WITH reference to the several cases of "Masquerading" that have recently been mentioned in the columns of a contemporary, I wish to add a remarkable experience of our own firm, that, if it does not completely clear the matter up, may at least serve to throw a little light upon the subject. Last Friday afternoon a middle-aged man of unmistakable City build dashed wildly into our establishment, and desired to be supplied with "the largest pantomime head" with which we could furnish him. This we fortunately had in stock in the shape of a large green and phosphorescent faced representation of the "Demon of Despair," which was rendered additionally attractive through being supplied with a "trick eye," which worked with a string. It was evidently of the greatest importance to him that the head should be natural and becoming, and by the close and satisfied scrutiny he gave it, and the great care with which he fitted it on, the one with which we supplied him evidently fully answered his requirements. His manner was certainly strange, for though he refused to give his address, he took several flying leaps across the shop, turning a double back somersault as he cleared the counter, and finally asked me whether I thought him sufficiently disguised to avoid recognition in his own immediate circle? I told him candidly that I thought his large head, being peculiar, might possibly draw upon him notice that otherwise he would fail to arouse, and I added, "You see, it is not as if there were a dozen of you." "True," he replied; "you're quite right. There ought to be a dozen of us. Look out the heads. I will go and fetch 'em." And he dashed out of my establishment, followed by a small crowd. In about two hours and a half, however, he returned, accompanied by twelve other middle-aged City men, and in almost as short a time as it takes me to tell it, I had fitted them all with large pantomime heads. He paid the bill and left the shop. I watched them all get on to a King's Cross and Brompton Omnibus, and that was the last I saw of them. There is nothing very remarkable in the occurrence, as we are in the habit of making up disguises, sometimes as many as 500 in an afternoon on the shortest notice. Still I could not help wondering upon what business my eccentric friend was bent. A Divorce Case? Possibly a Murder? Who knows? Perhaps somebody may have met the bevy down West, and can throw some light upon the subject. Meantime, dear _Mr. Punch_, I beg to subscribe myself, Yours respectfully, A SLY FOX BUT A CAUTIOUS COSTUMIER. * * * * * "SHORT NOTICE."--Those who did not hear Mr. GEORGE GROSSMITH'S entertainment at St. James's Hall last Saturday week lost a very great treat. There must have been thousands in London at the moment who suffered this deprivation. Our Special Noticer was among the number. Let us hope GEE-GEE will do it again, and all shall be forgiven. * * * * *