tight as the ancient pantaloons, and cream-coloured kid gloves. Others appear on promenade with coats whose tails descend to their heels, and others again in all the brilliancy of the latest Paris fashions. The contrast and _mélange_ are curious and infinitely amusing, and the display of jewellery is immense. In short, in London I would take the proudest man in the place for a linendraper’s shopman in his Sunday clothes. It is in the article of gloves however that most extravagance is displayed. White or cream-coloured is the colour _de rigueur_. Present yourself to a Wallachian lady to pay a visit, with your hands cased in anything more durable, and you excite as great a sensation as if you walked into a London drawing-room in top-boots. Nor must you go about the town on foot; a _birtcha_, or two-horse open hackney carriage or calèche, at two zwanzigers an hour, is indispensable. The vehicles are however generally very good and clean, and the drivers civil; disputes about fares are unknown.” A portion of the above looks like a scene in a pantomime, and this induces me to offer a remnant or two of remark connected with stage costumes. REMNANTS OF STAGE DRESSES. “All these presentments Are only mockeries, and wear false faces.” CHAPMAN’S ‘BUSBY D’AMBOIS.’ There were few people who wore such a stage-look in the last century as a country squire in London. Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff speaks of one whom he had just seen in the Park. He was of a bulk and stature, we are told, larger than the ordinary; “had a red coat, flung open to show a gay calamanco waistcoat; his periwig fell in a very considerable batch upon each shoulder; his arms naturally swung at an unreasonable distance from his sides, which, with the advantage of a cane that he brandished in a great variety of irregular motions, made it unsafe for any one to walk within several yards of him.” If this was the public dress of a country gentleman, the town fops had their own costume for their own stage. There was the dapper gentleman, with his cane hanging to the fifth button. The smart fop rejoiced in red-heeled shoes and a hat hung, rather than cocked, upon one side of the head. The set of “a good periwig made into a twist” denoted the “fellow of mettle.” The coffee-house politician was known by the moustache of snuff on his upper lip; and the lords of acres, as I have just remarked, by their glaring scarlet coats.