s (political, social, and domestic)--what an
exemplar of vice punished and virtue rewarded--is the "Newgate Calendar!"
and Newgate itself! what tales might it not relate, if its stones could
speak, had its fetters the gift of tongues!

But these need not be so gifted: the proprietor of the Victoria Theatre
supplies the deficiency: the dramatic edition of Old-Bailey experience he
is bringing out on each successive Monday, will soon be complete; and when
it is, juvenile Jack Sheppards and incipient Turpins may complete their
education at the moderate charge of sixpence per week. The
"intellectualization of the people" must not be neglected: the gallery of
the Victoria invites to its instructive benches the young, whose wicked
parents have neglected their education--the ignorant, who know nothing of
the science of highway robbery, or the more delicate operations of picking
pockets. National education is the sole aim of the sole lessee--money is
no object; but errand-boys and apprentices _must_ take their Monday
night's lessons, even if they rob the till. By this means an endless chain
of subjects will be woven, of which the Victoria itself supplies the
links; the "Newgate Calendar" will never be exhausted, and the cause of
morality and melodrama continue to run a triumphant career!

The leaf of the "Newgate Calendar" torn out last Monday for the
delectation and instruction of the Victoria audience, was the "Life and
Death of James Dawson," a gentleman rebel, who was very properly hanged in
1746.

The arrangement of incidents in this piece was evidently an appeal to the
ingenuity of the audience--our own penetration failed, however, in
unravelling the plot. There was a drunken, gaming, dissipated student of
St. John's, Cambridge--a friend in a slouched hat and an immense pair of
jack-boots, and a lady who delicately invites her lover (the hero) "to a
private interview and a cold collation." There is something about a
five-hundred-pound note and a gambling-table--a heavy throw of the dice,
and a heavier speech on the vices of gaming, by a likeness of the portrait
of Dr. Dilworth that adorns the spelling-books. The hero rushes off in a
state of distraction, and is followed by the jack-boots in pursuit; the
enormous strides of which leave the pursued but little chance, though he
has got a good start.

At another time two gentlemen appear in kilts, who pass their time in a
long dialogue, the purport of which we were unable t