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POETRY. .-

HILLI-ONNEE.

ORIGINAL CIIARADES-

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ORIGINAL CIIARADES- No. XI. All who have throats to swallow—hear! Whate'er the sorrow, pain or ache, Profusely gulp my FIRST—nor fear The surer cure-the more you take." Thus spake a quack—but what his name I still must hide in shadow's dim j For at the very heigh' of fame, J My SECOND was too much for him. This may be called an age of Reverse the words, you have my WHOLE, The end of each profession's skill, And dear to every trader's soul. Solution of last week's Charade—FAN-TOM

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GREAT FIRE IN THE TOWER OF…

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THK MURDISR IN EASTCHEAP.…

ACQUITTAL OF M'LEOD.

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