stands an old fogy of the Regency.
Of what hideous debauch can he tell; and here stuffed, and painted, and
bewigged, made up from top to toe, he has come to mourn, not to moralise,
over the past. A sad sight is he; but sadder still are those pale-faced
ones, of elaborate hair, and exquisitely fitting costumes and bewitching
Balmorals, now dancing, now chaffing, now drinking, now uproariously
merry, but all the time with wanton wiles seeking their human prey in the
excitement of music, and laughter, and wine.

THE PENNY GAFF.

Do my readers know Shoreditch? I do not mean the Eastern Counties
Railway Station, but the regions dark and dolorous lying beyond. In an
old map of London, by my side, dated 1560, I see it marked as a street
with but one row of houses on each side, and the five windmills in
Finsbury Fields not far off. Here stood the Curtain Theatre. In Stowe's
time there were in Shoreditch "two publique houses for the acting and
shewe of comedies, tragedies, and histories for recreation." Here,
according to the learned and indefatigable Mr. Timbs, "at the Blue Last
public-house, porter was first sold, about 1730." And here still, if I
may judge from the immense number of public-houses all round, the
consumption of porter and other intoxicating liquors is still carried on
on a somewhat extensive scale. Hard working and businesslike as
Shoreditch is by day, with its clothes marts and extensive shoe depots,
by night it is a great place for amusement. Here are theatres where
melodrama reigns supreme. Close by is the renowned Britannia Saloon.
And here concerts exist where, over their beer, the listeners are regaled
with the sentimental and comic songs of a generation long gathered to its
fathers. To me I confess there is somewhat of pathos in these places.
What tales cannot that ancient landlord tell! The young, the beautiful,
the brave he has outlived, where are they?

But let us pass on to the penny theatre, a place not hard to find in this
region of shell-fish and fruit-pie shops, those sure indications of a
neighbourhood rather poor and very wild. We pay our money at the door,
and then follow the direction given us by the businesslike young woman
who takes the fee, "First turn to the left, and then to the right." But
instead of being allowed to enter at once, we have to wait with several
others, chiefly boys, very dirty, who regard us apparently with no very
favourable eye, till a fresh ho