OR

MRS. WOULD-BE’S ADVICE TO HER DAUGHTER.

  Now, Charlotte, dear, attend to me,
    You know you’re coming out,
  And in the best society
    Will shine, beyond a doubt. 
  Things were not always so with us,—­
    But let oblivion’s seal
  For ever shut out former days—­
    They were so ungenteel.

  And as for country neighbours, child,
    You must forget them all;
  And never visit any place
    That is not Park or Hall. 
  But if you know a titled name,
    That knowledge ne’er conceal;
  And mention nothing in the world,
    Except it be genteel.

  But think no more of Henry, child;
    His love is pure, I know;
  He writes delightful verses too;
    But cannot be your beau. 
  He never as at Almack’s, sure,—­
    From that there’s no appeal;
  For neither gifts nor graces now
    Can make a man genteel.

  You know Lord Worthless,—­Charlotte, would
    Not that be quite a match,
  If not so very often in
    The keeping of the watch? 
  He paid some damages last year,
    Though slippery as an eel;
  But then such vices in a peer
    Are perfectly genteel.

  And you must cut the Worthies—­they’re
    No company for you;
  Though all of them are lovely girls,
    And very clever too. 
  ’Tis true, we found them kind, when all
    The world were cold as steel;
  ’Tis true, they were your early friends;
    But, then, they’re not genteel.

  There’s Lady Waxwork, who, when dressed,
    Has nothing she can say;
  Miss Triffle of her lap-dog’s tail
    Will chatter half the day. 
  The Honourable Mr. Trick
    At cards can cheat or steal:—­
  These are the friends that suit us now,
    For oh! they’re so genteel!

  But, Charlotte, dear, avoid the Blues,
    No matter when, or how;
  For literature is quite beneath
    The higher classes now. 
  Though Raphael paint, or Homer sing,
    Oh! never seem to feel;
  Young ladies should not have a soul,—­
    It’s really ungenteel.

* * * * *

A NEW WINE.

SIR PETER LAURIE sent an order to a wine-merchant at the West End on Tuesday last for “six dozen of the best Ottoman Porte.”

* * * * *

LOYALTY AND INSANITY.

“Half the day at least”—­says the editor of the Athenaeum—­“we are in fancy at the Palace, taking our turn of loyal watch by the cradle of the heir-apparent; the rest at our own firesides, in that mood of cheerful thankfulness which makes fun and frolic welcome!” Half the day, at least!