SEPTEMBER 28, 1861.]


FU N.


 Their bursting boots and shocking tiles,
 Their lack of ready browns,
 Prove fortune can't be always smiles,
 But that she sometimes frowns.
 Our poor young friends each day repeat,
 They really must retrench,
 GREEN'S hard and fast in Whitecross Street,
 And JONEs is in the Bench.
 But what's the oddest perhaps of all,
 (And here we're all the same),
 Poor Kettledrum "a brute" they call,
 Themselves they never blame.
 And now a moral having drawn,
 Apply it as you may,
 I'm off to see The Colleen Bawn,
 And wish you a good day.


 EXTRACT FROM A DIARY FOUND NEAR PRISON.
 Tuesday.
 IND what you're a doing up there
 None o' your larks! You ain't a or-
 ficer!"
 'Tis the voice of the policeman that
 calls me back to earth.
 "Unknown and humble friend!
 S Trusty guardian of the night!" I
 say, "I am the God of Love en-
 'i throned on golden clouds!"
 "No you ain't! You're on the
 lamp-post. I know you. Come
 down!"
 I e I read a letter. See! Behold!"
 I explain.
 But you mustn't read letters on
 Slamp-posts! It's agin the law."
 It is the custom of my country."
 Oh!" says the official, "if it is the custom of your country, I don't
mind this once; but don't do it again."
 And the echo of his boots died away in the far heavens.
 Midnight has struck. The stars are still on high; the surf lashes
the shore; the winds roam over the expanse of ocean. I am at the
back-door. A bolt is drawn. I enter. I grasp a hand, and sink
upon my knees.
 "EMILY!"
 Hush!" is the reply. Master's a light sleeper."
 It is the servant-the confidante. I follow her. We go through a
kitchen, cross a paved court, and stand under a shed close to the
stables; the doors behind us have been left open.
 But, EMILY," I say, "where-"
 I am interrupted by a voice, the same that summoned me upon-the
lamp-post, which cries, "Anybody hup ? Do you know as this door is
open ?"
 The girl whispers, "It is master!"
 "No," I say, "'tis the policeman."
 She trembles at my words. Such power has the sound of my voice
over the female heart.
 "No," she repeats, "it's master. I hear him coming down the
stairs. Get in here."
 She points to a water-butt close by the shed.
 "Never!" I reply.
 Is anybody hup ?" says the policeman's voice again.
 "Miss will come to you!" whispers the frightened maid. "The
water-butt is empty."
 I shall catch cold."
 "Not in an empty butt. If master catches you, he will give you in
charge for a thief."
 I jump into the butt that instant!
 It is not empty; it is half full of water, cold water, of the iciest
 temperature. At the same moment the lid of the butt is closed, and
 I heard the hasp fastened over me.
 The voice of the policeman exclaims, "It is a burglar. I've got
 him safe. Oh! MARY HANN; dressed at this time o' night! MARY
 HANN, is it a burglar or is it a follerer ?"
 "Ho! HEN-E-RY !"
 It is a young man, then, and I'll take him to the station on charge
 of being found in a dwelling 'us under suspicious circumstances."
 How I trembled in the inside of the water-butt! not from fear, but
 cold. The frigid element reached to my waist.
 HEN-E-RY, if you look into that water-butt, I'll never speak to you
again !"


 Go to Bath !" said the brutal spy.
 Io I! I':N-E-RY, how can you use such words to me ? Conio lohre,
into this corner, and I'll tell you all; then we can go into the pantry
whero the joint is."
 I heard a sound of smothered laughter and departing footsteps;
then all was silent.
 My situation was horrible, excruciating, maddening. I ought to
have been in EMILY'S boudoir. 1 was in the water-butt, closed down.
I strove to raise the lid-impossible I rested my back against the
sides, and tried to lift my legs up. The sides were slimy, and I wont
in over head and ears. I rose, like an angry river-god, and knocked
my head against the lid, which knocked me down again. I kept this
up, or rather I kept this up and down, for several minutes; it restored
the circulation. In one of my plunges my fingers found a holo in the
side-doubtless the hole in which was placed the tap. An inspiration
seized me! I ducked again, but could not find it! Again! again
again! At last, I turned the tap on from the inside! The water
flowed out slowly, and finally left me dry-that is, comparatively
dry. Overcome by my novel aquatic experiments, I sank to sloop.
 The noise of voices hummed outside my amphibious dungeon.
 The lid was raised,-the light of day poured on me. A crowd of
 servants, the policeman, and the accursed man in the straw hat stood
 round shrieking with idiot laughter!
 I was the victim of a plot!
 I looked up, and detected the blond head of EMILY behind a
 window-curtain.
 "Hope you won't take cold," said the man in the straw hat.
 "Learn for future-not trouble ladies-ridiculous letters-sorry JANR
 put you into full butt-her own bit of mischief. T directed her to
 show you into dry one. Cab at door-tako you home-and sovereign
 -buy brandy with!"
 I shrieked with rage. From that moment I swore revenge against
 perfidious Albion,-its daughters, mothers, wives, and sisters
 Revenge! Revenge!
 Monday.-Huzza! I am rich! I have coats! T have boots! I
 have jewels! I have shirts! Eureka! T have found them. The
 high-souled artist no longer is despised. Ho is loved. No longer is
 he hungry,-he feeds! I have lobsters! I have wine! Cigars and
 seltzer-water!
 Miss JEMIMA GRIM.JAW is not young,--lho is not handsome. Her
 teeth are terro-metallic ; she wears a front-a velvet braid and pearl
 locket bind it to her brow; what matter ? She yearns to the artist.
 She provides him money; but truth is imperative,-shle is mean !
 I have had 600 of her. I wanted more. She gave it,-but said
 that it distressed her. I must have more-must. I will. It is
 written,-the flat has gone forth.
 Tuesday.-Sho refuses I will crush her! The pig The beast!
 The dolt! The idiot! The she-brigand I have her letters. Let
 her beware The high-souled artist will not be buafled. I will have
 5,C00 or publish. Ha! ha! JEMIMA I will tear off thy false front,
 and show thee as thou art!
 Wednesdayj.-I have seen her! The interview was stormy. I
 struck her! She provoked me. Her nose was red with tears.
 Bah! I hated her! I have the money! Now, land of fogs and
 filthy beer, I fly thee, and for ever! I triumph and-
 *
 Friday.-Rage, desolation, and despair! I am arrested! I am
 condemned I cast this protest from the window ofmycell. Obtain-
 ing money on false pretences." Hateful English! I defy you, and
 will be revenged! They will cut off my hair-my moustache! Olh,
 agony! I can no more! VINCENTIO.


 QUITE A DIFFERENT AFFAIR!
 ON Sunday last the EMPEROIt NAPOLEON was present at a bull-
 fight at Biarritz. PRINCE NAPOLEON was very nearly present at
 Bull's Run in America. We couple these facts because they are so
 entirely unconnected. Bull's Run is of no kin whatever to anything
 in the shape of a fight!
 Bull-running in England was put a stop to at Stamford, in Lincoln-
 shire, about twenty years ago. It has re-appeared recently across
 the Atlantic. Here again ends all similarity. In Stamford, Bull-
 running was attended with considerable danger; in America, the
 desire to spare pain and save the effusion of blood is a movement,-
 a very extensive movement,-in the right (about face) direction.


 MusicAL MEM.-A new song is just published entitled "The Sea-
 King." We understand a companion ditty is in preparation, to be
 entitled The Finding."


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