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Elegant Companion to the Drawing-room Table.

Just published,

In two handsome volumes, with gilt edges,





“ These elegant little volumes, which are got up in a very tasty manner, are well adapted for the drawing-room table, and will be eagerly sought for to beguile a weary hour. Under the title of 'FACETIÆ,' they comprise all the witty sallies and effusions of mirth that have appeared, from

Monsieur Tonson’ to Margate'-a humorous poem, which, though late in the field, is by no means inferior in merit to any of its predecessors. * * * The illustrations alone are worth considerably more than the price charged for the whole work.”—Morning Chronicle.

“The admirers of Mr. Cruikshank's inimitable productions may now enjoy themselves to their heart's content. * * * These miniature volumes comprise the whole of the jeux d'esprit which have lately become so popular, and contain upwards of one hundred and twenty engravings.”Globe,

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Ir will, doubtless, be in the recollection of


of the readers of “ The Gentleman in Black,” that a portion of the work appeared some years ago, in a periodical entitled « THE LITERARY MAGNET."

That publication, however, having long since been discontinued, the greater part of this volume has never yet appeared in print. At the request of the Subscribers, who were anxious that the tale should be completed, it was the author's intention to have had it immediately re-published in an entire form, but on applying for the remainder of the manuscript, he was informed that it was mislaid. He

has, therefore, been under the necessity of entirely re-writing it, and now,--having received his latest corrections—aided by the

powerful talent of Mr. George Cruikshank,it is presented to the public.

Old Bond Street,

Nov. 25, 1830.

The Gentleman in Black.


“ WHAT the devil shall I do?exclaimed Louis Desonges: “not a sous have I in the world besides that solitary five franc piece! and where the next is to come from I cannot divine. What

the devil must I do?

“ Did you call, Monsieur !” asked a gentle voice, which seemed to proceed from the more dusky corner of the apartment, in which Louis was sitting in his old arm-chair, before a wormeaten table covered with books and papers.


“ Who, in the name of fate, are you ?” responded the unhappy youth, looking round in search of the individual from whom the inquiry had proceeded.

Precisely so," replied a stout, short, middleaged gentleman, of a somewhat saturnine complexion, as he advanced from—we can't say exactly where—into the middle of the room. He was clad in black, according to the fashion of the day; had a loose Geneva cloak, as an upper garment, of the same colour; and carried a large bundle of black-edged papers, tied with black tape, under his arm. Without the smallest ceremony, he placed a chair opposite our hero, bowed, seated himself, smiled, laid his papers on the table, rubbed his hands, and appeared altogether prepared for business. Louis felt somewhat embarrassed, but returned the stranger's bow with all due civility; and, after a brief, awkward pause, ventured to inquire the

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