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old grocer lost his money, amidst loud shouts of laughter from the thimble-man and his confederates. The latter fellows now taunted Mr. T. to have "another shy, as he might be more lucky next time." This language produced a sort of pushing of several of them against the grocer and his family, who, with great difficulty, extricated himself and his wife from their clutches. "I am very glad, my dear," said Mrs. T., "we have got safe from those fellows; never mind the sovereign." "The Course now looks interesting indeed; every part of it seems filled with company," exclaimed Miss Penn., "and they all appear so happy, taking their dinners and wine. I think we had better get to our coach as fast as possible, and take some refreshment; it will not be long before the horses start, I suppose. Papa, be kind enough to tell me how the time goes?" Mr. Twankey, on putting his hand to his fob, almost ready to faint, said, "It is gone! O the rascals!" "What is gone, Mr. T. ?" asked his wife. watch, chain, and seals-all are gone! by those cursed conveyancers that Mr. Smithers talked about." On recovering himself a little, he made his loss known to a police-officer, while the family made all haste to their carriage, not in the best humour.

My gold

During the time they were lunching, and lamenting their losses, a dispute occurred between the coachman of a duke and a costardmonger, by the latter fellow insisting upon standing behind the carriage in spite of the coachman and footman attempting to displace him. "What does I care for a duke," said he, « any more than a dustman! The King, God bless him! I knows would let me stand behind his wehicle if I axed him.

I supposes as how as I am made of the same flesh and blood as any of them there dukes who hold their heads so high-why I know'd the duke when he wanted a shirt." "You lying scoundrel!" replied the coachman, "how dare you abuse my master?" "It is no abuse," answered the costard-monger; "and I'll bet you a kavarten of Seager's brilliant that it is a bit of good truth. Why, you stupid fool, he was born like other men-without a shirt. Well, he wanted one then, didn't he, spooney?"

In England, it is this sort of saucy inde pendence which distinguishes its mob. Deny them not their pleasures-let them have their say, and beard the great folks if it suits their whim-grumble at any thing they do not understand or like and contentment is the result. The names of oppression and power bring forth thousands in an instant to oppose them. This sort of championship against, or perhaps in reality jealousy of, power of all kinds, even in the lowest ranks, peculiarly marks the national character.

When the foregoing battle of words had subsided, Mrs. Twankey missed her reticule. While she was listening to the fracas, some person had got up behind the carriage, and carried it off with its valuable contents. "This is all through coming to the races!"

exclaimed Mrs. T. in a tone of agony. 1 shall go distracted-I am mad already-robbed in this manner and no redress to be had, it is abominable!" "Compose yourself, my dear mamma," said Miss P.; "I see Mr. Smithers coming towards us-he will tell you and papa the proper means to get the watch and reticule back again." The plausible manner of Mr. S. went a great way towards the consolation of the Twankeys. "I will," said he, "as soon as I get back to town, speak to my friends the magistrates about your loss, and I have no doubt but it will be rectified. I will set all the thief-takers in London after the rascals -so a truce to melancholy now, my dear Mrs. and Mrs. Twankey. Depend upon it, I will be as good as my word." This soothed the unhappy couple for a time.

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"I never saw so much beauty and fashion," said Miss Pen., looking up at the Stand, my life!" "There are some pretty women, I admit," replied Mr. Smithers, "and also a sprinkling of beauty and fashion; but for the rest" (shrugging up his shoulders), they come under the denomination of well-dressed folks, nothing more-persons wholly indebted to the tailor and dress-maker for their appearance." "You are too severe," answered Miss Pen.; but pray who is that fashionablydressed female, who seems in such high spirits, and to whom all the gentlemen are paying so much attention?" "O, I perceive," said Mr. S., "the person you allude to is a lady newly come to a title; but I hate scandal, 'pon my honor I do-yet they do say she had at least five keepers before." "Poor dear lady! out of her mind!" answered Mrs. Twankey; "what a pity to be so afflicted!" "O no, my dear madam," said Mr. S., suppressing a laugh, "before she could get any one in the mind to be her partner for life-"(whispering in her ear). "Indeed! you surprise me, Mr. S." replied Mrs. Twankey. "Nothing new for fashionable people to marry so-an everyday sort of thing-a mere bagatelle!" answered Mr. S. "Who is that sallow-complexioned, smirking-looking gentleman near her?" asked Mrs. Twankey. "He is a great lawyer when on the bench, Mr. Justice "said Mr. S. laughing; "but having left his wig behind him, he has not a particle of either law or justice now attached to his person." "O fie!" observed Miss Pen., "you are really too severe; but who is that gentleman appearing to be rather lame, whom the crowd are gazing upon-is he not some public character?" Yes, my dear Miss Penelope," answered Mr. S., "he is a very public character, but strange to say he is always at home." "How very odd," said Miss Pen., " Not at all, Miss Pen.! I should have said his talents are of such superior description he is at home everywhere." But I should like to know if you can tell me, who is that young gentleman, in conversation with the dashing young lady near the corner of the Stand? Mr. S. replied with a smile, "He is one of our celebrated singers, and a good fellow into

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the bargain; but, however his notes may prove attractive elsewhere, they will not pass current here, without they are indorsed with the cash account for the sport. 'That's the time of day' to the jockies and trainers; the pleasing sounds to them are 'Post the poney -down with the dust-P. P.' but you must excuse me, my dear Miss Penelope, every thing in its place, when we are at Rome, you know, we must do as Rome does."

"But hark! I hear the bell rings for saddling," observed Mr. Smithers,--" look out, my dear friends, make the most of your time, and listen to B- - there. Goldfinch, in the Road to Ruin, is a mere apology to B--for the description of a race. He is an eccentric character altogether,-look-his hands, his his legs, his arms, his head, are all at work; his frame is almost reduced to a jelly with agitation. The Bank-the Reform question, the world, in fact, every thing is lost sight of in his anxiety at the race; he is one of the favorites of fortune. He is known to carry with him one of his fine Holland pillowcases to fill with the money produced from his bets; and he brings his dog-cart with him, after the races, to Tattersall's to carry off the large sums he wins to the Bank. Listen! There they go-now they are off-Hæmus takes the lead: Bras de Fer second; Cuidad Rodrigo following, accompanied by Slight and Colwich; good-well meant I like it. Look at Riddlesworth, Vestris, Caleb, Africanus, Fordonsi, and Pigmy, on the outside: just as I wish them,-Judgment! Excellent! and not lost in the mob. Now they are on the turn :See-see-see-Colwich is distressed; Rattler no chance; Roadster out of it altogether; Surprise attracts no notice, and Cressida done up! The corner is gained, I am all alive again-Beautiful! Delightful! Charming!-See how close they are together. Behold Hæmus, Riddlesworth, Cuidad, and Fordonsi, all in front. Go along my pretty ones; the winner is amongst them! Riddlesworth for a thousand. Ha! do my eyes deceive me Spaniel and Incubus appear to be creeping up in a good place; Silenus is of no use; she lags-declines. What a picture for an artist! There's stepping out for you-only look at the action: talk of Opera dancers Psha! Take notice: Incubus, Fordonsi, and Ciudad are as close together as a pill-box. What a prime racer is Riddlesworth!—a picture of a horse, there's nothing like Rid. on the Course for blood and bone. The whip the whip! make play, my boy, and you can't lose it! Take care of that Spaniel! Now I look again it is dangerous. Spur Riddlesworth, boy-get over the ground if it break your neck! The race is between Riddlesworth and Spaniel; it will be a near thing.

You don't name the winner for a thousandthey are neck and neck. See what a plunge Spaniel has made; very near winning it." "Near it!" exclaims the steward, Spaniel has won by three-quarters of a length." "Only look, my dear Mrs. Twankey, at

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Why," replied Mr. Smithers, "I must admit that's a puzzler. Instead of knowing, they should be termed 'foolish ones.' As a proof of their sagacity and turf-knowledge, 50 to 1 was the betting against the winning horse; in fact, Spaniel was never named as having any chance by the knowing ones."

"Get

Mr. Smithers having made his bow, the Twankeys immediately prepared themselves to leave the Course; but as many things happen between the cup and the lip, the 'pitiless pelting storm' soon made its way through all their finery; and, before they could close up their carriage, another misery of life presented itself; the carriage hinges were out of repair, and some considerable time elapsed before they were protected from the weather. on, post-boys," cried Theophilus Henry, "and stop at the first respectable inn you come to." The lads went off at a good round pace; but, on their coming in contact with numberless carriages, where the roads meet, smack went a pole through the pannels, the violent shock of which nearly upset the whole of the Twankeys in the mud. To describe the consternation and fright of Mrs. and Miss T. is impossible: life could scarcely be kept in them. After the confusion and swearing had a little subsided, and they had recovered themselves without injury, the supposed aggressor having left his card by way of reparation for the damages done to Mr. T.'s coach, which in their hurry they did not perceive had only the name of Thompson on it-thus getting rid of the accident altogether, and saddling the expences upon the Twankeys. They again made progress on the road, when the carriage pulled up at a tolerably-looking decent house. On getting out, a mob of boys had assembled round the door, and the first salutations the Twankeys met with-'What a shocking bad bonnet that female woman has got on her head!' Only look at that queer tile upon that old chap's nob!' and other like most agreeable greetings, accompanied with loud shouts of laughter, and other marks of ridicule. To mend the matter, or rather to make a bad introduction worse, every room was crowded with company; the bells incessantly ringing; the cries of Waiter-waiter,' from the top of the house to the bottom; plenty of orders, but no attention paid to them; and several persons intercepting the servants, and fighting for hot water, bread and butter, &c.

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After the patience of Mrs. T. was completely tired out, and calling the waiter fifty times at least, she said, "I insist, man, you will pay some attention to what I want.' Insisting won't fit here, Ma'am," replied please, but who cares for it? You are only the waiter, you may insist as much as you one of God A'mighty's customers; and if the

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chovies had'n't come down so fast, and drove you into this here house, ve shou'dn't have had you at all: but I can tell you, Ma'am, for your comfort, the cream is all gone-no milk is to be had; and if you stop here until midnight, you will not get any thing: we are drained quite dry with every thing in the liquor vay.”

The Twankeys found it useless to complain, and bore all their misfortunes with a kind of stoic consolation-that their troubles would soon be over; but, after repeated exertions made by Theophilus at the bar, with persuasions and almost threats, some refreshments were obtained for his almost exhausted mother and sister. The post-boys had attended to their horses, and the Twankeys, being in a little better humour, made another start for London.

The streets of the metropolis were duly gained; the gas-lights seemed to send forth more brilliant rays than ever to the anxious eyes of Mrs. Twankey. The old grocer began to chuckle to himself, that like his predecessor, Johnny Gilpin, he had gone farther than he intended, but got safe home at last. The horses, like hack horses in general, upon feeling the stones under their feet, trotted along merrily without the whip; even the post-boys were glad their tiresome journey was at an end. Miss Penelope Twankey, quite disappointed, fatigued, and out of temper, that neither her 'dear self' nor her great fortune had made any conquest; and Theophilus, the best informed of the family of the Twankeys, equally disgusted that the day had turned out a bore instead of a record of pleasure. The name of Twankey, on the shining brass-plate, was never viewed before with half such pleasure by the family. The knocker's rattling peal occasioned the door to open in a twinkling, and the family were at length seated by their own fire-side. The joy of Mrs. Twankey was so great, that she could not disguise it, and began humming the wellknown air:

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Still be it ever so humble, there's no PLACE like

HOME.

It is true, that Mrs. T. did not sing the above pathetic ballad exactly after the penetrating strains of Miss M. Tree, neither did it resemble the harmonious notes of Mrs. Waylett; but, nevertheless, it came from the heart. "Thank God," said she, upon seating herself in her elbow chair, "I am once more at home: the watch and reticule we shall have again, I hope, through Mr. Smithers; if not, I am at home and no matter; if ever they catch me again at the races, why then my friends shall tell me my name is not Twankey, and I am not satisfied with my home."

"Yes, my dear," echoed Mr. T., and I will allow those blackguard little boys again to insult me with the prevailing, foolish, unmeaning phrase of "What a shocking bad hat

you have got! if ever they lay hold of me more. No more races for me. No more thimbles for me; I shall hate the sight of a thimble till the last hour of my life."

"La! Pa," exclaimed Miss Penelope, do not be so angry about the loss of a sovereign." "Well, I wont; I'll bear in mind with cheerfulness," said old Twankey, “one of my copies which I used to write when I was a school-boy-all's well that end's well!""_ Metropolitan Mag.

CANINE INGRATITUDE.

The dog, of all the animals in the creation, has ever been regarded as the peculiar friend and companion of man. Among the most conspicuous of those qualities which bind him to his master, and render him amiable to mankind, is that of gratitude; gratitude, which no ill usage can shake, nor neglect can destroy. But anomalies are no less frequent in animals than in man; the latter have their moral deviations, and the former their instinctive contradictions. As a striking proof of the justness of these deductions, we will present to our readers the following accredited fact.

:

A butcher of Mitcham in Surrey, had reared a mastiff-dog from a puppy, and was so attached to him, that he was his constant company wherever he went. One day this mastiff had been eating very plentifully of some horse-flesh which his master had purchased for him, and having lost some part of it, the butcher attempted to take hold of it, in order to lay it by the dog instantly seized his arm, and tore the flesh in a most dreadful manner; not content with this, the furious animal flew up at his master's throat, where he fastened himself, and was not loosened from his hold, till some neighbours tied a rope round his neck in order to strangle him. The moment the dog felt the cord, he let go; and such was the extraordinary attachment of the butcher to this favorite mastiff, that although his life was in imminent danger, he would not suffer the animal to be destroyed. It is generally supposed that eating such a quantity of raw horse-flesh occasioned the ferocity of the animal; for, till this circumstance happened, he had always been remarkably docile.

ADVANTAGES ARISING FROM HAVING
DUMMY FOR YOUR PARTNER, AT WHIST.
If I sit down with some, I am check'd and abus'd,
Into ridicule turn'd, and, indeed, so ill us'd-
But when for my Partner grave Dummy I take,
He ever looks kind should I make a mistake;
If I play a wrong card, takes the will for the deed,
Nor says ought if I fail in returning his lead;
Should I trump his best card, or forget what is out
(A very great error in playing, no doubt),
Yet he never reproves me as others would do-
Nor says, "I ne'er saw such a player as you;
"Why the Ace Sir, was out-what a sad stupid thing,
"You should, certainly, Partner, have put on your
King."

And then, should we win, and the losers pay toll,
Dum quiet remains, though I pocket the whole;
But let me observe (by the way rather loth),
Should Dum and I lose-I must pay stakes for BOTH.

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TOM SPRING'S PARLOUR;

Otherwise the "TEMPLE OF THE FANCY!" Castle Tavern, Holborn.

Then let us be merry,
While drinking our Sherry,

For friendship and harmony can't last too long:
Be still our endeavour

That nothing shall sever

а

The Lads of the Fancy, at the CASTLE so strong. THE Castle Tavern was first opened as Sporting House, about two and twenty years ago, by the well-known Bob Gregson; but designated, at that period, under the familiar title of BOB'S CHOP HOUSE:

His house is known to all the milling train; He gives them liquor, and relieves their pain. The Castle Tavern was also viewed as a sort of finger post' by his countrymen, as the 'Lancashire House;' and considered by them a most elegible situation to give their Champion a call, on their visits to the Metropolis. It is rather singular to relate that Bob Gregson rose in the estimation of the Sporting World,

from defeat: he fought only three battles in the P. R., and lost them all. Indeed, Bob's character as a boxer reminds us of the anecdote, or rather the pun, mentioned in the House of Commons, by the late right honorable Charles James Fox, who observed of the fighting Austrian, General Clairfayt, who had been for several years engaged in one and twenty battles in the cause of his country, that the General might be compared to a drum; for he was never heard of but when he was beaten! Just so with Gregson: however, the Castle Tavern, as a Sporting House, got rapidly into note, soon after Bob showed himself as the landlord of it. The appearance of Gregson was prepossessing-he was in height six feet one inch and a half, weighing about fifteen stone six pounds: and in the course of a long day's walk in the Metropolis, or during the continuance of a week in London, a finer,

or better proportioned, athletic man could not be met with, than the host of the Castle Tavern. He was considered by the celebrated professor of anatomy, at the Royal Academy, Mr. Carlyle, a most excellent subject to descant upon; and he publicly declared that from his neck down to his waist, he never saw any man who possessed so much anatomical beauty as the late Bob Gregson. He was likewise selected by the late SirThomas Lawrence, Mr. Daw, &c., as a fine subject for their pencils to portray the beauty of human proportion. Bob possessed a constitution truly robust, with a vivacious eye, calculated to dazzle every spectator with its importance; and an arm that was

Active and strong, and vigorous to all its purposes.

Possessing good intellectual faculties, his general deportment was above all absurd affectation; nothing supercilious was to be found in his manner; and ambition was totally exempt from his breast; nay, on the contrary, Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prizeMore bent to raise the VALIANT than to rise.

Gregson, in addition to his other prepossessing requisites, was always well, nay fashionably dressed; and, in the common phrase of the day, he had a good deal to say for himself ;' and the right sort of a man, not only to attract company to his house, but to keep them together by his tact and knowledge of society. He was a good-natured fellow, and extremely liberal in his conduct ; indeed, without resorting to a pun, at that period he was viewed as a ،، Great Creature" in the Sporting World. BoB, according to his own account, considered himself a 'tiny bit' of a poet,* and he was very fond of reading the works of our great poets. In consequence of the following song, written by him in honor of Tom Cribb's victory over Molineux, he was unanimously voted, by his brethren of the fist, to the honorable situation of poet-laureate to the Prize Ring; indeed, it was reserved for BOB GREGSON alone, from his union of Pugilism and Poetry,

to recount the deeds of the Boxers in heroic verse, like the bards of old, by sounding the praises of their warlike champions.

BRITISH LADS AND BLACK MILLERS. You gentlemen of fortune attend unto my ditty, A few lines I have penn'd upon this great fight, In the centre of England the noble place is pitched on, For the VALOUR OF THIS COUNTRY, or America's delight:

* The celebrated bard, ToMMY MOORE, under the assumed signature of "TOM CRIBB'S Memorial to Congress," a little volume replete with wit, slang, knowledge of life, and also inimitable as a rich specimen of the Burlesque style of writing, has not failed to recognize the poetic fervour of the late Bob Gregson :A pause ensued-'till cries of "GREGSON" Brought BOB the Poet on his legs soon(My eyes, how prettily Boв writes!)

Talk of your Camels, Hogs, and Crabs,
And twenty more such Pidcock frights-
BOB's worth a hundred of these dabs,
For a short turn-up at a sonnet,

A round of odes, a pastoral bout,
All Lombard-street to nine-pence on it
Bobby's the boy would clear them out!

The sturdy black doth swear,
The moment he gets there,

The planks the stage is built on, he'll make them blaze and smoke:

Then Cribb, with smiling face,

Says, these boards I'll ne'er disgrace; They're relations of mine, they're OLD ENGLISH Oak. Brave MOLINEUX replied, I've never been denied

To fight the foes of Britain on such planks as those: If relationship you claim, by-and-bye you'll know my I'm the swellish milling cove that can drub my foes. Then CRIBB replied with haste,

As

name:

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You'd better stopp'd with Christophe, you'll quickly

find.

The garden of freedom is the British land we live in, And welcomes every slave from his banish'd isle; Allows them to impose on a nation good and generous, To incumber and pollute our native soil:

But John Bull cries out aloud, We're neither poor nor proud, But open to all nations, let them come from where they will.

The British lads that's here,

Quite strangers are to fear:

Here's TOM CRIBB, with bumpers round, for he can them mill.

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In Mine Host's parlour, or little snuggery behind the bar, considered a sort of Sanctum Sanctorum-a House of Lords to the Fancy, where Commoners never attempted to intrude upon the company, Bob carried on a roaring trade. Heavy whet,' or any thing in the shape of it, except at meal-times, was entirely excluded from this "Repository of CHOICE SPIRITS;" and where Champagne of the best quality was tossed off like water; Madeira, Claret, Hock, and other choice wines, handed about with the utmost sang-froid; and Port and Sherry the common drink of the snuggery. It might be invidious, if not improper, to mention the names of some of the visitors who spent an hour or two on different occasions in this little spot, famed for sporting, mirth, harmony, and good fellowship; but let it suffice, and with truth, to observe, that persons of some consequence in the State were to be seen in it, independent of artists, and other men of ability, connected with the gay Metropolis.

The late Jack Emery, so highly distinguished as a comedian on the boards of Covent Garden Theatre, in a number of characters which he made exclusively his own; and a man of immense talent in every point of view, spent many of his leisure hours in the above snuggery. Emery was a great patron of Bob's; and Gregson, in return, was most sincerely attached to the entertaining, liberal-minded comedian. NATURE, enriched by art, had rendered the late Mr. Emery a man not often to be met with in the walks of society as a comic actor he was unrivalled; and, viewed as an amateur artist, some of his paintings, which he exhibited at Somerset House, were greatly admired. In the character of a musician he was considered above par. And though he could not produce

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