MONTH.

ference to the 5th of November commemoration we may state that a friend of ours, not a hundred miles from Lewisham, had his platebasket walked off with, advantage having been taken by the light-fingered gentry during the pyrotechnic display. The victim will, we feel certain, sympathise with Mrs. Brown, and have cause to remember the last sixth of November for some time to come. To quote again from Mrs. Brown, the weather has been "mild for November, though it's not a month as I cares to take cold in; for it lays hold on you with a cough as I've know'd last till May, as horehound won't pacify nor squills allay, as is only things as upsets the stomach and makes one feel frequent nauseous." Up to the present time we have been comparatively free from November fogs, and we are thus far carried comfortably on to Christmas, the weather being much too mild, for which we are afraid we shall suffer by-andbye.

"Please to remember the 5th of November" as much, or as little, as ever you please; but let all Guys, crackers, and bonfires be put down by Act of Parliament. When there are so many Guys in real flesh and blood to be seen in our streets every day of the year we would, at least, abolish all make-believe ones, thoroughly coinciding with the remark of Mrs. Brown, that "Why other parties should be set in flames every year in remembrance of him I can't think, as was a good-for-nothing wagabone as the sooner he's forgot the better." For ourselves we would be content with just so many crackers as are necessary to promote the mirth at a Christmas supper-party; bonfires should be permitted only insomuch as they are useful for the destruction of "ill weeds" (not Guy Fawkes'). Selfishly speaking, we do not care to be invited to go out on a damp night, when suffering from the cold we invariably have in November for the sake of amusing a few young people who might be made just as happy with charades, Christmas- The Lord Mayor's Show is another oldtrees, forfeits, and Pharaoh's serpents. Al-fashioned November custom that we could well though the fumes inhaled from half-a-dozen of dispense with in these days of enlightenment the latter are sufficiently noxious to poison an and progress. We should like to see the entire family, no Christmas party will be perfect rumbling old coach broken up. The absence of without them-see advertisements. With re- the men in armour is a step in the right

direction. Here again we quite "hold with" Mrs. Brown's opinion, that "it's a downright nuisance" and "did ought to be put down."

As it is our daily lot to ride in Cheapside we may give it as our opinion that the block in that thoroughfare is becoming everyday more serious; the opening of Cannon-street appears to have in no way relieved the traffic. Will the Thames embankment do more? Time will show. We also question the judgment of experimentalizing with iron pavement in the very heart of the City.

quaint club-room at St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell (the very room in which Dr. Johnson dined behind a screen because he was too shabby to associate with the guests of Cave, the bookseller). It was an unusually brilliant evening. The chair was occupied by the veteran songwriter, Mr. J. E. Carpenter, and the vice-chair admirably filled by Mr. William Sawyer. Both these gentlemen made telling and pointed speeches during the evening, and amongst others who also contributed to the intellectual treat were Dr. Westland Marston, Messrs. Tomlins, Oxenford, Henry Marston, Friswell, Barnett, &c., &c. We were especially amused by the quaint way in which Mr. James Bruton gave the toast of "Music," and also with Mr. George Cruikshank (who looks not a day older than when we first knew him), who returned thanks for "The Volunteers," and informed his hearers that he had been a volunteer before the battle of Waterloo.

The abolition of tolls near London has already had the effect of reducing the fares of the omnibuses. We are informed that a proprietor on a small scale has effected a saving of £4 a-week; but as his fly-advertisement appeared on both sides of Camberwell toll-gate, he does not consider himself so very much a gainer by its removal. It has been lately stated that a proprietor of omnibuses on the Clapham-road saves a thousand a-year by the abolition of Kennington-gate. It will be a great advantage,lery,. on the Derby day, to be enabled to go right through without stoppages, and many accidents will be avoided.

Public attention has again been called to the dark Adelphi arches, owing to the discovery of a man's body in those gloomy purlieus. Whether the man was murdered or not the jury could not decide. It is to be hoped that the parish will at last perform its duty, and no longer allow that haunt of abomination, which is a reproach to the neighbourhood, to be kept open as a common thoroughfare.

Mr. Gambart's collection, at the French Galis a very pleasing one. There are just enough pictures to see without being weary, or running the risk of having that most wretched of all sight-seers' complaints, the "exhibition headache." We very much admire the "dinner screen," in six compartments, painted by Messrs. Marks, Story, Wynfidd, &c., &c.-a band of young painters known in artistic circles as the St. John's Wood clique. Not only do we admire it as a work of art, but also as a pleasing instance of such camaraderie existing amongst the painters of the present day. Especially good is Mr. Smallfield's "Outside the Convent." We have seldom seen the dreamy tenderness of twilight more successfully conveyed. Very charming, too, are the contributions by Messrs. Calderon and J. D. Watson, and the pictures by Messrs. Sandys and Elmore are 'joys for ever." Altogether, this little gallery of good pictures, softly carpeted floors, and yielding seats is one of the pleasantest lounges at the present season in London. Whilst on the subject of art, we may refer to the retirement from business of Mr. Flatou, the well-known picturedealer.

We observe that £31,000 has been subscribed to the Alliance fifty thousand pounds guarantee fund, now being raised for the purpose of prohibiting the sale of intoxicating liquors as common beverages. There can be no doubt that the existence of gin palaces, which are the nightly haunts of the lowest of the low, is one of the abuses of our large towns. Gin palaces! They are literally crystal palaces, with their chandeliers and glass in all directions; but with this wide difference, that whilst Paxton's palace is an incentive to the industry and sobriety of the working-classes, these gin-shops become At this present season, when we are flooded the scenes of riot and the hot-bed of crime. with the vapid yearnings of would-be poets, who We are tempted to quote the following, from extract all their contributions out of the magaone of Dickens's early sketches, as worthy of at-zines for the last five years, and have them tention now that the subject is being ventilated: "Gin drinking is a great vice in England, but wretchedness and dirt are a greater; and until you improve the homes of the poor, or persuade a half-famished wretch not to seek relief in the temporary oblivion of his own misery, with the pittance which, divided among his family, would furnish a morsel of bread for each, gin-shops will increase in number and splendour. If Temperance Societies would suggest an antidote against hunger, filth, and foul air, or could establish dispensaries for the gratuitous distribution of bottles of Lethe-water, gin-palaces would be numbered among the things that were." On Friday the 17th November the annual supper of the Urban Club took place, in their

re-issued with all the glory that finely-toned paper, exquisite typography, and gorgeous binding can bestow on these emanations from the Tennyson-and-water or diluted Browning school, it is especially pleasant to meet with an original, poem-doubly so when coming from the pen of so tender and polished a poet as Mr. J. Crawford Wilson. In the volume just published there are two poems-the first entitled "Lost and Found, a Pastoral;" and the second, "Home." In the first we are struck by the deep knowledge of human nature, the painterlike love of rural scenes and rural life which are described in a manner so artistic that we have quite a series of lovely country-pictures throughout the poem. The charmingly melo

dious flow of verse is so pleasant to read that
we are only induced to stop occasionally to ad-
mire some chastely ornate description or exqui-
sitely quaint simile-notably such as the fol-
lowing:

"Daisy of Wildrose thought; spoke not, but thought;
And, thinking, ever grieved; for she believed
That e'en her ringing laugh was half a sob
And half a lie-the whole a mystery

Sad as the jingling of a sick mime's bells."

tender pathos and a graceful rhythm; and we may also refer in admiring terms to the lines, by W. S. (Mr. William Sawyer), called "Two Loves and a Life," founded on the drama of that name by Messrs. Tom Taylor and Charles Reade. Miss Braddon's last novel, "Sir Jasper's Tenant," has been severely noticed in the Examiner, the critique in question being headed "Kitchen Literature," and the work classed with the London Journal, Reynolds', and the Penny Miscellany.

The Echo is the title of a new penny journal, which is published at the office of the Glowand is in the style of Public Opinion. We may also refer to the appearance of a new theatrical organ, entitled the Dramatic Telegram, and the first number of a new monthly domestic magazine, to be called the "Household," price 2d., will appear on the 1st of January, under the auspices of Messrs. Groombridge.

Admirable as the first poem is, we must say the
second and shorter one, entitled "Home," is our
favourite. It is so tender in its pathos, so touch-worm,
ingly real in its sadness, and above all so
heartily English in feeling, and having where-
withal not the slightest taint of morbid senti-
mentality, that we unhesitatingly pronounce it
to be one of the finest poems of the kind we have
seen for many a day. It is the sort of poem that
will be read and re-read by everyone. Mothers
will read it with moistened eyes, and even strong
men will experience a sensation of "chokiness"
that they cannot account for, when perusing
this tenderly mournful picture-poem.

We have been mystified by the appearance of
the one-line advertisements usual at this season.
"Hatch-ups" (not a very elegant title) has
reference to Beeton's Christmas annual, and
"Dr. Marigold's Prescriptions" is the title of
the Christmas number of " All the Year round."
Then there is " Everybody's Business," and
"The Twelfth Finger of the Left Hand but one,"
to which, up to the present, we have no
solution, except that the former is to be
published by Messrs. Simpkin and Mar-
shall. We think that "Come again" and
"Soup, Fish, Entreés, Joints, Sweets, Game,
for Three-pence" may refer to the appearance of
a cookery-book published by Routledge. As
works got up in an attractive manner and suita-
ble for Christmas presents, we may mention
"The Round of Days," a series of poems by
various authors, charmingly illustrated, and
"Pictures of Society, Grave and Gay,” being a
selection of the illustrations which have ap-
peared in "London Society," with appropriate
letterpress. Nor should we forget to refer to an
illustrated edition of the ever-popular "Mrs.
Caudle's Curtain-lectures" as an acceptable re-
print; and, while on the subject of reprints, we
may allude to "
Diamond Dust," under which
title the columns of pithy sayings which ap-
peared in "Eliza Cook's Journal," are, for the
first time, published in a collected form.

A novel, by Miss Agnes Strickland, called "How will it end?" has just been published; and we have been completely deluged with shilling books, from "Artemus Ward" and "Orpheus Kerr" to "The Sparrowgrass Papers," cum multis aliis. In "London Society" Jack Easel has been across the Solent, and, in a very agreeable article, has given a faithful account of the same ground that we went over two months ago. "Tryste in the Snow, a November Idyll," in the same number, is the title of some verses by Mr. William Reade, about which there is a

In a recent number of Fun appears an admirable cartoon entitled "Pharaoh's Serpents, or, What may be got out of the Head of the Government," representing Gladstone having set a light to a pigmy figure of Earl Russell, from whose head proceeds Peace, Prosperity, Progress, Reform, Retrenchment, and Reduced Taxation. We were surprised to see a riddle, in the same number, having reference to a drowned monkey and a horse-doctor, which we remember years ago, in one of the comic periodicals, applied to a rat in a similar condition. This might not have been wondered at before the new series, but the present excellence of Fun causes us to be hyper-critical.

At the farewell dinner given to Professor Masson, before his departure for Scotland, Messrs. Sala and Jefferson represented literature. We think it was hardly wise to publish the names of those who sent letters of regret at their inability to be present, as it proved that the best men were absent.

Professor Lindley, the eminent botanist, is dead; also Mr. Lovell Reeve and Mr. Pettigrew; and it is with much regret we refer to the void left in the literary world by the death of James Lowe, Mrs. Gaskell, and Mr. Cathrall of the Manchester Times.

The death of Tom Sayers, the noted pugilist, should be recorded-an event that formed the subject of a leading article in the Daily Telegraph, a journal that often disregards propriety and good taste in its leaders. A long account of the prizefighter's funeral also appeared in its columns. Was the Daily Telegraph trying to emulate The Sporting Life? Sayers is to have a monument it appears.

Baron Marochetti's bust of Thackeray has been uncovered in Westminster Abbey.

Mr. Ruskin has, we observe, been lecturing on art at the Working Man's College, in Great Ormond-street.

"C. and C.; or, A Friend in Need," is the title of an entertainment which has been given at St. Martin's Hall by Messrs. Coote and Cape, in which these gentlemen succeeded in amusing their audience for upwards of two hours, by

assuming various disguises and singing some admirable songs. Mr. Cape's personation of the "divine Williams" is marvellous. We regretted that the room in which they appeared should have been so unsuitable. The Polygraphic Hall would have been more adapted for the purpose, but the large room at St. Martin's Hall, like that of St. James's, is ill-fitted for entertainments of this nature, and it was as hard work for Messrs. Coote and Cape at the former as it is for Mr. Maccabe at the latter.

A farce now precedes the drama of "Never too Late to Mend," and the performance, with the horrors considerably curtailed, has been honoured by the presence of princes, princesses, dukes, duchesses, &c. A long list of titled names is advertised every day, and it looks as if the attraction of the piece was on the wane when the manager is obliged to have recourse to this unusual style of puffing his theatre.

That very bad burlesque "Camaralzaman" has been withdrawn, and afterwards repeated in consequence of numerous inquiries, at the Olympic, where the present programme is (to us at least) an unattractive one; for, though "A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing," and "A Cleft Stick" are exceedingly well acted, we are tired of the first piece, and the other is not to our taste.

The Lyceum and the Strand have reopenedthe former with an unintelligible melodrama, and the latter (remodelled and partly rebuilt) with Mr. Burnand's new burlesque on "L'Africaine," as the piece de resistance. On reference to the wording of a recent advertisement of this

theatre, we would remark that, "written ex pressly for here," sounds oddly, to say the least of it.

Mr. Jefferson reigns triumphant at the Adelphi, and Mazeppa" has been revived at Astley's.

"Three Weeks after Marriage," as now acted at the Haymarket, would be scarcely recognized as Murphy's old-fashioned comedy, first produced rather more than a hundred years ago, very little of the original text being retained; but it goes uncommonly well for all that. W. Farren informs us that one evening lately, Charles Mathews told him that there was a gentleman enquiring for him at the stage-door. "Who is he?" asked Farren. "He says his name's Murphy," replied Mathews, "and that he has called to know what you have done with his dialogue." "The Overland Route" has been revived with great success, and will most probably run till Christmas, and the return of Mr. Sothern. The last act somewhat hangs, however, and the conclusion is weak. Mathews has one of the best lines in the piece, when he says, "Never praise a man for doing his duty: when it does not make him uncomfortable, it makes him conceited." We rejoice to hear that we are to have a burlesque by Planché at the Haymarket, the subject being "Orphée aux Enfers."

Pharaoh's Serpents and the great Chang have inspired musical composers, and the result is the "Magic Serpents" and "The Celestial" galop. YOUR BOHEMIAN.

OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

ALL ABOUT THE MARSDENS: does upon the trials and temptations of youthful A CHRONICLE OF EVERY-DAY LIFE. By Mrs. Waller. 3 Vols.-(T. Cantley Newby, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square)-To those who prefer the quiet interest of a story of domestic life to the exciting vicissitudes of naughty heroines of the sensational school, we recommend these volumes. Mrs. Waller writes gracefully and agreeably her characters are true to nature, and carefully drawn, and the interest is very skilfully divided amongst them. The incidents are such as occur in the beaten paths of every-day life. The scenes are the quiet home scenes, of the refined middle-classes of England; only a few of the characters rise above the conventional types of good society, yet, out of these seemingly common-place materials, the authoress has managed to work out a three- volume novel, the interest of which is unflagging. The story is one eminently adapted for young lady-readers, turning as it

undisciplined minds, and conveying in the most temperate and charming way the means of overcoming them. Without affecting the rôle of the so-called religious novel, a tone of gentle and unaffected piety mingled with great good sense pervades Mrs. Waller's pages, and gives us a very pleasant impression of the writer. The lesson which she desires to inculcate is a religious one; it is to show that without higher guidance than that of our own weak judgments even the best resolutions end in failure and disappointment. Especially she points out the danger of self-righteousness in the example of Madeline Marsden (the eldest of three orphan sisters), whose morbid spirit of self-mortification with all its real selfishness and uncharitableness is exhibited in soft but clear outlines. It is a true reflex of those defective pietists who leave alone the opportunities of doing good which lie around them, to seek for them afar off, and

BB

prefer to encounter heathenism at the antipodes, of a character like Madeline's, as to depress and