Part 4

"Here you have the last speech and dying vords, life, character, and behaviour of the hunfortunate malefactor that vos hexecuted this morning hopposite the Debtor's door, in the Hold Bailey! together with a full confession of the hoffence vherewith he was found guilty--befor a hupright Judge and a himpartial Jury! Here you have likewise a copy of the most hinfectionate letter, written by the criminal in the condemned cell the night _after_--I mean the night _afore_ his hexecution, to his innocent vife and hunoffending babbies--with a copy of werses consarning the same--all for the small charge of von halfpenny.

"Here's tidings sad for owld and young, Of von who liv'd for years by macing; And vos this werry morning hung, The Debtor's Door at Newgate facing.

"Here's his confession upon hoath, The vords he spoke ven he vos dying, His birth and eddycation both-- The whole pertic'lers--vell vorth the buying.

"Here's an account of robberies sad, In vich he alus vos a hactor; You must to read the life be glad-- Of such a famous malefactor!"

THE HEARTH-STONE MERCHANT.

"Hearth-stones! Do you want any hearth-stones? Now, my maids, here's your right sort--reg'lar good'uns, and no mistake--vorth two o'your shop harticles, and at half the price. Now my pretty von, lay out a _tanner_, and charge your missus a _bob_--and no cheating neither! the cook has always a right to make her market penny and to assist a poor cove like me in the bargain.

"They're good uns, you will find-- Choose any, Marm, as you prefer; You looks so handsome and so kind, I'm sure you'll be a customer.

"Three halfpence, Marm, for this here pair-- I only vish as you vould try 'em; I'm sure you'll say the price is fair-- Come, Marm, a penny if you'll buy 'em.

"There, Betty! I have often said It isn't dress that makes gentility; For do observe this hearth-stone blade, How well he understands ciwility."

THE LONDON BARROW-WOMAN.

Round and sound, Two-pence a pound. Cherries, rare ripe cherries!

Cherries a ha'penny a stick Come and pick! come and pick! Cherries big as plums! who comes, who comes?

The late George Cruikshank, whose pencil was ever distinguished by power of decision in every character he sketched, and whose close observation of passing men and manners was unrivalled by any artist of his day, contributed the "London Barrow-woman" to the pages of Hone's _Every-Day Book_ in 1826 from his own recollection of her.

THE LADY AS CRIES CATS' MEAT.

Old Maids your custom I invites, Fork out, and don't be shabby, And don't begrudge a bit of lights Or liver for your Tabby.

Hark! how the Pussies make a rout-- To buy you can't refuse; So may you never be without The _music_ of their _mews_.

Here's famous meat--all lean, no fat-- No better in Great Britain; Come, buy a penn'orth for your Cat-- A happ'orth for your Kitten.

Come all my barrow for a bob! Some charity diskiver; For faith, it ar'nt an easy job To _live_ by selling _liver_.

Who'll buy? who'll buy of Cats-meat-Nan! I've bawl'd till I am sick; But ready money is my plan; I never gives no tick.

I've got no customers as yet-- In wain is my appeal-- And not to buy a single bit Is werry ungenteel!

THE DOGS'-MEAT MAN.

_Founded on Fact._

In Gray's Inn Lane, not long ago, An old maid lived a life of woe; She was fifty-three, and her face like tan, And she fell in love with a dogs'-meat man. Much she loved this dogs'-meat man; He was a good-looking dogs'-meat man; Her roses and lilies were turn'd to tan, When she fell in love wi' the dogs'-meat man.

Every morning when he went by, Whether the weather was wet or dry, And right opposite her door he'd stand, And cry "dogs' meat," did this dogs'-meat man. Then her cat would run out to the dogs'-meat man, And rub against the barrow of the dogs'-meat man, As right opposite to her door he'd stand, And cry "Dogs' Meat," did this dogs'-meat man.

One morn she kept him at the door, Talking half-an-hour or more; For, you must know, that was her plan, To have a good look at the dogs'-meat man. "Times are hard," says the dogs'-meat man; "Folks get in my debt," says the dogs'-meat man; Then he took up his barrow, and away he ran, And cried "Dogs' Meat," did this dogs'-meat man.

GUY FAWKES--GUY.

There cannot be a better representation of "Guy Fawkes," as he was borne about the metropolis in effigy in the days "When George the Third was King," than the above sketch by George Cruikshank.

Please to remember the fifth of November, Gunpowder treason and plot; We know no reason, why gunpowder treason, Should ever be forgot! Holla boys! holla boys! huzza--a--a! A stick and a stake, for King George's sake, A stick and a stump, for Guy Fawkes' rump! Holla boys! holla boys! huzza--a--a!

THE PIEMAN; OR, O LORD! WHAT A PLACE IS A CAMP.

"O Lord! what a place is a camp, What wonderful doings are there; The people are all on the tramp, To me it looks devilish queer: Here's ladies a swigging of gin, A crop of macaronies likewise: And I, with my 'Who'll up and win? Come, here is your hot mutton pies.'

"Here's galloping this way and that, With, 'Madam, stand out of the way;' Here's, 'O fie! sir, what would you be at?-- Come, none of your impudence pray:' Here's 'Halt--to the right-about-face,' Here's laughing, and screaming, and cries: Here's milliners'-men out of place, And I with my hot mutton pies.

"Here's the heath all round like a fair, Here's butlers, and sutlers, and cooks; Here's popping away in the air, And captains with terrible looks: Here's 'How do you do?'--'Pretty well; The dust has got into my eyes,' There's--'fellow what have you to sell?' 'Why, only some hot mutton pies?'"

ALL ROUND MY HAT I VEARS A GREEN VILLOW.

All round my hat I vears a green villow, All round my hat, for a twelvemonth and a day; If any body axes me the reason vy I vears it, I tells 'em that my own true love is far far away. 'Twas a going of my rounds, in the streets I first did meet her, Oh, I thought she vos a hangel just come down from the sky;

(_Spoken_)--She's a nice wegitable countenance; turnup nose, redish cheeks, and carroty hair.

And I never knew a voice more louder or more sweeter, When she cried, buy my primroses, my primroses come buy.

(_Spoken_)--Here's your fine cauliflowers.

All round, &c.

O, my love she was fair, my love she was kind, too, And cruel vos the cruel judge vot had my love to try:

(_Spoken_)--Here's your precious turnups.

For thieving vos a thing she never was inclined to: But he sent my love across the seas, far far away.

(_Spoken_)--Here's your hard-hearted cabbages.

All round, &c.

SONG OF THE STEAM COACHMAN THAT DRIVES THE OMNIBUS TO THE MOON.

Steam carriages by land are now the order of the day, sir, But why they haven't started yet, 'tis not for me to say, sir; Some people hint 'tis _uphill_ work--that loose they find a screw, sir, Such novelties, as Pat would say, of _old_ they never _knew_, sir.

Bow, wow, &c.

Now is the time for a sly trip to _the Moon_, sir, There's a new RAIL ROAD just made through _the Sky_, Or if you prefer it, we have a _prime_ BALLOON, sir, In which you can ascend with me _up sky high_. Travelling the rage is--in the tying of a sandal, We take our _tea_ in _Tartary_, or _chop_ at _Coromandel_, Then when _blazing hot_ we get with _India's gums_ and _spices_, We take a _stroll_ towards the _Pole_, and _cool our-selves with ices_. Now is the time for a sly trip to _the Moon_, sir, &c.

LIFE IN THE BACK SLUMS OF THE HOLY LAND.

There's a difference between a beggar and a queen, And the reason I'll tell you why; A queen cannot swagger, nor get drunk like a beggar. Nor be half so happy as I,--as I.

"DINNER TIME; OR, HOW TO COMFORT THE INWARD MAN."

HUSBAND: _Now then, Old Gal; cook us about another pound and a half of our home made bacon, and, then I do think I shall 'ave done for this once._

WIFE: _Yes! Tom, but recollect that Parson said on Sunday last, that poor folks, since the 'provements of cookery eat about twice as much as nature requires._

HUSBAND: _Well! then we can't do no better than practice what Parson preaches about, can we?_

ADELPHI THEATRE.

BILLY WATERS.

SIGR. PAOLO'S, Night.

BOX

QUEEN CAROLINE AND THE TEMPTER.

And so they sent a MESSENGER, To meet the Queen halfway; And give her FIFTY THOUSAND POUNDS If she abroad would stay; And never more be call'd a Queen, Or any such a thing, But leave them with their daintv dish To set before the King.

From a _brochure_ entitled the "GREEN BAG: or, a Dainty Dish to set before a King." Published by Hone, and illustrated by Geo. Cruikshank.

A DROP OF GIN!

Gin! Gin! a Drop of Gin! What magnified Monsters circle therein! Ragged, and stained, with filth and mud, Some plague-spotted, and some with blood! Shapes of Misery, Shame, and Sin! Figures that make us loathe and tremble, Creatures scarce human, that more resemble Broods of diabolical kin, Ghoule and Vampyre, Demon and Jin!

GIN, GIN, SWEET, SWEET GIN!

AIR.--_Home, Sweet Home._

Walk through London town, in Alley, Lane or Street, Eight to ten of all the folks you overtake or meet, List to what they talk about, you'll find amid the din, The end of every conversation is a drop of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin.

When the world was young, as we read in classic page, The shepherds drank the purling stream, and pass'd the golden age; For purling streams or golden age folks now don't care a pin, So that they can raise the brass to keep this age of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Hodge's Gin, Gin, Gin, Hodge's Gin.

When the weather's cold and bleak--in rain and frost and snow, The Gin, the Gin they fly to, to warm them with its glow. In summer time, to cool their heat, we see them all flock in, And joy or sorrow, heat or cold, all seek relief in Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans's Gin. Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans's Gin.

Sir Richard Birnie sad, declares that never in his time, Was seen so much depravity, want, misery and crime; And all the brawls--the riotings--the day and nightly din, Are caused by what he never tasted! filthy! horrid Gin! Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Booth's Cordial Gin. Gin, Gin, Booth's Cordial Gin.

In India, when a Husband dies--the Widow ne'er can smile, She's burnt alive, a sacrifice, upon her husband's pile; In London many Wives and Widows deem it not a sin, To sacrifice and burn themselves alive with fire of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett's Gin. Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett's Gin.

Decrepit age with furrow'd face, and one foot in the grave, Hobbles on his crutches, and for a drop does crave; Infants, e'er they plainly talk, perk up each little chin And cry, oh mammy, daddy, baby d'ont a d'op o' din. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin Gin, Gin, Currie's strong Gin. Gin, Gin, Currie's strong Gin.

In former times we'd Goblins, Fairies, Witches, Ghosts and Sprites, Who ruled the people's minds by day, and play'd sad pranks o' nights; But now the tales of Ghosts and such the people can't take in They won't believe in Spirits, yet put all their faith in Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Gaitskell's Gin. Gin, Gin, Gaitskell's Gin.

In the Reign of old Queen Bess good eating did prevail, Her Majesty and all the Court would breakfast on strong ale; But now through every Court, the folk the fashion to be in, Would _ail_ all day, unless 'fore breakfast they could take some Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, renovating Gin. Gin, Gin, renovating Gin.

Old women used to cheer their hearts and found it did agree, By sometimes taking with a friend a cup _too_ much of tea; But now they're much more _spirited_--for tea don't care a pin, And only use their tea pots for a cup _too much_ of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin. Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin.

Fighters take a "_a shove in the mouth_," though it is their bane, Jack Ketch often has a "_drop_"--Scavengers a "_drain_"; Pris'ners "_half a yard of tape_" to get in merry pin, And Actors oft get "_mellow_" with a "_mellow dram_" of Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin. Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin.

Thompson's shop on Holborn Hill is crowded like a fair, All the taps continually running out are there; Swing swang go the doors, while some pop out and some pop in, Foreigners must surely think that John Bull lives on Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, Deadley's OLD TOM Gin. Gin, Gin, Deadley's OLD TOM Gin.

This World was once deluged by water, drowning Son & Sire, But when it is destroy'd again, we read 'twill be by fire; And this must be the awful time, so prevalent is sin, As all the wicked world do burn their insides out with Gin. Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin, There's no drops like Gin. Gin, Gin, dear-seductive Gin. Gin, Gin, dear-seductive Gin.

IF I HAD A DONKEY WOT WOULDN'T GO.

THE ROYAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS was instituted in 1824. Through its exertions hundreds of cases of cruelty are annually prosecuted. Acts for the protection of animals were passed in 1822 "Martin's Act," and in 1835 and 1839.

If I had a donkey wot wouldn't go, D'ye think I'd wollop him?--no, no, no. But gentle means I'd try, d'ye see, Because I hate all cruelty; If all had been like me, in fact, There'd ha' been no occasion for Martin's act, Dumb animals to prevent getting cracked--on the head. For if I had a donkey wot wouldn't go, I never would wollop him--no, no, no; I'd give him some hay, and cry, Gee O! And come up, Neddy--Heigh Oh!

What makes me mention this? This morn-- I seed that cruel chap, Bill Burn, Whilst he was out a crying his greens, His donkey wollop with all his means, He hit him o'er his head and thighs, He brought the tears up in his eyes, At last my blood began to rise-- And I said--If I had a donkey, &c.

Bill turn'd and said to me--"Then, perhaps, You're one of these Mr. Martin's chaps Wot now is seeking for occasion-- All for to lie a hinformation." Though this I stoutly did deny, Bill up and gave me a blow in the eye, And I replied as I let fly-- At his head--If I had a donkey, &c.

THE LAST NIGHT OF THE SEASON.

IT'S CHARLEY WRIGHT'S NIGHT.

Let those come now who never came before, Let those who always come, now come once more.

COME TO NIGHT THERE'LL BE.--

"Midnight shout and revelry Tipsy dance and jollity."

MASQUERADE

(Patronised by the Haut-Ton).

the LAST THIS SEASON.--ARGYLL ROOMS, THURSDAY NEXT, June 28.--For Boxes to view the Masquerade (without mixing in the motley group), Domino, Character, and other Tickets, &c., apply to the Committee, at Mr. Charles Wright's, Opera Colonnade, Haymarket, who will supply the Wines on the occasion.

Come, come; good WINE is a good familiar creature, if it be well used.

GOOD WINE NEEDS NO BUSH:--

TRY IT!

Fine Port and bright Sherry, well worthy of name, Two Shillings per Bottle; Madeira the same; Good Cape, Fifteen-pence; and the marvel to crown, Champagne, Five and Sixpence, the cheapest in Town.

Opera Colonnade.

CHARLES WRIGHT.

----"Friends! I say that one sip of this: Will bathe the drooping Spirits in delight Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste." Charley Wright _cum_ John Milton!

WINE DEPOTS JUST OPENED.

No. 13, Northumberland-place, Commercial-road.

6, Providence-place, Kentish Town.

48, Chichester-place, Gray's-inn-lane.

4, Milner-place, Lambeth, near the Coburg Theatre.

1, Darlington-place, opposite Vauxhall Gardens.

65, Crawford-street, Mary-la-bonne.

4, Sussex-place, Kent-road.

13, St. James-street, Brighton.

A VIEW IN THE ISLE OF ANGLESEA.

The above sketch was taken from nature in the Isle of Anglesea last Autumn, from a spot not far from the seat of the Noble Marquess, who derives his title from the Island. It presents an excellent profile of the Marquess, and has often excited the attention and surprise of the passing travellers. At a moment when his Lordship is so deservedly popular the publication of this curiosity may not be unacceptable to our readers.

SAM WELLER'S ADVENTURES!

A SONG OF THE PICKWICKIANS.

Who caus'd the smiles of rich and poor? Who made a hit so slow, but sure? And rose the worth of literature?--Sam Weller.

I'm pretty well known about town, For to gain a repute is my pride, Though no vun can doubt my renown, I'm a _covey of polish_ beside! I renovates _cases_ for feet, Vhether high lows or tops is the same, I turns'em off hand werry neat, And Samivel Veller's my name!--Fol lol, &c.

In the Borough my trade I dragged on, Vith no vun to envy my sphere; I polish'd the _soles_ of each don, From the cadger bang up to the peer! Their _understandings_ I greatly improv'd, Vot happen'd to fall in the vay; And many a gen'leman mov'd To me in the course of the day.--Fol lol, &c.

Vun gen'leman--Pickvick, Esquire, The head of the noted P.C. Vun day tumbled in to enquire, If I'd had the _fortin_ to see A cove vearing Vellington _kicks_, And a Miss Rachel Vardle beside, Vot the gent had lugged off by the _nicks_, And promis'd to make her his bride.--Fol lol, &c.

ALL ROUND THE ROOM.

All round the room I waltzed with Ellen Taylor, All round the room I waltz'd till break of day, And ever since that time I've done nothing but bewail her, Alas! she's gone to Margate, the summer months to stay. 'Twas at a ball at Islington I first chanc'd to meet her, She really look'd so nice I couldn't keep my eyes away; In all my life before I ne'er saw so sweet a creature, She danc'd with me three hours, then fainted quite away.

_Spoken._--She was such a divine creature! I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. I looked languishing at her, and she did the same at me; then she gave such a sigh--such a heavy one!--you might have heard it!----

All round the room, &c.

My Ellen's rather tall, and my Ellen's rather thin, too, Her hair is rather sandy, and at singing she's _au fait_, That she should leave me now I think it quite a sin, too, I'm sure I shan't be happy all the time she is away.

_Spoken._--She was an angel! such a natural sort of woman! She wore a bustle--that wasn't very natural, though--it was rather a largish one; I suppose, upon a moderate calculation, it would have reached----

All round the room, &c.

JIM CROW.

How are you massa gemmen, An de ladies in a row, All for to tell you whar I'm from, I'se going for to go! For I wheel about an turn about, an do just so, An ebery time I turn about, I jump Jim Crow.

In 1836, Mr. T. D. Rice, who had previously appeared at the Surrey Theatre, in "Bone Squash Diablo," made his first appearance at the Adelphi, in a farcical Burletta, called "A Flight to America; or, Twelve Hours in New York". The sketch, written for him by Mr. Leman Rede, introduced Rice as a nigger, Yates as a Frenchman, and Mrs. Stirling as Sally Snow--a coloured belle, Miss Daly, John Reeve, and Buckstone strengthened the cast. "Jump Jim Crow" caught the fancy of the town at once, and the familiar tune was soon to be heard everywhere. Rice stayed through the whole season, playing an engagement of twenty one weeks, then considered something extraordinary. For a long period he performed at the Adelphi and the Pavilion Theatres the same evening, and it was calculated that in so doing he had travelled considerably more than a thousand miles, while being encored five times at each theatre for 126 nights, it was easy to set down the figure of 1,260 as representing the number of times he had sung "Jim Crow," during that period. Rice cleared by this engagement eleven hundred pounds. A street-ballad of the day informed the public that it could have:--

The Jim Crow rum, the Jim Crow gin, The Jim Crow needle, and the Jim Crow pin; The Jim Crow coat, the Jim Crow cigar; The Jim Crow dad, and the Jim Crow ma'; The Jim Crow pipe, the Jim Crow hat. The Jim Crow this, and the Jim Crow that.

JIM CROW.

As sung by Mr. T. D. Rice, with tumultuous applause.

I came from ole Kentucky--A long time ago, Where I first learn to wheel about--An jump Jim Crow. Wheel about, &c.

I use to take de fiddle--Ebery morn and arternoon, And charm de old buzzard--And dance to de racoon. Wheel about, &c.