gunpowder left out, and the rum left in. Imagine
a Vegetarian edition, with the goat's flesh
left out. Imagine a Kentucky edition, to introduce
a flogging of that 'tarnal old nigger
Friday, twice a week. Imagine an Aborigines
Protection Society edition, to deny the
cannibalism and make Robinson embrace
the amiable savages whenever they landed.
Robinson Crusoe would be "edited" out of
his island in a hundred years, and the island
would be swallowed up in the editorial ocean.

Among the other learned professions we
have now the Platform profession, chiefly exercised
by a new and meritorious class of
commercial travellers who go about to take
the sense of meetings on various articles:
some, of a very superior description: some,
not quite so good. Let us write the story of
Cinderella, "edited" by one of these gentlemen,
doing a good stroke of business, and
having a rather extensive mission.

Once upon a time, a rich man and his wife
were the parents of a lovely daughter. She
was a beautiful child, and became, at her own
desire, a member of the Juvenile Bands of
Hope when she was only four years of age.
When this child was only nine years of age
her mother died, and all the Juvenile Bands
of Hope in her district — the Central district,
number five hundred and twenty-seven—
formed in a procession of two and two,
amounting to fifteen hundred, and followed
her to the grave, singing chorus Number
forty-two, "O come," &c. This grave was outside
the town, and under the direction of the
Local Board of Health, which reported at
certain stated intervals to the General Board
of Health, Whitehall.

The motherless little girl was very sorrowful
for the loss of her mother, and so
was her father too, at first; but, after a year
was over, he married again— a very cross
widow lady, with two proud tyrannical
daughters as cross as herself. He was aware
that he could have made his marriage with
this lady a civil process by simply making
a declaration before a Registrar; but he was
averse to this course on religious grounds,
and, being a member of the Montgolfian persuasion,
was married according to the ceremonies
of that respectable church by the
Reverend Jared Jocks, who improved the
occasion.

He did not live long with his disagreeable
wife. Having been shamefully accustomed to
shave with warm water instead of cold, which
he ought to have used (see Medical Appendix
B. and C.), his undermined constitution could
not bear up against her temper, and he soon
died. Then, this orphan was cruelly treated
by her stepmother and the two daughters,
and was forced to do the dirtiest of the
kitchen work; to scour the saucepans, wash
the dishes, and light the fires— which did not
consume their own smoke, but emitted a dark
vapour prejudicial to the bronchial tubes.
The only warm place in the house where she
was free from ill treatment was the kitchen
chimney-corner; and as she used to sit down
there, among the cinders, when her work was
done, the proud fine sisters gave her the name
of Cinderella.

About this time, the King of the land, who
never made war against anybody, and allowed
everybody to make war against him— which
was the reason why his subjects were the
greatest manufacturers on earth, and always
lived in security and peace— gave a great
feast, which was to last two days. This
splendid banquet was to consist entirely of
artichokes and gruel; and from among those
who were invited to it, and to hear the delightful
speeches after dinner, the King's son
was to choose a bride for himself. The proud
fine sisters were invited, but nobody knew
anything about poor Cinderella, and she was
to stay at home.

She was so sweet-tempered, however, that
she assisted the haughty creatures to dress,
and bestowed her admirable taste upon them
as freely as if they had been kind to her.
Neither did she laugh when they broke seventeen
stay-laces in dressing; for, although she
wore no stays herself, being sufficiently acquainted
with the anatomy of the human
figure to be aware of the destructive effects
of tight-lacing, she always reserved her
opinions on that subject for the Regenerative
Record (price three halfpence in a neat
wrapper), which all good people take in, and
to which she was a Contributor.

At length the wished for moment arrived,
and the proud fine sisters swept away to the
feast and speeches, leaving Cinderella in the
chimney-corner. But, she could always occupy
her mind with the general question of the
Ocean Penny Postage, and she had in her
pocket an unread Oration on that subject,
made by the well known Orator, Nehemiah
Nicks. She was lost in the fervid eloquence
of that talented Apostle when she became
aware of the presence of one of those female
relatives which (it may not be generally
known) it is not lawful for a man to marry.
I allude to her grandmother.

"Why so solitary, my child?" said the
old lady to Cinderella.

"Alas, grandmother," returned the poor
girl, "my sisters have gone to the feast and
speeches, and here sit I in the ashes,
Cinderella!"

"Never," cried the old lady with animation,
"shall one of the Band of Hope despair!
Run into the garden, my dear, and fetch me
an American Pumpkin! American, because
in some parts of that independent country,
there are prohibitory laws against the sale of
alcoholic drinks in any form. Also; because
America produced (among many great pumpkins)
the glory of her sex, Mrs. Colonel
Bloomer. None but an American Pumpkin
will do, my child."

Cinderella ran into the garden, and brought