20 F U N. SEPTEMBER 28, 1861.


A DOMESTIC CALAMITY.


 Lady of the hlouse:-" REALLY, JEMIMA, THIS IS TOO BAD. ANOTHER VASE
 BROKEN."
 Jc im a:-" WELL 'M, REALLY I CAN'T HELP IT; THEM CRINOLINES WON'T
 GO OUT OF FASHION."


 STAR-TELLING ADVERTISEMENTS.
 THOSE who have read us through two or three times, and still want further
fun, cannot do better than read the advertisement columns devoted to domestic
servants in the Morning Star newspaper. Here they will find a terseness of
style (superfluous words meaning so much more to pay) which it would be well
for the reading public if all classes of writers were to emulate. Here are no ses-
quipedalians, no Carlyleisms, no word-painting; all is short, curt, and to the point,
the use of the full stop being very liberal. Most people, on receiving their
morning papers, allow their coffee to cool while they devour the thrilling murders,
the devastating fires, and the disastrous railway accidents which appear to have
happened all at once for the especial benefit of the fifty new papers that have
suddenly sprung up. We pass by these exciting details and calmly settle upon
our favourite column, well knowing that we shall find a fitting accompaniment
to the social cup which,as has been before remarked, doth cheer but not inebriate.
 And are we disappointed ? Never ? Here, this morning, for instance:-
 Wanted, a strong Lad; one used to an oven preferred.
He must be a very strong lad, indeed, we should imagine. A little further down
the column we see the following:-
 As Infant Nurse in a family. Aged 40.
An infant nurse aged forty appears to us to be a human paradox worthy of
being classed with the spotted female and the pig-faced lady. Skipping the
next two or three advertisements, we come to one in which the advertiser
" wishes for an agency for black kids." How any one can publicly announce
such a barbarous and unmanly desire in these days and in a free country we
are at a loss to divine. The next astonishing announcement is this:-
 Cleaning wanted by a respectable woman.
My good woman, the St. Martin's baths are only twopence.


 PLEBEIAN BALLADS.
 Adopted (for the first time) to Aristocratic Circles.
 No. 2.-THE BALLAD OF SAMUEL HALL.
(The common version of this quaint and touching ballad repre-
sents how a chimney-sweep, in the bitterness of his soul,
inveighs against the false master who, by instructing him in
unprofessional practices, led him to an ignominious end. Young
gentlemen of.mimetic powers may produce an effect by singing
the present modified version over the back of a chair, in an old
gibus, and with the accompaniment of a cutty pipe, a blackened
visage, and cousin KATE at the piano.)
 MY name is SAMUEL HALL,
 Ramoneur;
 Oh, my name is SAMUEL HALL,
 Figure fit for HOWARD PAUL,
 Or the Polygraphic 'all,
 King William Street.
 I stole my master's sut,
 In the night;
 I stole my master's sut,
 Attempted for to cut,
 Almost succeeded, but-
 Didn't quite.
 He caught me on the stairs,
 With the swag;
 He caught me on the stairs,
 He took me unawares,
 His family plate he tears
 From the bag.
 Says he, "A spoon! Beg pardon,
 SAMMY, fie!"
 Says he, "A spoon! Beg pardon."
 His heart you see's a hard'un,
 And before SIR RICHARD CARDEN,
 Dragged am I.
 In vain, I say, I walk
 In my sleep,
 In vain, I say, I walk,
 For they've also found a fork,
 And CARDEN says, Don't talk,
 Chimbley-sweep!"
 I soon shall change my soot,
 Black as care,
 I soon shall change my soot,
 For one of gray; a brute
 Will cut down to the root
 Hall my 'air.
 JBut although they'll clip my 'ead,
 Still I brags,
 That although they'll clip my 'ead,
 I shall be much better fed,
 And shall wear warm togs instead
 Of black rags.
 And, hang it! if I see,
 SAM'L HALL,
 Yes, hang it! if I see
 What's the good of honestee
 To such wretched coves as me,
 Harter all.



 SUNG BY NEWSPAPER PROPRIETORS TO THE
 GUY FAUX" BOYS' CHANT.
 YoU'LL please to remember
 This month of September,
 Newspaper treason and plot;
 When ever so many
 Came down to a penny;
 'Twill never be forgot.
 Buy, folks, buy;
 Only a penn-y,
 Hurray!