

four Evangelists that preached the gospel, viz., Matthew, Mark,

Luke, and John; when I see the five, it puts me in mind of the five

wise virgins that trimmed their lamps; there were ten, but five were

foolish, who were shut out; when I see the six, it puts me in mind

that in six days the Lord made Heaven and Earth; when I see the seven,

it puts me in mind that the seventh day God rested from all the works

which he had created and made, wherefore the Lord blessed the seventh

day and hallowed it; when I see the eight, it puts me in mind of the

eight righteous persons that were saved when God drowned the world,

viz., Noah, his wife, three sons, and their wives; when I see the nine,

it puts me in mind of nine lepers that were cleansed by our Saviour,

there were ten, but nine never returned God thanks; when I see the ten,

it puts me in mind of the ten commandments that God gave Moses on Mount

Sinai on the two two tables of stone.

Here he took the knave and laid it aside.

“When I see the queen, it puts me in mind of the queen of Sheba, who

came from the furthermost parts of the world to hear the wisdom of

King Soloman, and who was as wise a woman as he was a man; for she

brought fifty boys and fifty girls, all clothed in boys’ apparel, to

show before King Solomon, for him to tell which were boys and which

were girls; but he could not until he called for water for them to wash

themselves; the girls washed up to their elbows, and the boys only

up to their wrists, so King Solomon told by that. And also of Queen

Victoria--THE QUEEN of _our_ HEARTS--to pray for her. And when I see

the King, it puts me in mind of the great King of heaven and earth,

which is God Almighty.”

“Well,” said the mayor, “you have given a very good description of all

the cards except one, which is lacking.” “Which is that?” said the

soldier. “The Knave,” said the mayor. “Oh, I can give your honour a

good description of that, if your honour won’t be angry. “No, I will

not,” says the mayor, “if you will not term me the knave.”

“Well,” said the soldier, “the greatest that I know of is the serjeant

of the city that brought me here.” “I don’t know,” said the mayor,

“that he is the greatest knave, but I am sure he is the greatest fool.”

“I shall now show your honour how I use the cards as an Almanack.” “You

certainly are a clever fellow,” said the mayor, “but I think you will

have a hard matter to make that appear.”

“When I count how many spots there are in a pack of cards, I find there

are three hundred and sixty-five, there are so many days in the year.”

“Stop,” said the mayor, “that’s a mistake.” “I grant it,” said the

soldier, “but as I have never yet seen an almanack that was thoroughly

correct in all points, it would have been impossible for me to imitate

an almanack exactly, without, a mistake.” “Your observations are very

correct,” said the mayor; “go on.” When I count how many cards there

are in a pack, I find there are fifty-two; there are so many weeks in

the year; when I count how many tricks there are in a pack, I find

there are thirteen: there are so many lunar months in the year; there

are four suits in the pack, which represent the four seasons of the

year. You see, sir, that this pack of cards is a Bible, Almanack,

Common Prayer book, and Pack of Cards to me.”

Then the mayor called for a loaf of bread, a piece of cheese, and a pot

of good beer, and gave to the soldier a piece of money, bidding him to

go about his business, saying he was the cleverest man he had ever seen.

Taylor, Printer, 92 and 93, Brick Lane, Spitalfields.

THE FAR FAMED FAIRY TALE OF FENELLA.

A Famous Fish Factor Found himself Father of Five Fine Flirting

Females, Fanny, Florence, Fernanda, Francesca, and Fenella. The First

Four were Flattering, Flat Featured, Forbidden Faced, Freckled Frumps;

Fretful, Flippant, Foolish, and Full of Fun. The Fisher Failed, and

was Forced by Fickle Fortune to Forego his Footman, Forfeit his

Forefather’s Fine Fields, and Find a Forlorn Farmhouse in a Forsaken

Forest. The Four Fretful Females, Fond of Figuring at Feasts in

Feathers and Fashionable Finery, Fumed at their Fugitive Father,

Forsaken by Fulsome, Flattering Fortune hunters, who Followed them when

Fish Flourished. Fenella Fondled her Father, Flavoured their Food,

Forgot her Flattering Followers, and Frolickled in Frieze without

Flounces. The Father, Finding himself Forced to Forage in Foreign parts

For a Fortune, Found he could afford a Fairing to his Five Fondlings.

The First Four were Fain to Foster their Frivolity with Fine Frills

and Fans, Fit to Finish their Father’s Finances. Fenella, Fearful of

Flooring him, Formed a Fancy For a Full Fresh Flower. Fate Favoured the

Fish Factor For a Few days, when he Fell in with a Fog. His Faithful

Filly’s Footsteps Faltered, and Food Failed. He Found himself in Front

of a Fortified Fortress. Finding it Forsaken, and Feeling himself

Feeble and Forlorn, with Feasting, he Fed upon the Fish, Flesh, and

Fowl he Found, Fricasseed and Fried, and when Full, Fell Flat on his

Face on the Floor. Fresh in the Forenoon he Forthwith Flew to the

Fruitful Fields, and not Forgetting Fenella, he Filched a Fair Flower,

when a Foul, Frightful, Fiendish Figure Flashed Forth. “Felonious

Feller, Fingering my Flower, I’ll Finish you! Go! Say Farewell to your

Fine Felicitious Family, and Face me in a Fortnight!” The Faint-hearted

Fisher Fumed and Faltered, and Fast was Far in his Flight. His Five

daughters Flew to Fall at his Feet, and Fervently Felicitate him.

Frantically and Fluently he unfolded his Fate; Fenella, Forthwith

Fortified by Filial Fondness, Followed her Father’s Footsteps, and

Flung her Faultless Form at the Foot of the Frightful Figure, who

Forgave the Father, and Fell Flat on his Face; For he had Fervently

Fallen in a Fiery Fit of love For the Fair Fenella. He Feasted and

Fostered her, till Fascinated by his Faithfulness, she Forgot the

Ferocity of his Face, Form, and Feature, and Finally, Frankly, and

Fondly Fixed Friday, the Fifth day of February For the affair to come

off. There were present at the wedding, Fanny, Florence, Fernanda,

Francesca, and the Fisher; there was Festivity, Fragrance, Finery,

Fireworks, Fricaseed Frogs, Fritters, Fish, Flesh, Fowls, and Furmity,

Frontinac, Flip, and Fare, Fit For the Fastidious, Fruit, Fuss,

Flambeaux, and Flowers, Four Fat Fiddlers and Fifers, and the Frightful

Form of the Fortunate and Frumpish Fiend Fell From him, and he Fell at

Fenella’s Feet, a Fair Favoured, Fine, Frank Freeman of the Forest.

Behold the Fruits of Filial affection!!

SECRETS, FOR LADIES DURING COURTSHIP.

TEASING MADE EASY.

ADVICE TO LADIES.

HOW TO TEASE THE GENTLEMEN.

_HOW TO GET A LOVER_,

And a mass of Information on

LOVE, COURTSHIP, & MATRIMONY.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: TEASING MADE EASY FOR LADIES]

Let the lady, on some occasions, appear devotedly attached, and

unusually fond, particularly at parting in the evening.--The next day,

let her meet her lover with a frown of hatred, and repulse his advances

with a look of ineffable scorn. If he dare to demand a reason for

such conduct on her part (which he will hardly venture to do for some

hours), let the reply be, “I am surprised, sir, YOU should think of

addressing me, after what has past. Oh! I never!” This will SETTLE him

for the rest of the day, during which time you can throw in a variety

of sly HINTS, to make him COMFORTABLE, and cause him to wish that he

had never been born. At parting, hold out your hand to him, coolly,

and say, “Farewell, cruel man!” but deign no further favor. The next

morning, if he call on you--which he certainly will,--relax somewhat

of your austerity--burst out into tears, and throw yourself into his

arms, sobbing as if your heart would break. This will produce a fine

effect! He will accuse himself, inwardly, of a thousand faults he never

committed, and acknowledge them for the sake of forgiveness, which you

must gradually bestow.

Another very delightful method of teasing a man if he is very fond of

you, is to propose taking a walk with some friends, and then after

making yourself look “provokingly handsome,” accompany him to the door

and then, apparently without design, take the arm of some gentleman of

the party, then on your return, say, “I was so delighted with my walk!

I did so enjoy myself; did not you, DEAR?” Repeat these and other doses

during courtship, and if you be skilful you make him fit for a husband,

and he will ever let you have your own way and do what you please.

THE TRADESMAN’S NEW HYMN.

[Illustration]

When Nature in a voice of pain,

Speaks of want and woe,

The voice is heard--but heard in vain,

As our misfortunes show.

For many weaks we work have sought,

But work we can’t procure,

Sad distress has been our lot,

To go from door to door.

How does the wretched parent feel,

When children cry for bread,

How keen the pain of sorrow then,

They surely must be fed.

Look then on us in our distress,

Nor think us much to blame,

In God alone we put our trust,

For poverty’s no shame.

May want upon you never frown,

Nor in your dwelling come;

May Heaven pour its blessing down,

On every friendly soul.

Lord give us grace, that we may be,

Closely united unto thee;

On thee we call, for thou alone hast power,

To raise us friends in this distressing hour.

Thou, Lord, can make the meanest soul,

An object of thy care,

Regard the feelings of my heart,

And hear the Tradesman’s prayer.

The Saviour died upon the cross,

My sins and grief to bear,

For his sake, Lord, turn not away,

But hear a sinner’s prayer.

My lot seem’d hard, but ’twas ordained,

My faithfulness to prove,

The child was taken far from home,

To learn a Saviour’s love.

In darkness long my soul remained,

A rebel bold was I,

But love subdued my stubborn heart,

And proved that God was nigh.

And if thy Son has made me free,

Then I am free indeed;

My soul is rescued from its chain,

For this did Jesus bleed.

Lord, send Thy Word to that far land,

Where my poor brethren dwell,

Teach them the way, the truth, the life,

That saves from death and hell.

Oh, that my father and mother dear,

Might there thy mercy see,

Tell what Christ has done for them,

What he has done for me.

Lord, Jesus thou hast shed thy blood,

For thousands such as me,

Many despise poor Tradesmen’s lot,

But to thy cross I flee.

FRIENDS,-It is with feelings of the deepest regret that we are at

present compelled, for the support of ourselves and families, to offer

you these few but simple verses to your notice, trusting that you will

be pleased to purchase this paper, it being the only means left us at

present, to support the tender thread of our existence and to keep us

and our families from the utter starvation which at present surrounds

us.

E. Jackson, Printer, 15, High Street, Stockport, & Sold by H. Such,

177, Union-st., Boro.’--S.E.

A COPY OF THE REGISTER OF THE MANOR OF DUNMOW,

_Certifying the truth of the late_ CLAIM OF A GAMMON OF BACON _By

Thomas Shakeshaft, and his Wife Ann_.

On the 20th of June, 1751.

Dunmow, _late the Priory._

The Court Baron of Mary Hallett, Widow, Lady of the said Manor, thus

holden for the said Manor, on Thursday, the twentieth day of June, in

the five and twentieth year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord George

the Second, by the Grace of God of Great Britain, France, and Ireland,

King, defender of the faith, and so forth; and in the year of our Lord,

1751. Before John Comyns, Esq.; Steward of the said Manor.

William Townsend, }

Mary Cater, }

John Strutt, }

Martha Wicksted, }

James Raymond, }

Elizabeth Smith, } sworn

Daniel Heckford, }

Catherina Brett, }

Robert Mapletoft, }

Elzbth. Haselfoote, }

Richard Birch, }

Sarah Mapletoft, }

At this court it was found and presented by the homage aforesaid, that

Thomas Shakeshaft, of Weathersficld, in the county of Essex, weaver,

and Ann his wife, have been married for the space of seven years last

past, and that by reason of their quiet, peaceable, tender, and loving

cohabitation during all the said time: They are fit and qualified to

be admitted by the court to receive the antient and accustomed oath

whereby to entitle themselves to have the bacon of Dunmow delivered

unto them, according to the custom of the said Manor.

Whereupon the said Thomas Shakeshaft, and Ann his wife being present

here in court in their proper persons, humbly pray’d that they might be

admitted to take the oath aforesaid: And thereupon the said steward,

with the jury, suitors, and other officers of the court, proceeded

with the usual solemnity to the antient and accustomed place for the

administration of the oath, and delivering the bacon aforesaid (that is

to say) to the great stones lying near the church door within the said

Manor; where the said Thomas Shakeshaft, and Ann his wife, kneeling

down on the said stones, the said steward did administer unto them the

following oath (to wit)

You shall swear by the custom of our confession.

That you never made nuptial transgression,

Since you were married man and wife,

By household brawls or contentious strife;

Or otherwise in bed or at board,

Offended each other in deed or word;

Or since the parish clerk said amen,

Wished yourselves unmarried again,

Or in a twelve month and a day,

Repented not in thought any way;

But continued true and in desire,

As when you joined hands in holy choir:

If to these conditions without all fear,

Of your own accord you will freely swear:

A gammon of bacon you shall receive,

And bear it hence with love and good leave;

For this is our custom at Dunmow well known,

Tho’ the sport be ours, the bacon’s your own.

Upon which a gammon of bacon was delivered to the said Thomas

Shakeshaft, and Ann his wife, with the usual solemnity.

THE RENT DAY; OR, BLACK MONDAY MORNING.

Oh, black Monday morning dread I’m sure,

The landlord is coming, he’s just at the door;

With his book in his hand he seems fully bent

To have from his tenants the whole of his rent.

Well, Mrs. Longface, have you got any rent ready--let me see, there’s

5s. on the book, and 3s. this week makes 8s., now I have brought a

receipt for the whole.--I am very sorry, sir, but I have no money till

next week!--Next week! why your husband was drunk last Saturday night,

and he earns 50s. a week, and can’t pay 3s, this won’t do; If I can’t

get my rent I shall bring the bailiff on Monday morning, so I tell you

what you have to trust to.

So away then he goes, and with a black look,

And under his arm he puts his rent book;

He knocks at the next door, and his looks are so sour,

He will turn all the milk in the town in an hour.

“Well, Mrs. Paywell, have you got any rent for me?--Yes, sir.--You

are the best tenant I have got; let me see, 20s., here’s your

receipt.--Stop, sir, before I pay you this money, you must send

a bricklayer and a carpenter; there’s the top of the house wants

repairing, the stairs are all to pieces, and the privy door is off,

and I am desired by my husband not to pay you a farthing till you have

put the whole in complete repair.--No. I won’t repair it at all, so

if you don’t like it leave it.--Yes, but I am not agoing to give you

20s. When it rained the other night we were obliged to get up, and move

the children into the middle of the room, and my husband and I were

compelled to keep up all night with an umbrella over our heads to keep

the rain off. I think if landlords were as fond of sending carpenters

and bricklayers as they are of sending bailiffs, it would be more to

their advantage.--But, Mrs Paywell, where’s your husband, I must speak

to him about it.--Why, he’s at work, and he can’t afford to lose a day

to wait on you, so as soon as you get the repairs done here’s your

money.

Away then he goes, for he’s quite in the dumps,

And at the next door he gives some hard thumps;

But on looking up you’d have thought he’d have swooned,

For his tenants were gone by the light of the moon.

Now, I’ll call on Mother Lushy. Well, my little girl, is your mother

at home?--No, sir, she popped out as you popped in.--Has she left

any rent for me?--Yes, sir, she has left 9d. in the teacup on the

mantlepiece.--What, 9d. out of two months. Why your mother must think

I’m a fool.--No, sir, mother says you’re an old rogue.--Well, tell

her I shall send the broker.--She says you have broke her of the last

9d. she had.--Has your mother left any money in the teapot?--No,

sir, there’s only a quartern of gin in it that mother was going to

drink, but she went out in a hurry.--Ah, I suppose she knew I was

coming.--Yes, Mrs. Longface told her the old rogue of a landlord was

coming.

You see how the tenants the landlords abuse,

If you ask for your rent you’re sure to get abuse;

They’ll pester your brains about lots of repairs,

But who pays the rent, there is nobody cares.

Well, Mrs Meek, have you got my rent ready this morning. Let me see,

two weeks is 8s., and I’ll write you a receipt.--Sir, I am sorry,

extremely sorry, very sorry, indeed, sir, but--if--Oh! hang your ifs

and your buts, I suppose you mean to say that you have got no money

for me?--No, sir, you seem quite out of temper this morning.--Temper!

enough to make any man out of temper. I’ve been to a dozen houses, and

can’t get no money. If I can’t get the rent next Monday I shall put

a bailiff in and sell all off.--Stop! sir, stop, not quite so fast

about selling; I am an old woman and can tell you a little about these

houses, yes, I have lived many years in this neighbourhood, and can

tell you that they are not yours at all.--Not mine! bless my soul the

woman’s mad.--Not so mad as you may imagine, for I’ll tell you, your

father was errand boy to old Mr Neasy. When he grew up he suffered him

to gather his rents. To make long and short of the story, old Neasy

and his wife died, and the son being abroad, your father claimed the

houses, but I--Stop! stop! I don’t want to hear any more, but come over

the way and have a drop of gin, and I’ll cross out the 8s. and you

shall live rent free; but don’t say a word to the other tenants.

So home he goes and thumps down his book,

Makes his wife and his children begin for to look;

Confound all the houses, they all shall be sold,

And the old bricks and mortar I’ll turn into gold.

TAYLOR, PRINTER, 92 & 93, BRICK LANE, SPITALFIELDS.

HOW TO COOK A WIFE.

[Illustration]

While MEN spare no pains in obtaining the BEST MATERIALS for this

superlative DISH, they are often totally regardless after the first

MOUTHFUL, of the necessary precautions to render it permanently SWEET,

and if through neglect it turn sour they invariably slander the Dish,

while the fault is in themselves. To MAKE the wife a sweet companion,

but to keep her so, this may be accomplished in the following

manner:--Obtain an adequate supply of the pure water of affection,

and gently immerse her therein: should the water during this process

become ruffled, a little of the original balm of courtship will soon

restore it to its usual smoothness. The fire should be composed of true

love, with a few sighs to increase the flame, which should not be too

warm, nor yet suffered to abate entirely, as that would spoil the dish.

Coolness is often the ruin of this dish, erroneously asserted by some

cooks to be necessary, which cooks add also sprigs of indifference,

but this is a very dangerous practice, as a good wife is exquisitely

delicate and susceptible. A few evergreens, such as industry, sobriety,

and fondness, are necessary, and a moderate quantity of the spirit

of coaxing and oil of kisses may be added, giving the whole a most

delectable flavour. Garnish with flowers of endearment and kindness,

and you will then fully appreciate the delights of a dish, compared

with which all others sink into insignicance; namely

A GOOD WIFE.

ALARMING SACRIFICE!!!

SALE BY AUCTION, _ON MONDAY NEXT, APRIL THE FIRST_, OF THE FURNITURE &

EFFECTS OF HOOKEY WALKER, Esq.,

Consisting of a Glass Bedstead, Iron Feather Bed and Copper Hangings, a

pair of Tin Sheets, two Catgut Pillows and Lead Bolster, eight Portland

Stone Night Caps, and a Green Baize Looking Glass; a brass Wire Mop

with cork handle, six pounds of Moonshine, three quarts of Pigeons’

Milk, four pounds of the Report of a Gun, six patent blue Buckskin Wigs

lined with cold tripe; three barrels of Roasted Snow, twelve yards of

Sun’s Rays, a mahogany Set of China, with six Oilskin Tea Spoons, and a

Muslin Milk Pot; a Sealing Wax Copper, eight Wooden Saucepans, without

bottoms, sides, or tops; six pairs of Oak Gloves, a Double-Distilled

Moonbeam, Flannel Tea Caddie, four pounds of Patience, six Crape

Decanters with carrot corks, twelve Spider Web Wine Glasses, a Worsted

Pianoforte, with Barley Sugar Keys; a Dimity Slop Pail, four Dogskin

Tooth Brushes, three wings of a Lion, a case of Spiders’ Eyebrows,

artistically arranged; Photographs of the Buoy at the Nore, Tommy Dodd,

and the Cove of Cork playing a three-cornered game of chess, a pair

of Brass Boots with Leaden Straps, a pasteboard chest of Drawers, and

a Tombstone made of the best pigtail Tobacco, six sky-green Shirts,

a Beeswax Stove Grate with satin wood Fireirons, a Plaster of Paris

Carpet, Cambric Washing Tub; two butter toasting Forks, and a decayed

New Moon,

A SPLENDID OIL PAINTING,

“_William the Conqueror Smoking his First Pipe of Tobacco_.”

And three pairs of Cotton Candlesticks, two bottles and a half of

Smoke, a Calico Ale Barrel, a Brass Toad-in-the-hole, a yard of

Rum-steaks cut from the Bulwarks, a set of Brown Paper Knives and Forks

and a Cork Gridiron, a Paper Frying Pan, Ivory Cabbage Net, a German

Sausage Watch Chain with Stilton-cheese Trinkets, a Whalebone pair

of Breeches lined with Slates, a splendid pair of Gauze Bellows, a

quantity of Pickled Gingerbread, two Empty Bags filled with Sand marked

A.B. with the letters rubbed out, a Tallow Cheese-board, a Sable Black

Horse covered with White Spots, the second-hand Report of a Cannon, a

quantity of Public Opinion, in lots to suit purchasers.

UNREDEEMED PLEDGES,