this evening." Opened in due form, with all the solemnity which the dignity of the subject so imperatively demandswarmly supported by the "affirmatives," and vehemently opposed by the "negatives"—the specious arguments of the 'younger fry" most patiently listened to, but sagaciously refuted by the older members-the Debate assumed and maintained that high character for which the business of this society is so well known, and so deservedly famous. Indeed, our Club-the jolly Wranglers-is, you must know, allowed to be "second to none." But oh! if the worthies already described call forth our admiration, what shall we venture to say of that courteous gentleman with the pleasant smile-and prepossessing appearance our worthy chief— the President: and, as Member Say somewhat enviously calls him, the great-gun of the Society? Listen to him, as he eloquently discourses with mellifluous fluency—or volleys forth his arguments with the force and rapidity of a tornado -with a volubility only to be equalled by the velocity of an express: line upon line, precept upon precept-replete with beautiful similies, and quotations from ancient and modern poets-fall thick and fast as hawthorn blossoms on the ears of his delighted auditory. See the smile of satisfactionof exultation-that plays around his features as he resumes his seat, amidst the plaudits of all but the obdurate and discomfited Say, who will not be convinced. Such is the President-indisputably the right man in the right placeand a gentleman, who, by his talents and his urbanity, has deservedly won the respect and esteem of Our Club.

There, gentle reader, I have endeavoured to give you a little pleasant portraiture of the highly-noted "Wranglers Society," and a select few of its staunch supporters-more especially of our nearest and dearest friend-Billy Green!

Sweet gentle reader, in taking leave of you, be not too severe, I pray you. Regard not this as an attempt at a finished picture, but simply as a mere outline-sketch of my experience-in OUR STREET.

Album Gleanings.

"ONLY A FRIEND!"

BY EMILY M. MASTERMAN.

How oft have I noticed young people exclaim-
And one, for example, I think I could name,
With a glance and a smile which you must comprehend—
You have heard the expression?" He's only a friend!"

Yes, now you remember: but don't be severe,
If some folks will rhyme on a subject so queer-
There's that rackety Jones-how I wish he would mend,
But I can't say much to him-"He's only a friend!"

Do you see that fair girl, with those charming dark eyes,
And that gentleman near her, who whispers and sighs?
Ah! I know in due season how this will all end!
But oh! if you ask questions-"He's only a friend!"
'Tis a lovely Spring morning: the sun's golden ray
Streams over the altar enchantingly gay-
Why, who have we here? 'Tis a bridal, depend!
Well, I am quite surprised-" He was only a friend!”
The bride and the bridegroom have plighted their vow:
Hark! the bells-they are ringing so merrily now!
Oh! may the young wife many happy days spend-
With her husband, though once-"He was only a friend!"

The Gleaners' Literary Club.

THE possibility of establishing a College of Literary Amateurs-many of whom should be scarcely secondary to some of their professional brethren-has been practically verified by THE GLEANERS' LITERARY CLUB: in fact, it may fairly be said to have enrolled the élite of the littérateurs of its special locality. Although essentially liberal in its foundation-inexpensive-and by no means exclusive-yet, as may be reasonably imagined, its card of admission can only be obtained by the duly qualified: the possession of natural literary ability, refined taste, and educated ideas, its candidates by the constitution of the Club. being the testimonials which are imperatively demanded of

Pressing steadily onwards-unwearied and unwavering— gleaning and gathering, not only in the fields, but along the highways and byeways of literature-of romance and reality -picking and culling from the wild blossoms of youth, from the ripe fruit of maturity, from the treasures of age, from the wise, and the great, and the good of all time, however obscure or neglected they may have been, or may be the glorious emanations of that divinity which stirs within us -in due season THE GLEANERS' LITERARY CLUB may hope to accumulate an amount of intellectual wealth, as the rich reward of its patience, its perseverance, and its industry, which shall maintain and enhance the high reputation it has already so happily achieved.

Totes and Queries.

JOAN OF ARC.

NOTE.-Two French writers, M. Renzie and M. Delepierre, have published ancient documents to prove that JOAN OF ARC, the Maid of Orleans, was living long after the period when she is said to have been burnt in the market-place of Rouen. The martyrdom is a myth! According to History and Poetry she was burnt May 30, 1431; but, on the 1st of August 1439, the Council of the City of Rouen made her a gift of 210 livres "for services rendered by her at the siege of the said city.”— John Timbs' Curiosities of History, p. 220, 1857.

Query.-Can this really be verified? If so, why has History invented and maintained so sad and so gratuitous a fiction?

It is generally believed-as Monstrelet, Villaret, Lebrun des Charmettes, Laverdy, Barante, Lenglet, and many other French writers have recorded-that, after a most remarkable military career of mingled valour and fanaticism, Joan of Arc was taken prisoner on May 25, 1430, during an unsuccessful sortie which she had made on the lines of the Duke of Burgundy, then investing the town of Compiegne: that she was pulled from her horse by an archer near the town ditch; that her soldiers made no attempt to rescue her, but fled over the drawbridge and shut the gate upon her; that she defended herself bravely sword in hand until escape was hopeless, when she surrendered to the Bastard of Vendôme, who carried her to the quarters of the Duke of Burgundy. That she was claimed, three days after her capture, (not by the Duke of Bedford, as erroneously stated by some historians,) but by Friar Martin, Vicar-General of the Holy Inquisition in France; that she was sold by the Bastard of Vendôme to John of Luxembourg, who, in despite of the Friar's demand, confined her in his castle in Picardy; that the Bishop of Beauvais, in whose diocese she had been taken, after failing in his attempts at intimidation, purchased her from John of Luxembourg for ten thousand francs. That she was brought to trial as a witch and an agent of the devil, at Rouen, in May, 1431, by the Bishop of Beauvais, on behalf of the Church most unjustly condemned, and cruelly burnt.

The Practical Preacher.

ADVERTISE! AYE, ADVERTISE!

* BY UNCLE SAM.

“Advertise! Johnny Bull. Advertise! aye, Advertise! Steam-along and go-afore 'm-that's bizness! Observe how I'll experiment! Seen a thing or two in this 'ere sublunary wide warld, I guess, since I was raised! Aint I? Wa-all, never mind, old hit-'em-hard! Hexperience makes fools wise—sometimes! So, yer see, I never says no to a sartin good thing, Johnny B. Practice is better nor preachin' mostways-take my solemn word on it-strike, while the iron's hot, old feller! Don't be daunted! If yer makes a miss, at it again! There, now I've made a few specs in my time-good, bad, and hindifferent, but I calculate that the likeliest venture to haul-in the cents, take it one time with another-particklary when trade's at a stagnavation— is to put in that 'tarnal lucky-bag, the maggazeen!

Advertise! Johnny B. Whew! Snaiks and alligators! won't I. Tarnation good spec, that, aint it? the raal slick consarn, I guess; right and no mistake. I'll tell you what, old feller, 'tis of no use for a chap to have his shed full of marchandise, if he don't holler it out. You may cram-up yer storeshop with hansom' nicknackery, from potatoes and pumpkins to salt-fish and bacon-but if yer don't yell like a nigger, or screech like a red injian, who on earth will know yer want to do bizness? Goods are like gals, jest for all the world they are, Johnny, 'xactly so-for when they're in top-sawyer fashion and nice-lookin' you can't keep 'em nohow-customers will have 'em: but let 'em get a leetle bit crinkled, or fly-pecked, or patchy, or grizzly-greasy, and by jingo-jango you may lay 'em all up in lavender-flowers for keepsakes and memorandums. Aint it sorrowful?

'Onfortunately, I'm a leetle bit suspicious, Johnny B.— but it's nateral: so when I sees a store chock-full of goods, and finds as the governor never shows-up his onparralled

bargains in the' "Trickster,' or the 'Take-him-in,' or the 'Tearaway,' and don't spend a cent in making 'em known, I ses to myself, ses I, that 'ere chap aint up to the right dodge for clearin' out; or else I 'specs he's a leetle bit narvous, and half-afeared to look mister public slap in the face, like a reg'lar, cute, wide-awake, act-ive, jenial, spry, go-a-head, knock'em-down, free-country, and hindependent trader!

As for myself, Johnny, I always keeps my weather eye open, and looks how the cat jumps. What's sarce for the goose is sarce for the gander, ses I; so I wurks out the problem, bizness-like, and reckons up the chances o' makin' plunder, like an old buccaneer. There's a nateral faculty for going for❜ards with some folks 'specially geni-asses-for they always does the right thing in the right place, 'xactly!

66

Aye, that's yer sort, Johnny B. Get hold of a good 'Newse,' and clap yer figger-head in it! That'll do your bizness, I'll warrant yer-and 'specially jam an' slick too. Now what 1 advises is, jest fiz-up yer steam and shoot right off to the printin' office like a young skyrocket, and get up a stunnin' advertisement, head it with summut striking, such as 'Hawful Conflaggeration at the Oil-wells!' 'Hawribull Haccident on the Squashboy Railway!' or 'Tremendjus Rowdyin' with the Niggers!' That'll draw yer customers, regler crashers, as will clear out your storehouse fore and aft in the twinkling of a bull's-eye!

"By gum, Johnny B., if yer don't wake him up with a poke in the ribs now and then, I guess mister public will forget there's such a body in all creation as your humble sarvant! But jest give him a tweak as he goes by-kinder like, so as yer don't rile him-and see, thunder an' lightnin' wont he pull out the cents! You'll catch him alive, if yer angles for him slick and smooth-like, 'pend on it. Flare-up well wi' yer Advantajus Investmunts,' and yer 'Raally Wonderful Bargins' in all the newses and maggyzeens o' the univars' and you'll be set down for a vary sensible fellar, detarmined on doing bizness-at a hawful sacrifice!

"There's one thing quite sartin, Johnny: it aint in the power o' mortal man to do without money-filthy lucre, as Billy Shakspur says, in the old country. So yer must get it somehow-try bizness-set up as jack-of-all-trades! that'll pay, if yer mind how yer wurk it: for the whole world is full of folks that want summut-some want to sell, and some want to buy-and the only way to please 'em all, and to coax the cash out of 'em, in a slip-along way, like yer raal modal philosopher, is to go-a-head and advertise!

Advertising is jest like honesty, Johnny Bull, and I'll wager a mare to a mawkin that it pays well if you'll only foller it up. Jest try it, that's all, stranger, ses I, (for yer see I makes it a pint of conscience to heg on my buzzum friends and 'quointance,) and if it don't! why, I'm a purty con-siderable way out o' my reckonin'-that's all. Don't yer see, Johnny, that marchants and traders think nothin' of payin' a matter of fifty dollars for a sign with only their names on, such as my purtickuliar co-mates and notiable feller-cits, 'Seth Sarveall,' and 'Timothy Trickem,' blazes out nate and illigant in silver and blue, and red and yallar -slick and jam! well, now, old friend, what do you think of having ten thousand signs, with all your trading fixins complete, posted every week all about the country-in the house and out o' the house, from the parlour to the pigstye

-for less nor fifty cents? Smart that, aint it, neighbour ? I should rayther guess it is!-bangs Bannaghur anyhow, don't it? That's yer way to make 'em 'walk up! walk up!' Jest hook 'em in-pur-litely in course, Johnny-entice 'em in, and they'll buy-'specially the gals—purvided yer lays yer bait well, and captiwate 'em with howdacious bargains! That's the grand secret, 'pend on it. There now, Johnny, rub your eyes, and see if I don't advertise !”

* As the origin of the appellation "UNCLE SAM" may not be generally known, we give the following from "Mrs. Felton's American Life," which is presumed to be a correct definition. On the declaration of the war with England in 1812, a contractor of the name of Elbert Anderson, visited the city of Troy, on the river Hudson, and purchased a large quantity of beef, pork, &c. The Inspectors of Provisions at that place were Ebenezer and Samuel Wilson-the latter of whom was usually called "Uncle Sam." A citizen, casually passing by, noticing the initials E.A. and U.S. inscribed on the casks, interrogated one of the workmen as to their owners and destination, who, with ready assurance, asserted they belonged to the well-known official, Uncle Sam! It may scarcely be necessary to state that the workman was not aware of the true meaning of U.S.—the term United States being then by no means in general use. However, from that time, "Uncle Sam" has been cordially received as a familiar designation by the Americans; while "Brother Jonathan," is considered to be an offensive epithet. -The term "Yankee" is also a very objectionable one; and is contemptuously applied by the Southern Americans to their neighbours, the inhabitants of the five New England States: namely, Vermont, Massachusets, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, and Connecticut, who are considered to be models of inquisitiveness by their countrymen.

Select Copyright Poems.

THE GLEANER.

BY W. READER.

Author of The Ruins of Kenilworth, British Rifle Songs, &c.

DEDICATED TO THE GLEANERS' LITERARY CLUB.

FROM rustic cottage quaint and rude,

That woodland dell embowers,

Amid the peaceful solitude

Of waving grass and flowers,

Soon as the morning's sunny ray

Is beaming bright around,

The humble Gleaner wends away
To lease the stubble-ground.

With glowing cheek-with artless smile,
She gaily trips along,
But lingers at the meadow-stile
To hear the skylark's song:
Till, gazing on the dappled skies,
By hallowed spell she's bound-
The Gleaner starts!-then onward hies
To lease the stubble-ground.

Along the lane-through flowery glade-
By lone sequester'd nook,
Across the stepping-stones she'd laid
To bridge the shallow brook,
With bosom pure as Alpine snows,
With voice of silver sound,
The Gleaner carols as she goes
To lease the stubble-ground.

She loiters not-although the path
With briers is tangled o'er;
She thinks upon the household-hearth,
And all its scanty store:
Though stony is the way, perchance,
Her lot in life hath found,

The Gleaner speeds with smiling glance
To lease the stubble-ground.

Lo! from the breezy uplands green,
Where chequer'd sunlight plays,
What bright Arcadian harvest scene
Hath met the Gleaner's gaze!
The waving wheat-the sickles' gleam-
The leasers gathering round-
The reapers blithe-the plodding team-
The well-known stubble-ground.

Beneath an oak-with rustic grace-
Joy sparkling in her eyes—
The Gleaner stays a moment's space,
While heavenward thoughts arise:
But soon she's passed the open gate,
And smiling welcome found,
For Love doth on her footsteps wait,
Along the stubble-ground."

In gladsome mood she ranges through
The rich luxuriant fields,

And marks the liberal hands that strew
The tithe that harvest yields:
And while she tends the laden wain,
With golden wheatsheaves crowned,
The Gleaner picks the scattered grain,
To lease the stubble-ground.

Though sultry is the noontide sun-
With toil and heat oppressed,
Until the work of day is done,
The Gleaner may not rest;
Yet as the rustling bands she weaves
Which round her corn are wound,
With pride she gazes on the sheaves
That grace the stubble-gronnd.

The offering of a grateful heart
Is all she has to give:

But those "good yeomen" take her part,
Who let the Gleaner live-

Whose fields are rich in russet gold,
Whose barns with wealth abound-
Who love the sturdy peasant bold
That tills the stubble-ground.

The fragrance of the evening breeze
Fills all the woodland vale;
The tints of Autumn deck the trees,
And sings the nightingale :
The moon is up-her radiant light
Illumes the shades embrowned,
The weary Gleaner joys 'tis night,

And leaves the stubble-ground.

She hies her home: while on her head
The treasured sheaf is borne,

Yet still elastic is her tread

With harvest toil unworn:
No goblin hath the power to scare-
Nor elfin-hunter's hound;

The Gleaner's fearless as she's fair-
Although 'tis haunted-ground.

She's passed the church: it groweth late-
The Gleaner's in the lane;

Her mother's at the garden-gate

To greet her back again :

Her little sisters' voices clear
Deep in her heart resound:
For these-her household idols dear-
She leased the stubble-ground.

Lord of the Harvest! oft to thee,
The Gleaner makes her prayer;
Vouchsafe her heavenly guide to be
And have her in thy care:
Till seed-time and till harvest cease
Our cottage-homes surround
With native virtue, health, and peace,
And bless our stubble-ground.

So may we lease Life's stubble-field,
As Christian Gleaners should,
And from the sample-grain it yield,
May we select the good:

And that "good seed" which most we prize-
Which to our trust is given-

We'll sow on earth, that it may rise
And bear its fruit in heaven.

"Lease," "Leaser," "Leasing," are the terms generally used in Warwickshire for "Glean," "Gleaner," "Gleaning." The word appears to be of Dutch origin (Lesen), according to Bailey, in his Dictionary," to pick up, or gather, the scattered ears of corn;" and of Anglo-Saxon (Lesan), as given by Miss E. Baker, in her "Glossary of Northamptonshire Words and Phrases," 1854. It is also mentioned in "Akerman's Wiltshire Glossary," 1842; and "Lewis's Herefordshire Glossary," 1839. The term seems peculiar to certain counties: perhaps to those who in their dialect retain most prominently the characteristics of Anglo-Saxon origin. "To Glean"-(Glaner), is from the French, as given by Bailey.

Copyright Dramas.

THE SMUGGLER OF CALVADOS.

AN ORIGINAL DRAMA IN THREE ACTS.

(The Author's rights reserved.)

ACT I.-SCENE 1.

Characters introduced in the scene. DOCTOR HERBAL EMBERIC, formerly a Surgeon in the Navy, and now a small landed proprietor. LIEUTENANT WALTER EMBERIC, his son. MRS. DEBORAH GRONDEWS, a widow, and the sister of Doctor Emberic. PEGGY, a domestic at Doctor Emberic's, partial to Harry, and fond of singing.

(4 dining-room discovered in an ancient mansion, presenting evidence of age and decay; the walls lined with dark mahogany, with cupboards serving for sideboards contrived in the wainscot. The appearance of the place conveys the idea of parsimony or poverty. Antique chairs, with a long table prepared for supper. A single lamp burning. Mrs. Grondews, in the costume of byegone days, is taking plates out of a cupboard. Doctor Emberic enters with a bundle of medical herbs in his left hand, and a silver-mounted stick in his right. He appears annoyed and vexed.) EMBERIC.-(Striking the floor with his stick.)-What is the meaning of this, sister? Supper not ready yet? I come back tired and find nothing to eat! If this is owing to Peggy, I'll dismiss her and stop her wages. (He places the herbs on the table.)

MRS. GRONDEWS.-You are full of ill-temper to night, brother. Which of these nasty herbs have you trod upon, that you return in such a bad humour? You might put them somewhere else than on the table-cloth, I think! The nasty poisonous things.

EMBERIC.-Nasty poisonous things, indeed! These medical plants that I have gathered with so much pains and trouble, to make infusions for the sick poor who cannot afford to pay me for drugs that cost money! Am I not obliged to take payment for my bills in cyder, in vegetables, or corn, or butter, or poultry? Has not the Widow Jones brought us a dozen eggs weekly for the last three months? And my charge not balanced yet.

MRS. GRONDEWS.-And never will be, so long as she has chickens fit for roasting, or hens to lay eggs.

EMBERIC.-Well! can I help it? The natives are so obstinate that they will not be ill; and so poor and stingy, that they send for me only in extreme cases, and then I do get the best of them. Did not I cure the poacher of the rheumatism on his promise to provide us with hares and rabbits, and have not I set the woodcutter's broken leg, merely for firewood during the next three winters ?

MRS. GRONDEWS.-What did you get for curing the smuggling sailor who was shot by the Custom House Officers eight months ago?

EMBERIC.-Why only one case of French brandy, but— hush!-I expect another shortly.

MRS. GRONDEWS.-You'll burn your fingers with these smugglers some day-besides, what would your son Walter think, and he a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy too?

EMBERIC.-You are always grumbling, and eternally chattering. You'll put me in a passion presently. Hark! I hear Walter.

(Enter Walter Emberic, in the undress uniform of a Naval Officer.)

WALTER.-Good evening father! good evening aunt! What is the matter-another little skirmish between you? Why, I have been at home, on leave of absence, six days only, and you have had at least twenty-four of these little skirmishes already. Luckily you fire nothing but blank cartridge. Nothing concerning me, I hope, this time. If I have kept the supper waiting, believe me, there is good excuse for my absence.

There are bad

EMBERIC.-Nothing serious, I trust. characters abroad. Our roads are dangerous. MRS. GRONDEWS.-Walter is so venturous, I am in a constant fever of anxiety if he is out after sunset.

WALTER.-Oh! there is but little to fear from smugglers

and gipsies. This evening I have been doing only my duty to the crown. Returning home by the beach, it being low water, for three miles I could not see a single Coastguardthat appeared suspicious; and passing through the village, I saw at the alehouse there, a dozen of the "preventives' drinking with ill-favoured strangers. So I dispatched a trusty messenger to the officer at the harbour with my report. I saw also a suspicious-looking vessel, about a league from land, tacking on and off the shore-she too will be looked after by the Custom House sloop.

(Mrs. Grondews goes out, and returns, in preparation for the supper. Emberic exhibits signs of emotion). EMBERIC.-Confusion! What could induce you to meddle? These matters do not concern you. Some evil will happen; and if the Captain should discover that you have interfered

WALTER.-The Captain! Whom are you speaking of,

father?

EMBERIC.-Well, know then-but we will talk of this after supper. Here is Peggy with the dishes.

(Enter Peggy with a tray. She arranges the dishes on the table.)

PEGGY.-(Sings.)

If Harry should ask me to dance on the green,

I'll answer him "No!" which will tease him, I ween; But if he be pressing, and beg-with a kiss, I'll modestly answer him-"Yes, Harry yes!" Should he venture so far as to ask me to wed, I'll blush, twirl my ribbons, and hang down my head, Now pleas'd-and now angry-affect to dismiss, Yet wheedle him back, with a-"Yes, Harry yes!" WALTER.-(Applauding.)-Bravo, Peggy! Lively as ever. MRS. GRONDEWS.-And careless as ever! It was only this morning she let the cat

WALTER.-Out of the bag, aunt? Did she tell you the name of her sweetheart?

MRS. GRONDEWS.-Sweetheart, indeed! I would like to catch one here; that's all!

WALTER.-(Aside.)-No doubt you would!

PEGGY.-And so would 1. But that is not all. (Sings.) And then should he ask me-" What day shall it be?" I'll answer quite carelessly-"Any for me!" Yet trusting my coyness no farther than thisThe first day he mentions-"Oh! yes, Harry, yes!" [Exit. (During the singing, Emberic, Mrs. Grondews, and Walter, are seated at the supper table.)

(To be continued.)

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OR the FACE, the NECK, the ARMS, the HANDS. During the inclemency of Winter a soft and healthy Skin, Free from Roughness, Chaps, and Redness, by using WHEELER'S GLYCERINE JELLY, 143, HACKNEY ROAD, LONDON, N. E.

Bottles, 6d. each, Sold by most respectable Chemists.—Wholesale by Barclay & Sons, Farringdon Street: Edwards, St. Paul's Churchyard: Goodall & Co. Leeds: Reddish & Co. Manchester.

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which will be found the cheapest in London. Superior Brussels Carpets, from 2s. 11d. Rich Tapestry ditto, from 28. 43d.

HOUSE-First-class articles at moderate prices. No. 30, St. John's Road, opposite Hoxton Church.

Damask, from £7 15s. Ditto ditto, covered in Pekin Cloth, and stuffed, all Hair, from 13 guineas. Mahogany Washstands, with Marble Tops, from 18s. 6d. Mahogany Arabian Bedsteads,

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26, Hemsworth Street, St. John's Road, Hoxton, N.

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THE RUINS OF KENILWORTH. A POEMBy W. READER, Author of " British Rifle Songs," &c. Cloth, gilt edges, price 3s. 6d., with Ground-Plan, and Views of the Ruins and of the Castle in its perfect state in 1620. Dedicated by permission to the Right Hon. the Earl of Clarendon, K.G. "A capital Chronicle of Kenilworth."-Birmingham Journal. "Intrinsic merit: talent and research."-Coventry Standard. "Popularity is undoubtedly its due."-Gentleman's Magazine. London: HOULSTON and WRIGHT, 65, Paternoster Row.

BELL HANGER AND GAS FITTER.

4, Whitmore Road, Hoxton. Old Work Cleaned and Lacquered.-Work done for the Trade.

COWEN & CO.-GREAT WESTERN RAILWestbourne Park Road, Paddington.-District Office for Hammersmith, Kensington, Brompton and Chelsea, 51, Queen's Road, Notting Hill.-WALLSEND, SILKSTONE, SITWELL MAIN, and other Coals, of first-class quality, at lowest prices.

ADAMES DAVIS, beg's to return his sincere thanks to his AND EVE, SWAN LANE, ROTHERHITHE.

Friends and the Public for their very liberal patronage, and assures them that his Stock of WINES, SPIRITS, and MALT LIQUORS will be found unrivalled for Purity, Strength, and Quality.-REAL IRISH STOUT and HOME-BREWED ALES supplied to all Parts of Town, at 9s., 10s., 12s., and 158. per Nine Gallon Cask.

UR

RIFLE

National

Song, with Pianoforte Accompaniment and Chorus for Three Voices. By W. READER, Author of "The Ruins of Kenilworth," &c. Sung by professional Vocalists at the Grecian, Britannia, and other Theatres-Albion Hall, Myddelton Hall, &c. Commended by Viscount Ranelagh, Lord Elcho, and other Volunteer Officers. London: J. SHEPHERD, 98, Newgate Street. Price 2s.

THE ALMA PRINTING OFFICE. New Type

Good Work-Low Prices.-16, Alma Street, Hoxton, N.

London: Printed and Published by William Reader, at "The Alma Printing Office," 16, Alma Street, Hoxton, N. January, 1864.