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"An alarming Crisis!" brings us somewhat more circuitously to Mr. Spinks's ware-room, where we are apprised that that magnanimous individual is bent on making "the most enormous sacrifice on his fancy articles." This selfdevoted martyr, for the benefit of his fellowcreatures, offers his goods at "such prices as must excite universal astonishment!" indeed, it must be said, in justice to our dealers, that very many among them are perfectly reckless of their own interest, coming forward to proffer their goods for considerably" less than first cost," thus sacrificing all pecuniary advantage for the indulgence of an excess of generous feeling.

The catechetical style of advertising, perhaps suggested by Pinnock's educational books, is now very much the mode. "Do you keep livery servants?" is demanded: if we reply in the affirmative, the course of action lies before us. "Doudney's Liveries satisfy Masters and Servants." Ah! if our statesmen would take their measures after this conciliatory fashion, what a satisfied world we should live in! When asked, "Do you want luxuriant hair or whiskers?" it is at once easy and natural to turn to Messrs. Graham's Nioukiene, and every lady and gentleman may rely on being furnished with a fine head of hair, and those attractive ornaments—whiskers, moustache, and eyebrows." These laconic notes are appended to the advertisement: "My hair is quite restored. -Miss Orme." "I have a full pair of whiskers, thanks to your Nioukiene-H. Robb, Esq.' "It has cheated the greyness.-Mrs. Jones."

"Does your hair fall off?" enquires another; "if so, consult Mr. Taylor, and he'll guarantee to stop the falling off in 48 hours' by the application of his miraculous 'Botanical extract. "" Of course this must be some preparation of Harebell.

"Du you bruise your Oats?" is followed by some pithy remarks on a machine invented to save you the wear and tear of doing it with your own hands.

"Have you bought your Spring dress?' points at once to Hyam's new Spring Stock.

'What shall I take with my chop?" would demand serious reflection, were not a rational answer supplied: "The Picardy Sauce-luxurious, invigorating, apetizing, giving a piquant and delightful taste to fish, flesh, and fowlrefined palates instantly appreciate it, and in the wide-wide world there is not its equal. Depôt, 7, White-friar Street."

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The authoritative style is very general:Examine your Tailor's Bill! "has an awful sound, and we can imagine the look and manner in which it would have been spoken by Mrs. Siddons. Advice so excellent is followed by

At least a hundred and fifty self-qualified medical practitioners tell us of at least a hundred and fifty recipes for obtaining robust health. We do not think the following, copied from Saunders's News-letter," of August 28, 1758, promises more than we meet with every day in the advertisements of modern quacks :"The famous Doctress Brazill, a gentlewoman from Great Britain, takes this opportunity to inform the public that she cures the pain in the stomach, or side, in nine days' time; liver-grown, in young or old; foulness of blood; scurvy and pimples on the face; pains in the bones; the decay, in old or young; the gout; the bite of a mad dog; deafness, &c. She hath performed these cures in London, Bristol, and Bath, as may be proved by many in this kingdom."

The enthusiasm eviuced in advertisements for sale of wigs is borne out by the anecdote told of a peruke-maker in Paris, who had been employed in making a perriwig for a celebrated preacher who was to preach on a particular occasion before the Court: "I'll be hanged," said he to one of his companions, "if his Majesty or any man of taste will pay much attention to the sermon to-day." "I remember," says Doctor Burney,

seeing an advertisement in an English newspaper, of a barber who undertook to dress hair in such a manner as exactly to resemble a peruque." Indeed, advertisers get quite rampant when on the subject of hair.

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Among the hidden treasures lately brought to light we have to rejoice that "the recipe for the Florentine Restorative Hair-balm,' lost to the world for a hundred and fifty years," has been rescued from oblivion, as it has been discovered among valuable family papers, which enables Mr. S. Bergani to supply the public with the restorative"-itself so miraculously restored.

"Napoleon Price," the great Napoleon, he might well be styled, boldly comes forward to pronounce "Shaving a luxury;" a fact which might have been doubted, if he had not added that it only becomes so by the use of his Ryphagon, which surpasses anything ever invented for shaving." How much those persons lose, who do not secure the Ryphagon, is conveyed in a few words-" the luxury of a good shave can be enjoyed only by those who use the Ryphagon."

It is seldom that an abode suited to every taste like the following, is advertised. We find, from the Bath Journal that possession may he had of "an old Gothic Cathedral in the west of England, with a large assembly-room and card-room adjoining to the choir, all readyfurnished, fit for any purpose." Surely a place so suited to every state of feeling cannot have remained untenanted-the devout penitent, seeking a fitting place for devotion and penance;

the

gay and dissipated, bent on scenes of revelry and enjoyment, must have had a sharp contest for the possession.

The calm tranquillity of the country was described in the following advertisement a short time since: "Lord Nelson Tavern, oposite to St. Pancras New Church, Euston Square, New Road. Travellers by the North Western Railway will find at this establishment an excellent coffee-room, wines and spirits of the first quality, well-aired beds, with all the quietude of the country. Omnibuses pass to and from the stations every three minutes."

The threatening style appears in a variety of forms-the most imposing, perhaps, is that in which a fearful responsibility is held in terrorem. In the following we see how the advertiser at once frees himself from his own accountability. He tells us in the Daily Express, April 7, 1854, that he "is an actor," and "middle aged;" he earnestly implores some benevolent Clergyman of the Established Church to rescue him from the vice and degradation of the stage, by appointing him his parish-clerk and schoolmaster. He is most anxious to abandon this sinful profession; but to do so, under present circumstances, would be to court starvation. His great desire is to labour honestly and usefully for himself and family. Besides the ordinary branches of an English education, he would undertake to impart instruction in the Latin and French languages; he has, also, a good knowledge of Church psalmody, and his wife can act as schoolmistress, organist, &c. Any clergyman wishing to learn further particulars is respectfully invited to communicate to G. M. P. W., Teacher, Express Newspaper Office." If this consciencious man continues longer in his sinful course, who then are to blame but those on whom he has called to come to the rescue? He is most anxious to abandon his wicked profession; but between that and the calling of a parish-clerk he sees no intermediate state. His great desire is "to labour honestly and usefully for himself and family"if none will assist him to do so in the way he points out, he is evidently resolved to labour sinfully for himself and family. We should think that the fewer enquiries into particulars of one who by his own admission is engaged in a sinful profession, the better; so that perhaps it would be more advisable not to take advantage of his permission.

The advertisements of, and for servants, have fallen off very much from the elaborate style which we can well remember. "Sinless monsters that the world ne'er saw," offered themselves for every variety of service, and ladies hoped to secure all the cardinal virtues for a few pounds a year. "Brevity," we are told by Hamlet, "is the soul of wit," and it has superseded the elaborate style, owing, we confess, to its being less costly. Ladies must now run all chances for a paragon of perfection; the age and height are all that men-servants now deem it necessary to state, with the addition, perhaps, of "a character" varying from "11 months" to

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2 years," but whether good or bad is not divulged. Some of the advertisements in the column of Wants, were sufficiently unreasonable. This is a specimen which we copied a few years since from a newspaper:'Wanted, for a family who have bad health, a sober, steady person, in the capacity of Doctor, Surgeon, Apothecary, and Man-midwife; he must occasionally act as butler, and dress hair and wigs. He will be required sometimes to read prayers, and preach a sermon every Sun day." A few years since these advertisements were made the vehicle for sectarian professions. We have frequently seen a coachman's boast in these words, "He can drive four-in-hand, and is of the Established Church;" and a lady required her laundress to "do up fine things in the neatest manner, and to be of the Established Church." We once saw this advertisement from a printing office-" Wanted, a Devil-he must be of Evangelical principles.

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"Youth wanted by a middle-aged gentleman" appeared not long since.

Among all the wants made known through the public papers, that for "Partners for life" appears the most extraordinary. Very recently, we read, in the Morning Post, that a lady, who will have more than £20,000 in a few years, would like the addition of Rank (what lady would not?) and wishing to marry a poor, but well-principled nobleman, or the eldest son of one (still harping on the title) If leading an immoral life, need not apply.-CELIA." There is a "Matrimonial Alliance Bureau, Great College-street, Westminster, London, legally established in 1847, for introducing ladies and gentlemen, at present unknown to each other, who are desirous of entering into matrimony. Many thousands, comprising all classes of society, have been married and made happy through Mr. Carson's assistance during the last five years, and such unparalleled success is the best guarantee that all can be suitably married, irrespective of age, appearance, or position. Ladies and gentlemen who are anxious to marry, but who cannot find suitable partners among their own circle of acquaintance, should apply immediately, and not wait, in the too often fallacious hope of being more successful next year, &c., &c."

Mr. Watson's advertisement, which appeared in the Times, is still more alluring: it runs thus:

Matrimony made easy, or how to win a lover. Mr. Watson continues to send free, to any address, plain directions to enable ladies or gentlemen to win the devoted affections of as many of the opposite sex as their hearts may desire. The process is so simple, captivating, and enthralling, that all may be married, irrespective of age, appearance, or position; while the most fickle or cold-hearted must bow to its attractions; young and old peer and peeress as well as the peasant, are alike subject to its influence and last, it can be arranged with such care and delicacy, that disclosure is impossible. Address Mr. Watson, Robert-street, Strand, enclosing twelve stamps."

What a bargain! As many hearts as can be desired, for the value of twelve stamps, at the cost of 1d. each. Who so penurious as to hesitate about the expenditure of a shilling for such a purpose?

But of all offers to supply wants, surely none can be so welcome as that which engages to "revive and corroborate all the faculties of the soul." It was thus advertised a few weeks since:-"Loss of memory, or forgetfulness, cured by a grateful electuary peculiarly adapted for that end. It strikes at the primary source which few apprehend of forgetfulness, makes the head clear and easy, the spirits free, active, and undisturbed, corroborates and revives all the noble faculties of the soul, such as thought, judgment, apprehension, reason, and memory,

which last in particular it so strengthens as to render that faculty exceeding quick and good beyond imagination, thereby enabling those whose memory was before almost totally lost, to remember the minutest circumstance."

It is plain that, if this electuary grew into general use, it would set the world right. A small portion, properly administered, would regulate public and private affairs as they were never regulated before. Pledges and promises would not, as heretofore, escape the memory; benefits and kindnesses would be spared from oblivion; and many who feel themselves forgotten and neglected, would find a place in the memory of those by whom they should be remembered.

About ten years ago, I visited a small, quiet watering-place in the South of England, where, to my great pleasure, I met with my old friend Camelford, and his wife. They regretted that their departure was to take place in a few days, and told me that they would immediately introduce me to three sisters of their acquaintance, who would probably remain till the end of the autumn in the pretty marine cottage which they had recently engaged. Had I been a young man, I should certainly have made some inquiry respecting the fortunes of the ladies; but being on the shady side of sixty, I merely asked whether they were young and handsome?

"They are all young," replied Mrs. Camelford; "indeed there is little difference in their ages, the eldest is four-and-twenty, and the youngest only two years her junior; they are not beauties, but yet have more than the average portion of good looks; they rejoice in the euphonious name of Willoughby. I am, bythe-bye, using an inappropriate word when I say that they rejoice in anything, for they are all suffering from confirmed low spirits."

Like a true Englishman, I exclaimed, "Poor things, I suppose they have met with a reverse in their circumstances."

I guess the secret," I exclaimed; "these fair damsels are not

'Blest with Temper, whose unclouded sway

Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day ;' they do not love a sister's charms,' but look with a jealous eye on each other's attractions, and covet each other's lovers."

"That is the worst conjecture of all," said Mrs. Camelford; "they are most affectionate and devoted sisters, and have never been exposed to the trial of wishing to gain the same lover, yet have they known heavy trials." "Which has known the heaviest ?" I inquired.

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Now," said Mrs. Camelford, " you have fixed on the only point of difference between the sisters; they are constantly disputing, although in an amicable way, as to their respective allotment of grief, each resolutely thinking herself the most pitiable of woman-kind.”

"And which do you think the most pitiable?" I asked.

"Nay," said Mrs. Camelford, "I have told cient clue whereby to solve the enigma which is you quite enough; you will soon have a suffibefore you, and I will not deprive you of the satisfaction of so doing."

That day I met the Misses Willoughby at dinner at the Camelfords; they were amiable, intelligent, and lady-like, but had nothing of the elasticity and light-heartedness which we expect to meet with in the young. "I have a silent sorrow here," seemed to be the motto of each of them. Alicia, the eldest, had melancholy blue eyes, and picturesque long ringlets; she sighed repeatedly, quoted poetry about the world being 66 a fleeting show," and a dreary

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pleasure of hearing his story, he might in his turn be permitted to listen to theirs, I pressed my fair friends to let me hear the principal trials of each of their lives.

"Mine," said Alicia, "would be painful to myself to narrate, and to you to hear; mine has been an unequalled trial.”

Not unequalled, dear Alicia," said Geraldine; "consider what I have suffered, and still suffer, and do not imagine that your trial can compete with my own."

"Ours is a melancholy competition," said Maud; "but although I sincerely sympathise with my sisters, I consider that, from the peculiar circumstances of my own trial, I may be pronounced to be a deeper sufferer than either of them."

"It is natural," I replied, "that each should consider her own trial the heaviest, and only an unprejudiced person can decide between you, Favour me by your confidence, and I will promise you in return my candid and unbiassed opinion on your stories."

Alicia, as the eldest, now began in the following words :

My early years were very happy; my sisters and myself were deprived of our parents in childhool, but our dear uncle and aunt completely supplied their place. My uucle disliked the idea of a governess in the house, therefore we were placed at a school a few miles from London, where we met with every kindness and attention. There was, however, a bad custom prevalent in this school, of secret novel-reading; and as the housemaid, who was our confidante and agent, had a sister who kept a circulating library of a very humble description, our studies were mostly of old novels, which were not like many old things, valuable for their antiquity, but were full of improbable, exaggerated descriptions of beautiful heroines, enamoured heroes, love, rivalry, and disappointment. All these stories advocated the omnipotence of a first love, and set forth the impossibility of a pure and refined nature ever forming a second attachment. I declared to my young companions that I would never marry any but a first love. 'Then,' said Emma Tracey, one of the most romantic of them, 'you will never marry at all; no woman ever marries her first love." These words seemed to sound like a knell in my ears, and I often recurred to them afterwards. At eighteen years of age, I returned to a happy home; my uncle had lately received an accession of fortune, and he decided on leaving London, and purchasing an estate in his native county, Suffolk; he renewed many of his old acquaintance, and we had a very pleasant and desirable visiting circle. Having every advantage of introduction, and also being in possession of an independent fortune, it is not surprising that a tolerable appearance and manners, united to these recommendations, procured me many admirers, and a few serious wooers. But not withstanding all my novel reading, I was by no means of a susceptible disposition, and did not feel inclined to give my heart to any one of my

lovers. Above five years passed away, and my uncle and aunt proposed to indulge my sisters and myself with a winter at Leamington, where several families were staying with whom we were on friendly terms. We found that the matchmaking mammas and manoeuvring young ladies of the place were all engaged in the interesting and exciting pursuit of hunting an heir' who had lately arrived at Leamington. His name was Walgrave, and he had recently succeeded to the estates of a near relation. I had always felt so great a horror of the feminine jargon about eligible matches,' and desirable connexions,' that I quite disliked the idea of meeting Walgrave, lest I might be supposed to be one of the competitors for his notice. I had likewise a very interesting subject for contemplation. An intimate friend of ours, Lady Elvington, resided a few miles from Leamington; she was a widow, with an only son, fifteen years of age, who was educated at home, under the care of a private tutor. A new tutor had just succeeded to the last, and report spoke loudly of the superior mental attainments of this young man, one of my informants on the subject declaring that it was an absolute mystery to him how one like Holcombe could condescend to the task of directing the feeble mind of a spoiled, silly lordling. Lady Elvington, who was more intimate with me than with my sisters, had invited me to pass a few days with her, and I had accepted the invitation. I had a strange fancy to be introduced to this very clever tutor. I was a warm admirer of talent, and thought nothing at all about carriages and settlements. I had promised Lady Elvington that I would be with her a little before her dinner-hour; but I found that it would be more convenient to my aunt to send the carriage with me at an earlier hour, and I arrived just after the party staying in the house had left it for their usual rides and drives in the neighbourhood-no one was at home. I proceeded to the apartment prepared for me, and in about half-an-hour descended to the library, meaning to employ my time in reading till Lady Elvington's return. I found a young man sitting at the table, engaged in making extracts from an enormous folio; he was remarkably handsome, his eyes were large and dark, and had a mingled expression of thought and sweetness; the countenance was of that description which once seen could not be forgotten-it spoke of intellect and goodness. He looked at me with some surprise when I entered; it was evident that the tutor was rather astonished that his peculiar domain should be invaded by a strange lady, but he did not seem disposed to say like St. Senanus

"I have sworn this sacred sod

Shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod !' On the contrary, he closed the folio, and entered into conversation with me; his voice was lowtoned, and expressive. I made known to him my name, and the reason of my entering the library; and having selected a book, was on the point of departing, but he begged me