the infrequent performances at the Old Bailey. Those whose moral
sensibilities are refined to the choking point--who can relish stage
strangulation in all its interesting varieties better than Shakspere, are
now provided with a rich treat. They need not wait for the Recorder's
black cap and a black Monday morning--the Sadler's Wells' people hang
every night with great success; for, unless one goes early, there is--as
is the case wherever hanging takes place--no _standing room_ to be had for
love or money.

The play is simply the history of Jack Ketch, a gentleman who flourished
at the beginning of the last century, and who, by industry and
perseverance, attained to the rank of public executioner; an office he
performed with such skill and effect that his successors have, as the
bills inform us, inherited "his soubriquet" with his office. He is
introduced to the audience as a ropemaker's apprentice, living in the
immediate neighbourhood of Execution-Dock, and loving _Barbara Allen_, "a
young spinster residing at the Cottage of Content, upon the borders of
Epping Forest, supporting herself by the produce of her wheel and the
cultivation of her flower-garden." He beguiles his time, while twisting
the hemp, by spinning a tedious yarn about this well-to-do spinster; from
which we infer _Barbara's_ barbarity, and that he is crossed in love. The
soliloquy is interrupted by an elderly man, who enters to remark that he
has come out for a little relaxation after a hard morning's work: no
wonder, for we soon learn that he is the _Jack Ketch_ of his day, and has,
but an hour before, tucked up two brace of pirates. With this pleasing
information, and a sharp dialogue on his favourite subject with the hero,
he retires.

Here the interest begins; three or four foot-stamps are heard behind;
_Jack_ starts--"Ah, that noise," &c.--and on comes the author of the
piece, "his first appearance here these five years." He approaches the
foot-lights--he turns up his eyes--he thumps his breast--and goes through
this exercise three or four times, before the audience understand that
they are to applaud. They do so; and the play goes on as if nothing had
happened; for this is an episode expressive of a "first appearance these
five years." _Gipsy George_ or Mr. G. Almar, whichever you please, having
assured _Jack Ketch_ that he is starving and in utter destitution,
proceeds to give five shillings for a piece of rope, and walks away, after
taking g