operas. You observe the lady, though no longer in her première jeunesse, is still exceedingly handsome, while the good nature of her disposition beams in her eyes, and lights up her counte nance; and from the display of one of the best-formed arms in the theatre, we cannot suppose her entirely insensible to the admiration of the multitude. Inheriting a large fortune, she has been enabled to indulge that passion, or rather mania for music which has been the grand characteristic of her life. This has caused her to be surrounded by a host of foreigners, who enjoy her kindness, fatten on her hospitality, and grow rich by her liberality. You never meet her without half-a-dozen of these foreign artistes in her train. You see one of them now in the back of the box, mustachio'd and imperialed, and gazing upon his patroness and her companion with one of those sneers which display the real sentiment with which many of these foreign artistes regard the English. But where is your glass?"

I immediately pointed the glass in the direction of the box. "What do you discover?"

"In the lady's head," I replied, "I see a strange jumble of crotchets and quavers, mingled with a plentiful profusion of moustachios. The gentleman's head is quite as much stuffed with musical notes; but in his pericranium they seem to organise themselves into operas."

At this moment there was a universal buzz in the house, and I saw every opera-glass pointed in the direction of a large box immediately above the one in which I had been engaged. This box had hitherto been empty, but three or four ladies, and an equal number of gentlemen were now entering it, the whole of whom seemed to pay obeisance to the youngest lady of the party; none of them taking their places till she was seated on the right hand front corner of the box. In an instant the crimson curtain was drawn aside by a diminutive white hand, and displayed a face with an expression of determination, which is seldom the accompaniment of such extreme youth. The lady placed her bouquet on the cushion before her, and immediately began to scrutinize several boxes. Every eye and glass in the house seemed for a few minutes to be directed towards herself; but she bore the public gaze as though she were entitled to it.

I was on the point of lifting my opera-glass in the same direction with the others, when my companion suddenly seized my arm, exclaiming in a hurried voice, "No-no! that is a head you must not look into. The secrets of that head are too important for common scrutiny. We shall return to the opera, but now let us be gone."

In an instant the brilliant scene vanished from my view, and in a few minutes I found myself comfortably seated in a fashionable hotel at the west end of the town. I soon recognised my conductor in the obsequious valet who tendered me my dressing-gown and slippers, and offered me a cup of delicious coffee, with a glass of curaçoa. He afterwards ushered me into a comfortable bedchamber, where he left me to my repose, bidding me good night, observing that he had some business in the other world, but would be back betimes in the morning.

"Don't you think, sir, as we shall have a war with Roosher, sir ?"
"Don't chatter, sir, but dress my hair!"

MR. MACAW.

A SKETCH.

THE barber-the individual who thrust out his pole in all weathers-is now almost extinct.

Modern civilisation has, indeed, so completely transformed the quaint barber-ism of the olden time, that an attempt to discover the pole now-a-days would puzzle even Sir John Ross !

Even those descendants of the great shavers of our forefathers' chins, who enjoy the old established shops as a hair-loom, have uni versally knocked out the dim windows of their predecessors, and now very appropriately show forth in all the glory of a "new front;" while the chips of the old blocks, (who were wont to friz and crop our grandsires, retaining but a small portion of the ancient practice, are reduced to a-little shaving!

The old barber, during the reign of powder-the flour of his days! -was accustomed to puff his customers, while the smart hairdresser of to-day only puffs-himself.

Again-instead of the dirty, snug gossiping-room, whose whitewashed walls were adorned with a jack-towel (pro bono publico), a hand-glass, the play-bills of the day, and broad caricatures, we are now ushered into a "salon," (or, as a slender brother of the white

aproned craft called it in my hearing, a "salong pour la coupe de CHEVAUX !" all red paper, gilding, looking-glass, and gas.

Our head (and the head of this article) requiring a cut, we dropped in at one of the most notorious "Emporiums of Fashion" in this renowned city of Cockaigne, where (see advertisement) there are more bears "slaughtered" monthly than are imported into the "tight little island" in the whole course of a year!

Poor bears! how vividly they call to mind the fate of a great poet -like him they fall martyrs to the love of GREASE!

As we entered the "salon," Mr. Macaw, the proprietor of the splendid establishment, had just received a huge pair of curlingirons from the "paws" of a broad-nosed African, dressed in white trowsers and jacket, and was twirling them dexterously over his thumb, and blowing upon them after the most approved fashion.

He bowed; took my hat, and handing it to the "nigger," informed me that "he should have the honour, &c." in half a moment. He "indicated" a handsome sofa. "Currier-Times-GlobeHerald," continued he, pointing to several papers, "all sorts o' politics-'cording to taste o' customers-fit 'em to a hair.”

There was also a volume of the "Heads of the People" lying on the sofa. I smiled; for, where could they find a more appropriate place than in a hair-dresser's shop?

There were several assistants, or journey-men, at work in the room; but they only whispered in monosyllables: Mr. Macaw-the great Macaw-apparently monopolizing the whole of the talking "aloud" as his particular province.

He undoubtedly possessed one great essential of an orator— confidence! and was, in truth, a strange compound of wit, ignorance and vulgar assurance.

The spark, upon whose cranium he was operating, appeared to enjoy his gabble, and laughed repeatedly, to the imminent danger, as we thought, of a "singe" from the tongs.

"It's precious cold to-day," remarked he.

'Rayther easterly-what I call a cutting hair, sir," replied Macaw.

"Precisely," continued his customer.

"Ralely, sir, (I must say it,) you have been most shamefully cut; who could have had the owdaciousness to operate-to spile, in fact, a gentleman's head in this way?"

"Oh!-a fellow at the West End-"

"Ah! I thought as much. They don't understand it, sir. Cut a hundred to their one in the city; and practice-(a leetle to the left)-practice, sir, is everything."

"Shan't touch me again," said the youth. "I've got somee xperience--"

'A notch, sir, if you will allow the word," said Macaw ; " nothin' more nor less than a 'notch,' 'pon the honour of a professor. They're mere 'prentices in the hart, sir, and fit on'y to clip parish boys. Why, it'll take a month and some pots o'bear's grease to obviate the hinjury."

"And do you really think bears' grease of any use?"

"Of any use!" cried Macaw, with a start. "My dear sir, if your head was as smooth as the palm of my hand, I could assure you

a crop in-in a twinkling! Rub a block-a head, I mean-as polished as a billiard-ball, and you 'ill be surprised-perfectly astounded-yes, sir, the CROWN WILL HAVE A LITTLE HAIR-APPARENT IN NO TIME. We have a harticle, sir, as is bin given a preference for by, I may say, the 'nobs' of the city; and the nobs are, without vanity, the better for it." And here he took breath, and grinned at his own facetiousness. "There, sir, I think, sir, I have done wonders," resumed he, giving the finishing touch to his labours, "that is, considering of the miserrible state to which that WestEnder have reduced you, sir."

While undergoing a brush to take off the superfluous hairs from his coat, the youth turned to a small glass-case containing a tempting display of perfumery, &c.

"Have you any tooth-powder you can recommend?" said he. "Pon my honour, sir, we have nothink but we will recommend ; but here's a thing, sir, as will recommend itself. We sell an immensity of it. Next to a good head of hair, I 'm of opinion, sir, a fine set o' teeth is the ne plus ultra to a gentleman. Some blades, indeed, would have little to boast on, if it was not for good grindHalf-a-crown, if you please, sir-thank you, sir. Good even

ers.

ing." And he bowed him out.

"I say, Macaw, how thick you laid it on," remarked one of the "finished" gentlemen, carefully fixing his hat over his poodled crop. "All in the way of business, as my old governor used to say. 'Mac,' said he,' when you wish to shave a gentleman easy, always soap him well.""

At this moment a dark broad-shouldered man, with black whiskers and eyebrows, and a "frosty pow," as Burns pathetically describes it, entered the "salon," and throwing down his broad brimmed beaver, he seized a paper, and seated himself in the vacant chair.

"How would you like it cut, sir, ?" said Macaw, endeavouring to pass his fingers through the stubble.

"Close," laconically and gruffly growled the gentleman.

"Umph!-short!" said Macaw, and, wielding his scissors, set to work, rather perplexed how to handle his customer. He at last caught his eye directed to an article on the affairs of Russia, and took his "cue" accordingly.

"Roosher, sir," said he, "is grabbing at everythink. Got a large navy; but it's my opinion, as an individual, he 's got too many irons in the fire, and will burn his fingers. Before he lays his paws upon anythink belonging in any way to Old England, he 'd better pause, I think.-Don't you think, sir, as we shall have a war with Roosher, sir?"

"Don't chatter, sir, but dress my hair," said the crabbed old gentleman, in a tone, that seemed to rumble over a bed of pebbles. Macaw was silenced,-the journeymen simultaneously dilated their optics to a perfect stare of wonderment,-while the astonished "friseur" clipped away until he speedily reduced his customer's original bristles to the shortness of a tooth-brush. ALFRED CROWQUILL.

AFTER running to some distance down Seacoal-lane, Jack stopped to give a last look at the vehicle which was bearing away the remains of his beloved and ill-fated mother. It was scarcely out of sight when two persons, whom he instantly recognized as Jonathan and Abraham Mendez, turned the corner of the street, and made it evident from their shouts that they likewise perceived him.

Starting off at a rapid pace, Jack dashed down Turnagain-lane, skirted the eastern bank of Fleet-ditch, crossed Holborn-bridge, and began to ascend the neighbouring hill. By the time he had reached St. Andrew's Church his pursuers had gained the bridge, and the attention of such passengers as crowded the streets was attracted towards him by their vociferations. Amongst others, the watchman whose box was placed against the churchyard wall, near the entrance to Shoe-lane, rushed out and sprung his rattle, which was immediately answered by another rattle from Holborn-bars.

Darting down Field-Lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but, though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. His course had been observed by the watchman, who directed Wild which way to take.

"It is Jack Sheppard, the noted housebreaker!" cried Jonathan, at the top of his sonorous voice. "He has just broken out of Newgate. After him! A hundred pounds to the man who takes him.”

Sheppard's name operated like magic on the crowd. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. People ran out of their shops to join the pursuit ; and, by the time Wild had got into Fieldlane he had a troop of fifty persons at his heels, all eager to assist in the capture.

"Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton-garden. "It is SheppardJack Sheppard-stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of blood-hounds at his heels.

Jack, meanwhile, heard the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane. Here he was hotly pursued. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and encumbered by his fetters, he was by no means-though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot-a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him.

At the corner of Liquorpond-street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Hearing