"A youth condemn'd his father's soul to cross, Who _picks a pocket_ when he should _engross_!" --was charged with having taken unto himself property to which he had no right or title whatever--to wit, a _barrister's wig_. It appeared by the evidence, that Bob Jenkinson--hopeful Bob, his friends call him; was prowling about Temple Bar in the dead of the night, seeking something for his "pickers and stealers" to do. Presently he was aware of a solitary gentleman approaching the Bar from the city side; and instantly concealed himself in the shade of the archway, he determined to try his luck upon him. The gentleman, so approaching, was a barrister, residing in the Pump-court of the Temple; and he came slowly, and soberly on--wrapped (probably) in professional meditations, little thinking danger was so near him. As he passed through the archway, Bob Jenkinson popp'd from his hiding-place, crept softly after him on tip-toe, slided his hand smoothly into his right-hand coat-pocket, and drew forth--a _wig_! Like _Filch_ in the opera--he dipp'd for a _fogle_ and prigg'd a _wig_! It was not a forensic wig, but a scratch wig, _à la Titus_--one that any closely cropped gentleman might carry in his pocket to clap on occasionally, when sitting in a theatre, or any other place where currents of cold air prevail. Small as it was, however, the barrister felt it depart. He put his hand to his pocket and found it wigless; and there, close by his side, stood Bob Jenkinson with the wig in his hand--wig-struck, as it were; for had the prize been a bandana, or a snuff-box, or any _ordinary_ pocket-property, Bob would have bolted with it _instanter_. "What do you mean by that--you scoundrel?" said the barrister. Bob dropped the wig; the barrister took it up; and having re-pocketed it he deliberately gave unlucky Bob in charge to the watch. Robert had not a word to say in his defence, and the magistrate committed him for trial. A BRUMMYJUM OUTRIDER. One Mr. Peter Muttlebury, a personage with the exterior of a hackney coachman, of the _down_-est cut, but who called himself "a _Brummyjum_ out-rider," was brought before the magistrate one snowy morning, charged with having _borrowed_, with intent to _steal_, an eight guinea inlaid gold and silver snuff-box, with its contents, viz., almost half an ounce of high-dried Irish, from a Mr. William Wilkins--a very small gentleman in a very large cloak, worn military-wise--after the present highly picturesque fashion, which makes a man-milliner look as magnificent as a Field-Marshal.