P.S.--It is really very annoying to have to reply to unhandsome and unjust accusations. The REV. MR. ARROWSMITH first transposes two lines of Shakspeare, and then, by notes of admiration, holds me up as a mere simpleton; and then A. E. B. charges me with having pirated from him my explanation of a passage in _Love's Labour's Lost_, Act V. Sc. 2. Let any one compare his (in "N. & Q.," Vol. vi., p. 297.) with mine (Vol. vii., p. 136.), and he will see the utter falseness of the assertion. _He_ makes _contents_ the nom. to _dies_, taken in its ordinary sense (rather an unusual concord). _I_ take _dyes_ in the sense of tinges, imbues with, and make it governed of _zeal_. But perhaps it is to the full-stop at _presents_ that the "that's my thunder!" applies. I answer, that that was a necessary consequence of the sense in which I had taken _dies_, and that _their_ must then refer to _things_ maugre MR. ARROWSMITH. And when he says that I "do him the honour of requoting the line with which he had supported it," I merely observe that it is the line immediately following, and that I have eyes and senses as well as A. E. B. A. E. B. deceives himself, if he thinks that literary fame is to be acquired in this way. I do not much approve either of the manner in which, at least to my apprehension, in his opening paragraph, he seems to insinuate a charge of forgery against MR. COLLIER. Finally, I can tell him that he need not crow and clap his wings so much at his emendation of the passage in _Lear_, for, if I mistake not, few indeed will receive it. It may be nuts to him and MR. ARROWSMITH to know that they have succeeded in driving my name out of the "N. & Q." * * * * * RED HAIR A REPROACH. I do not know the why or the wherefore, but in every part of England I have visited, there appears to be a deep-rooted prejudice in the eyes of the million against people with red hair. Tradition, whether truly or not must remain a mystery, assigns to Absalom's hair a reddish tinge; and Judas, the traitorous disciple, is ever painted with locks of the same unhappy colour. Shakspeare, too, seems to have been embued with the like morbid feeling of distrust for those on whose hapless heads the invidious mark appeared. In his play of _As You Like It_, he makes Rosalind (who is pettishly complaining of her lover's tardiness coming to her) say to Celia: "_Ros._ His very hair is of the dissembling colour. _Celia._ Something browner than Judas'."