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beautifully formed, and of a lovely countenance.

She first let down

her hair, (a light auburn,) of a length descending to her knees, which she twisted round the projecting part of a blacksmith's anvil, and then lifted the ponderous weight from the floor. She also put her bare feet on a red-hot salamander, without receiving the least injury. May Fair is now become the site of aristocratical dwellings, where a strong purse is required to procure a standing. At Horn Fair, a party of humorists, of both sexes, cornuted in all the variety of BullFeather fashion, after perambulating round Cuckold's Point, startled the little quiet village of Charlton on St. Luke's day, shouting their emulation, and blowing voluntaries on rams' horns, in honour of their patron saint. Ned Ward gives a curious picture of this odd ceremony-and the press of Stonecutter-street (the worthy successor of Aldermary Church-yard) has consigned it to immortality in two Broadsides, inspired by the Helicon of the Fleet,


'Around whose brink

Bards rush in droves, like cart-horses to drink,

Dip their dark beards among its streams so clear,
And, while they gulp it, wish it ale or beer;'

and illustrated by the Cruikshank of his day. Mile-end Green, in ancient times, had its popular exhibitions, which almost constituted a fair!

'Lord Pomp, let nothing that's magnificall,
Or that may tend to London's graceful state,
Be unperfurmed--as showes and solemne feastes,
Watches in armour, triumphes, cresset-lightes,
Bonefiers, belles, and peals of crdnance.
And, Pleasure, see that plaies be published,
Maie-games and maskes, with mirth and minstrelsie;
Pageants and School-feastes, beares and puppit-plaies:
Myself will muster upon Mile-end-greene,

As though we saw, and feared not to be seene.'

And the royal town of Windsor,† and the race.course in TothillFields, were not without their merriments.

*A New Summons to all the Merry (Wagtail) Jades to attend at Horn Fair.A New Summons to Horn Fair: both without date, with wood-cuts.

The Three Lordes and Three Ladies of London,' 1590.

On Wednesday the 13th, at Windsor, a piece of plate is to be fought for at cudgels by ten men on a side, from Berkshire and Middlesex. The next day a hat and feather to be fought for by ten men on a side, from the counties aforesaid. Ten Bargemen are to eat ten quarts of hasty-pudding. well buttered, but d-d hot! He that has done first to have a silver spoon of ten shillings value; and the second five shillings. And as they have anciently had the title of The Merry Wives of Windsor, six old women belonging to Windsor town challenge any six old women in the uni verse (we need not, however, go farther than our own country!) to outscold them. The best in three heats to have a suit of head-cloths, and (what old women generally want) a pair of nut crackers.'-Read's Journal, September 9, 1721.

"According to Law. September 22, 1749.-On Wednesday next, the 27th inst., will be run for by Asses, (!!) in Tothill Fields, a purse of gold, not exceeding the value of Fifty Pounds. The first will be entitled to the gold; the second to two pads; the third to thirteen pence halfpenny; the last to a halter, fit for the neck of any ass in Europe. Each ass must be subject to the following articles :

No person will be allowed to ride but Taylors and Chimney-sweepers; the for




THE cobbler declares the times want 'mending,'-that his 'little awl' is insufficient to support him, although he is the 'last' to complain.


The watchmakers say their watches 'don't go,' and they shall be 'wound up' if the spring' does not produce a movement.' Even the undertakers complain that their trade is 'dead;' and the little ale brewers, that everything in their line is flat, stale, and unprofitable.' Cabinet-makers are compelled to return their bills to their drawers;' and chair-manufacturers vow they have not a 'leg to stand on.'

Bed-manufacturers say these are not times for 'feathering their nests,' and that they are obliged to bolster up' their business by getting tick' wherever they can.

The trunk-makers, when others talk of distress, hold up their hands and cry, they never saw such a deal,' and that they daily see more cases of distress than packing-cases!

The little wine merchant declares, like the 'cabin-boy,' that he is wrecked in sight of port!'

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The poulterer, that purchasing stock is really making ‘ducks and drakes' of his money, for all his customers are 'on the wing.'

The rope-maker finds 'spinning a long yarn' as unprofitable as an author's writing 'wonderful tales' without the prospect of a publisher, and thinks seriously of making a rope for himself.

The hackney-coachman says that the omnibuses have run away with his customers, and that his vocation is all at a―stand!


Ask the market-gardener How are turnips?' or 'How are potatoes?' and he answers that they are 'Flat-very flat.'

And thus it is with every calling and profession. Some have recourse to emigration, and, of course, many journey-men become travellers from necessity.

The philosophers say there is no such thing as colour, yet the times certainly look black, and everybody looks blue.

The want of money is undoubtedly universal, and the smallest change would be acceptable.

mer to have a cabbage-leaf fixed to his hat, the latter a plumage of white feathers; the one to use nothing but his yard-wand, and the other a brush.

No jockey-tricks, too commonly practised, will be allowed upon any consider


No one to strike an ass but the rider, lest he thereby cause a retrograde motion, under a penalty of being ducked three times in the river.

No ass will be allowed to start above thirty years old, or under ten months, nor any that has won above the value of fifty pounds.

No ass to run that has been six months in training, particularly above stairs, lest the same accident happen to it that did to one nigh a town ten miles from London, and that for reasons well known to that place.

Each ass to pay sixpence entrance, three farthings of which are to be given to the old clerk of the race, for his due care and attendance.

Every ass to carry weight for inches, if thought proper.''

Then follow a variety of sports, with an ordinary of proper victuals, particularly for the riders, if desired.'


· Run, lads, run! there's rare sport in Tothill Fields !'



No. I.


FAIR seems she unto mortal sight

As forms which haunt the dreaming-land;
Yet mingles with her beauty bright,
A something of command.

A calm and gentle sense of power
Is throned upon that lovely brow;
But 'tis unto the spirit's dower

Of sweetness that we bow.

And to the deep affections shrined
Within that bosom free from guile ;—
The purity of heart and mind

That beameth in the smile.

The spirit of a lofty race

Breaks through the softness of her mien;
Yet blends she still, with matchless grace,
The woman with the Queen!

Let England's chivalry draw nigh

Her throne,—to watch with holiest zeal,-
And guard with noblest fealty
Its honour and its weal!-

And England's people round her form
A bulwark of brave hearts and true,
Whose strength of love, nor art, nor storm,
Nor years, shall e'er subdue!

And while her goodness charms away

From Faction's self its subtlest wiles,
Long may she rule with golden sway
The Children of the Isles !

No. II.


My mother, most beloved! upon thy breast

Now let my tears flow forth!-The pomp is o'er, And the strong rush of feelings, late suppressed

In their full tide, may be controlled no more!

I have kept down my swelling heart, and stood
Before my people with a brow serene,
Quelling, as thine and Albion's daughter should,—

My nature's weakness through th' o'erpowering scene.

A Mighty Nation's voice, with loud acclaim,
Hath hailed me Sov'reign of the brave and free,
And mingled rapturous blessings with my name!-

I wait a holier benison from thee!

Soothe thou the tumult of my soul away

With thy calm accents, mother, dear and mild; And o'er thy daughter's loftier fortunes pray!

A Queen! a Queen!-'tis more to be-THY CHILD!

No. III.


A SCENE of such high pomp and sumptuous state,
As only on earth's regal children wait,
Is here, yet thrilling with emotions strong
Each gazer's spirit in the glittering throng.

Supreme in grace, before God's altar stands
A radiant pair-the Lady of the land,
With her soul's chosen;-and the sacred vow
Is breathed, which links their fates for ever now!

The sceptred Sovereign of broad realms is there,
All trust-all Woman-as the humblest are;
And softly unto him her beaming eye,
Affection-lighted, turns confidingly.

Guard well thy treasure, Prince !-The giant arm
Of England's self may shield her Queen from harm,
But only thine can be that dearer part
From wound and blight to save the Woman's heart!

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WHAT is the world to a man who has not seen Paris?

Why, in sober sadness, such an one is not fit to live, and, what is worse, will not be allowed to live. O Miss Muggins! Miss Muggins!-defend me, ye powers, if any powers there be that preside over untravelled young gentlemen, from the horrors of another teaparty at the Mugginses!

Paris-Paris-Paris? Never been to Paris? What! not to Paris? -not at Paris? Astonishing!-incredible!-can't be! Never heard of such a thing! Who'd have thought it!

Such was the entertainment I received the last night I took tea at Muggins's. Muggins had travelled-so had his wife, Mrs. Muggins, -and so had his daughters, Emmeline and Philadelphia Muggins;they had actually, bodily, substantially, and in the flesh, been to foreign parts-boldly dared the perils of the vasty deep, landed at Boulogne, and penetrated, like the allied armies, to the very gates of Paris. There was, unluckily, no mistake; they had been at Paris these same Mugginses-had been, did I say? By King Pepin! they are at Paris now!-they were at Paris when I took tea with them in Camomile Street-they have been at Paris ever since. Their hearts and souls, eyes, ears, noses, fingers, and tongues are at Paris; and all they can talk of, think of, or dream of, are the men and women, streets and lanes, sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of Paris-Paris-Paris!

'Confound the lot of you!' said I to myself, as I turned the corner into Bishopsgate Street, after having bid an affectionate good night to all the Mugginses-'confound the lot of you! where did you forget to learn manners? Here have you been crowing over me all the evening, because I have not, like yourselves, taken advantage of the present unprecedentedly low fares, and earned the reputation of a traveller at a cheaper rate than I can stay at home. Who would make his life miserable in this way, when thirty shillings there, and thirty shillings back, will make a man of him? Who that can get a Continental reputation for sixty shillings would allow himself to be crowed over in this manner. I'll be even with the Mugginses. I will go to Paris, through Paris, and come out at the other side, that I will. I'll book myself all the way this very night, and start before daylight in the morning. Au revoir, mon ami Muggins!'

'But with the morning cool reflection came.' A passport I must have; and, as it did not suit my views to pay for a passport at the Foreign Office, I went off to the office of the French Embassy in Poland Street, indicated by a little shabby house, with a little shabby green door, and a little shabby brass plate, as the establishment where letters of introduction to the Gallic territories might be had for the asking. I entered my name, age, profession, destination, with several other little particulars, in a book kept for the purpose, and was desired to call again at the same hour on the following day. This little affair being arranged, I betook myself to the Regent Circus, that common centre of the travelling world, and stood for a long time undecided what course to adopt. I had two objects in view. Paris was, of course, the first; but money was the second. Vanity commanded ine to go; but economy whispered me in the ear, not to make a fool of myself in going.

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