tion and appearance, which he had little difficulty in doing; for though beyond the middle age, this charming man retained all the early advantages of a fine face and figure unimpaired; and at the period alluded to, the only falling off that indicated the approach of the sear and yellow leaf," was from the crown of his head, where a smooth round place had gradually but determinately asserted its independence of all natural covering.

On the first discovery of this bald place, Mr. Bannister was much chagrined; less from personal vanity than from professional considerations, which made a fine head of hair of great importance at a time when artistes had not yet acquired the skill to make wigs more natural than nature herself. On this increasing deficiency, as we must call it, the comedian had from time to time confidentially consulted his theatre hairdresser, who at first added a little more powder occasionally to the damned spot between each scene; but at length the blemish getting daily more obtrusive, and Mr. Bannister more and more uneasy, his faithful confidant suggested the expedient of an addition to his employer's otherwise well-thatched head. A small plot of hair might, he averred, be so artfully attached with the aid of some gum to the defective place, that it would not be possible for the most fastidious eye to detect it in public or private, especially as powder and pomatum were lavishly and universally worn. To this proposition-a truly barbarous one-Bannister gave a reluctant consent; though at this period he might have followed the glorious example of Cæsar, and like him have boasted that he had acquired laurels sufficient to cover his baldness without less honourable aid. Nevertheless, ere long, a kindly patch of hair was skilfully applied to the deserted spot, and thenceforward constantly worn by "Young Bannister," whose secret was necessarily confided to Mrs. Bannister, with a solemn injunction not to admit even their children into her confidence.

As age increased, so did this baldness, which gradually reached his forehead, making together a fine expanse of polished meaning for the contemplation of a phrenologist, infinitely benevolent and intellectual; but no one

guessed the fact, for his toupée was as gradually enlarged as the natural covering became less, and no change in the head was to be detected except by the initiated.

After a very laborious period at the Haymarket Theatre, Mr. Bannister quitted town with his family one season on a visit to Brighton for a few weeks. His medical man having recommended sea-bathing to him to renovate his slightly impaired health. The comedian, on the day after his arrival, finding the weather bright and sunny, hastened to the sea-side in order to take his first dip; when having plunged himself, and remained in the water longer than the prudent period, the bather returned to the machine wherein he had left his clothes; and having dressed himself, he proceeded to arrange his head, which he had dried; and looking round for his toupée, to his great consternation it was nowhere visible, and the fatal truth at once flashed horribly athwart his mind. Bannister was, as the preceding account has described him, a very absent man; and in his eagerness to jump into the sea, he had omitted to take off his demi - wig, which naturally forsook his head as soon as it was thoroughly saturated without his being aware of its ungenerous secession. Bannister now recollected having seen something float near him, which he took to be a small knot of sea-weed; and he now rushed from the machine upon the sands, looking disconsolately about, and upon the "ocean vast," where wave rolled upon wave, as if in unfeeling mockery of his hope, and the missing scalp was no more seen: his "wrinkled front was in the deep bosom of the ocean buried !"

What a cruel blow was this to "Young Bannister!" Repining was useless as puerile; he had pledged himself to return home to an early dinner with his children, and feeling that he was wasting time in a vain pursuit, he at length in utter despair placed his now much too large hat over his eyes, and getting into a

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fly," winged his way to the High Street, wherein he remembered to have seen a wig-maker's shop; and where, taking the master of it confidentially into his back-parlour and closing the door, with great caution and

delicacy unfolded his embarrassment, asking anxiously whether his loss could not be immediately supplied. At this the man shook his head despondingly, and then gave Mr. Bannister the sad intelligence that nothing like "the article" alluded to was to be found ready-made in the town of Brighton; adding, that it would take at least two days to make; in short, that he could not undertake to have one ready before the following night. Poor Mr. Bannister, completely chapfallen at this intelligence, suffered his head to be measured; and, maugre his reluctance to confess to his wife his carelessness and consequent privation, at length presented himself shorn of his beams at his house, where he found Mrs. Bannister and the children anxiously expecting his return, the hour fixed for dinner having some time elapsed. Unluckily a chance visitor was present, a friend whom Mrs. Bannister had pressed to stay and dine with them, and the discomfited and dilapidated comedian was altogether dispirited and out of sorts. His wife looked anxiously in his face, and "hoped he was not ill." “No, not ill, but he had somehow caught cold, and begged on that account to be permitted to sit down to dinner," just then announced, "with his hat on;" apologising for so unceremonious an act to his visitor, who, with Mrs. Bannister, unconsciously harassed him by various suggestions for a substitute more comfortable to himself, to keep his head warm, while the children once or twice attempted to remove the hat in order to place a more seemly and agreeable covering upon his head; and poor Bannister sat in the midst of his family like a "fretful porcupine," with quills upreared, armed at all points to resist the threatened invasions of torturing, though wellmeant kindness.

When the children had retired and the visitor departed, Bannister laid bare his distress to his wife, who, as it has been explained, was the only person of his family cognisant of the artifice he had so long practised; and exposing his bald head, pathetically appealed to her candour to pronounce whether it did not make him look at least ten years older? Mrs. Bannister could not deny the fact. The next question was, what he could do until

the lost toupée was replaced by the one making? What was to become of him till re-covered from his distressing accident?

"It was so very awkward," he said, "to confess to the children that he had practised such a deceit; they would naturally laugh, too, at his present distress, and his altered looks would seem so ridiculous to young people. In short, he had not nerve to encounter the remarks of his children; and if the fact could be kept from their knowledge but one day longer, all would be well;" under these feelings, it was eventually agreed between him and his wife, that he should be confined to his room the whole of the following day by a severe cold in his head. Accordingly he appeared the next morning in his dressing-gown and slippers, and his pericranium enveloped in one of Mrs. Bannister's shawls; in which he might have been supposed to be dressed for some Eastern monarch, feeling very much himself like Mahomet the Impostor. Thus he sat, to the infinite amusement of one or two of his younger children, who made several sportive snatches at his turban, which, they said, "made papa look so funny," and which playfulness it required all the sufferer's dexterity to evade.

Thus circumstanced, it proved a balmy moment when the servant announced that "The hair-dresser had come to dress master's hair."

The children were now taken out of the room, and the artiste admitted with the expected toupée, which was presented in due form; but, oh! who shall describe this second shock, at finding that it not only did not fit, but that it was so ill-contrived and so little conducive to Bannister's usual effect of head, as to be simultaneously pronounced by Mr. and Mrs. Bannister unwearable! This was "the most unkindest cut of all!" Poor Bannister was completely upset; but at length Mrs. Bannister reasoned with him upon the inevitable necessity of the case-no virtue like necessity, --and strenuously recommended him to make up his mind at once to a disclosure of his past assumption; at the same time assuring him that his present situation was no otherwise disadvantageous to his appearance than by rendering him a little older; in short, her sensible arguments

finally prevailed over her husband's shyness; she kindly undertook to break the delicate affair to their children and friends; and by explaining his previous deception, prepare them for his present change. How he became ultimately reconciled to his privation, was never ascertained; and the only remarkable public result was to be perceived in the Drury Lane play-bills the following season,

wherein he was for the first time announced as "Mr. Bannister!" who duly received the congratulations of his theatrical brethren, as well as of his private friends, upon the lucky accident which had revealed one of the most intelligent and benevolent heads ever seen, without lessening the manly beauty of the honestest face in the world.

It too often happens that, in the midst of the most heart-touching ceremonies, when individual feeling is deep and serious, something of the ludicrous will force its way through the general propriety of the scene, to the perception of some person more open to such impressions than others, for which reason it is hazardous to enlist accessories to any solemnity who cannot be supposed to have at heart the absorbing interest which belongs naturally to the principals : thus funerals, when many are present, are not always attended with that unbroken propriety which the occasion demands, and the feelings of the bereft require.

In the July of 1805, Mr. Suett died. He was a person, when living, much liked by his theatrical brethren, who felt, perhaps, that they could have better spared a better man. By this, it must not be inferred that Mr. Suett was a bad man; but it would be affectation to suppose that any one who ever heard of that delightful droll can be ignorant that he possessed one failing-such a one as robs worth of much grace in the eyes of the temperate.

It being arranged by some of the principal performers of Drury Lane Theatre to pay the departed comedian that tribute of respect which, alas! but gratifies the survivors, it happened that one of the mourningcoaches provided on the sad occasion was occupied by Messrs. Mathews and Caulfield, Suett's doubles, to which of whose imitations of the deceased it would have been difficult to give a preference, so perfect were both. This pair of mocking-birds were perched on opposite seats; they had been, during Mr. Suett's life, in the habit of talking to each other invariably in his tones and manner,—

using his peculiar phrases, and even looking like him. Whenever these "twin Dickies," as they were called when together, met in presence of the great original, there were three Suetts in the field.

Such association naturally arising in a party not affected by the occasion beyond a common regret, might be expected to furnish matter deep and dangerous to general gravity; but, as it proved, the past held no power over the present. Mr.Wroughton, it is true, looked severely serious occasionally at Mathews, and Robert Palmer scowled at Caulfield. Whether these checks from the members of the old school had any weight that kept down the buoyancy of their younger brethren may not be affirmed; suffice it, that neither word nor look for one moment disturbed the seriousness all exhibited during the melancholy drive.

Suett had been a St. Paul's boy; and it had therefore been arranged that his mortal remains should be deposited in the churchyard of the cathedral, to which now the hearse was followed by his brother actors. All had proceeded with the strictest decorum and attention to the last solemn, heart-chilling ceremony, and the mourners were turning away from the spot where "dust to dust" had been consigned; but as they did so, all were startled by sounds " unmusical to Volscian ears, and doubly harsh" to the delicate and susceptible organs of performers, and which at once broke up the awful stillness of the scene. The noise was as of serpents, accompanied by a simultaneous clap ping of hands; both sounds were peculiarly calculated to strike the sensitive tympanums of actors, and all stood confounded; the clergyman turned round with a severe look, as

if to reprove the rude perpetrator of such an outrage; and the performers eagerly looked for the source of this (as it seemed) mixed professional notice of poor Suett's final exit from the stage of life. The cause of this curious effect was at once apparent. On an adjacent tomb, a boy, who had probably placed himself on that elevation for the more conveniently witnessing the ceremony just concluded was perceived, still clapping and hissing vehemently, as it was afterwards found, with the view of instigating two dogs to fight, that it was evident were more than half disposed to gratify him by taking the hint.

The unconscious culprit stood confest; and, the matter thus accounted for, the clergyman resumed his composure, and with eyes cast down moved away; while the actors, glancing furtively from one to another

with an incipient smile quivering on their lips, immediately raised their white handkerchiefs to their faces, and in "decent sorrow" re-entered their coaches, where they continued profoundly silent till they once more alighted; when something that might have been mistaken for the voice of the departed, was heard in dialogue, and the ghost of buried Denmark finally exclaimed, "Oh la! oh dear! Ho-ho! Ha-ha! Why, my dragons! that boy was a genuine piece of Goods! what I call a real Circumstance! Oh dear! oh la! Robert Palmer took a larger pinch of snuff than usual, and walked away. Mr. Wroughton faintly smiled, and holding a finger up with an expressive meaning to the twain Dickies, cast his eyes upon the ground, and gravely muttered, as he took his leave,

'Rest, rest, perturbed spirit !”

"Oh Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure had'st thou !"

Mr. Quick ("Little Quick") had also 66

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a treasure," namely, one fair daughter, the which he loved passing well," too well! It followed, then, that she was in infancy so humoured, petted, and "spoiled," that in comparison with her wild and whimsical desires the famed requisition of the "top tile off the chimney" was a moderate and justifiable demand.

One day, a friend "dropping in" upon Mr. and Mrs. Quick at their dinner-hour, found these fond parents and their "treasure" already seated at table, although the dishes were yet covered. The hospitable couple insisted on their friend's participation of their homely meal; and he, in compliance with their wish, took the fourth side of the board, immediately opposite to the young mistress of the house (then about six years of age), who, by right of custom and her own sovereign will, chose, day by day, whatever position caprice or local speculations, connected with certain edibles, pointed out to be most desirable; and there the high chair of the little despot was ordered to be placed. On the present occasion, having forestalled her dinner by eating a lump of cake, which had palled her appetite, and rendered the present meal an

unwelcome superfluity, the little dear was seated next to her doting father, as a mere looker on.

The main dish upon table, when uncovered, excited the curiosity of Miss Quick, who either had not seen the joint before, or had forgotten the name of it, which she now eagerly demanded; and upon being told that it was a saddle of mutton, she stood up, and promptly announced her intention to ride upon it forthwith. To this preposterous recreation the parents were fain to entreat the little imp's forbearance. In vain; for she declared saddles were made to ride upon, and to ride she was resolved. After much ado, her patient father and mother luckily suggested that the obvious heat of the seat she aspired to, and the inconvenience likely to arise from such exercise, would distress her, and spoil her new frock, the difficulty seemed surmounted, and the child desisted from further importunity; but immediately after, perceiving the dish almost overflowing with the juice of the mutton, she cried out, "Oh, let me put my foot in the gravy! I will put my feet in the gravy! The father, albeit not unused to such eccentric fancies, was a little startled at his sweet pet's novel desire, and exclaimed in a tone of assumed wonder and of depreca

tion, "My precious love! what a preposterous thing you propose! it's quite out of the question. Now be à dear, good child, and let me help Mr. to some mutton." "Oh!" reiterated the little treasure, "I will put my feet in the gravy first!" In vain the devoted parents argued, threatened, and coaxed; in vain promised that the next day, when they were without a visitor, she should do whatever she pleased; all, all in vain! for upon a more determined opposition, the sweet little angel yelled out her wishes in such a piercing key, that her mother, a very mild-mannered person, addressed her husband, "My dear Mr. Quick, I'm afraid we shall have no peace until we allow the dear child to do as she likes." “Well, but my love," urged Mr. Quick, in reply, a little ashamed of their mutual weakness before their guest," what will Mr. say to such a proceeding? It is really so improper." Mr. willing to see to what extreme parental folly could go, withheld both his opinion and permission, preferring a state of neutrality; and Mr. Quick, finding the little tyrant's determination warmer every minute, and the mutton cooler, proposed a compromise, namely, that the little darling should have another dish brought in, and placed in a corner of the room with some of the gravy in it, and then paddle about whilst themselves and friend were at dinner, and return to table when the fruit came in. No; the "treasure," at the very top of her voice, once more declared that she would have the dish, and nothing but the dish, before her; and, further, that she would not abate one drop of the gravy. At this perplexing juncture, Quick turned towards his

friend, in apology for the scene before him, assuring him at the same time, that "it was of no use to thwart the dear child, who would have her way." Then calling for another dish, the poor father placed the shivering saddle upon it, and lifting that from the table containing the gravy, carried it to a remote corner of the room, where he was followed by the "little duck;" who, after a persuading kiss from the goose her father, consented to have her shoes removed, and to remain splashing about until the dessert appeared upon table. When the little nuisance graciously allowed her foot-bath to be taken away, she reascended her high chair, and there further shewed how hateful lovely infancy may become from improper indulgence, by pushing about and knocking down whatever was offered that she did not approve. Screaming forth her preference, she at length declared in favour of a large pear, the largest in the dish, upon which she had placed her affections. Mrs. Quick, unwilling to incur by fresh denial another contest with her powerful superior, with prompt kindness smilingly placed the coveted pear upon her daughter's plate; when, to the alarm of the beholders, the little fury threw it back upon her mother with all the ferocity of a full-grown termagant, exclaiming, as she did so," Why did you give it to me? I wanted to snatch it!"

Mr. Quick himself related this story to the person now telling it, at the same time congratulating himself that his child had grown into a sensible, rational woman, notwithstanding her parents' early endeavours to make her a fool.