R. TURPIN’S Warranted Razors, from 2s. to 10s. per pair, with morocco case complete, and exchanged if not found good. Cutlery Ground and Re-polished as New, Daily, on the Premises. N.B. KNIVES AND FORKS LENT ON HIRE. Water-proof Clothing. For prompt Sale, the remaining portion of a Stock of the above to be disposed of at a great reduction, in order to effect a speedy clearance.—Prices from 16s. 6d. upwards. Address, J. ALLEN, Tailor, Hosier, Shirt-maker, & general Out-fitter, 44, High street, Kensington. A Stove Brilliantly Polished In two minutes, for less than One Farthing! W. G. NIXEY’S celebrated Registered BLACK LEAD, a new domestic discovery, cannot be wasted, and is a preservative of Furniture from the injurious effects of the common article now in use, it creates no dust, & requires comparatively no labour. Sold throughout the United Kingdom, in solid blocks, at 1d., 2d., and 4d.; also, in boxes at 1s.—Manufactory, 22, Moor-street, Soho-square. Dissolving Views, &c. J. ORCHARD, Optician, &c., 28, Hornton-street, Kensington, informs the public that having a large assortment of Magic Lanterns, Dissolving Views, &c., &c., he Attends Schools and Evening Parties with the same.—Spectacles, and every description of optical instruments made & repaired. Lines. Before the sea a diver stood, Prepared to spring into its flood; But soon returning to the shore, Within his hand a pearl he bore. With pleasure beamed his sparkling eyes, To learn the value of his prize; “Yet! yet!” he cried, “’neath yon deep main, Lies treasure still,—I dive again.” Then, leaping with superior force, He fearless flew his venturous course, To search once more the ocean’s bed, While billows rolled above his head. Not unrewarded was his toil,— Uprising with a richer spoil, He found the land, yet, fainting, sighed More distant waters to divide. “How mean this wealth my hands have gain’d To the vast hoards that lie contained, ’Neath deeps my daring cannot reach,” Murmured his discontented speech. “Were this frame gifted with the power, To gather gems through every hour, Too short a thousand years would be, To scour the margin of that sea.” But there’s an ocean more sublime, Washing the tiny isle of Time,— How far across, no sage can say, Nor guess how low its bottom lay. ’Tis Truth’s deep sea, of bounds unknown, Where gifted spirits long have thrown Their mighty vision, till their eyes Nigh wearied with its mysteries. _Kensington_. C.B.S.