Pictures and all sorts of clever things will be introduced when the capital is subscribed, but it’s no use making promises until the bankers have got the money.

If there is a rush for shares (as anticipated), those who come first will have the preference.

It may be stated that lots of people have promised to become shareholders which is satisfactory.  But it is necessary to add that no one will be permitted to become a contributor to the paper even of the most interesting nature (i.e., Press notices, &c.), until he has contributed to its capital.

It is the intention of the Promoters that the majority of the shares that be allotted to persons in or connected with the profession, so that there shall be no nonsense from outsiders.

No promotion money will be paid to anyone.  The only preliminary expenses will be those connected with law and stationery.

It is proposed to start the Journal at once, per contract.  The Promoters are in communication with a gentleman who will make a first-rate Editor, and who will (they believe) be delighted to accept such an appointment if offered to him.  Special arrangements will be made for the insertion of such advertisements as “Wigs on the Green” and “Curtain Razors.”

As the paper will be sent about largely, it should have a good circulation, and the Promoters give as a standing toast, “Success to the Advertisement Department!”

Under such brilliant auspices, both the Company and the paper (as the legal advisers, Messrs. BOX & COX would say) “should be satisfied.”

In the event of no money being received, the amount will be returned without deductions.

* * * * *

CRIES WITHOUT WOOL.

NO. 1.—­“HALL THE WINNERS!”

[Illustration]

  Of all the cries this world can boast—­
  A loud, unconscionable host—­
  There’s one that I detest the most—­
  It haunts me o’er my morning toast,
    It scares my luncheon’s calm and dinner’s. 
  It dogs my steps throughout the week,
  That cursed crescendo of a shriek;
  I cannot read, or write, or speak,
  Undeafened by its howl unique,
    That demon-yell of “Hall the Winners!”

  I’m not, I own, a racing man;
  I never loved a horse that ran,
  And betting is a vice I ban;
  Still, to the sporting caravan—­
    Or good, or bad, or saints, or sinners—­
  I bear no malice; nor would take
  A leaf from any books they make;
  Why then, should they, for mercy’s sake,
  Pursue me till my senses ache
    With that relentless “Hall the Winners?”

  If it were only but a few,
  But “Hall the Winners!”—­why, the crew
  Must winning be the whole year through! 
  Why can’t a veteran or two
    Retire in favour of beginners? 
  I’d rather welcome e’en the strain
  Of “Hall the Losers!” than remain
  A martyr frenzied and profane
  To that importunate refrain
  Of (There! they’re at it!!) “Hall the Winners!”