panions; many most important considerations
arising out of recent and coming events--his altering
circumstances--were momentarily forcing themselves upon his attention.
The first of these was his _hair_; for Heaven seemed to have suddenly
given him the long-coveted means of changing its detested hue; and the
next was _an eyeglass_, without which, he had long felt his appearance
and appointments to be painfully incomplete. Early in the afternoon,
therefore, on the readily admitted plea of important business, he
obtained the permission of the obsequious Mr. Tag-rag to depart for the
day; and instantly directed his steps to the well-known shop of a
fashionable perfumer and perruquier, in Bond Street--well-known to
those, at least, who were in the habit of glancing at the enticing
advertisements in the newspapers. Having watched through the window till
the coast was clear, (for he felt a natural delicacy in asking for a
hair-dye before people who could in an instant perceive his urgent
occasion for it,) he entered the shop, where a well-dressed gentleman
was sitting behind the counter reading. He was handsome; and his
elaborately curled hair was of a heavenly black (so at least Titmouse
considered it) which was better than a thousand printed advertisements
of the celebrated fluid which formed the chief commodity there vended.
Titmouse with a little hesitation, asked this gentleman what was the
price of their article "for turning _light_ hair black"--and was
answered--"only seven and sixpence for the smaller-sized bottle." One
was in a twinkling placed upon the counter, where it lay like a
miniature mummy, swathed, as it were, in manifold advertisements.
"You'll find the fullest directions within, and testimonials from the
highest nobility to the wonderful efficacy of the
'CYANOCHAITANTHROPOPOION.'"[12]

"_Sure_ it will do, sir?" inquired Titmouse, anxiously.

"Is _my_ hair dark enough to your taste, sir?" said the gentleman, with
a calm and bland manner--"because I owe it entirely to this invaluable
specific."

"Do you, indeed, sir?" inquired Titmouse: adding with a sigh, "but,
between ourselves, look at mine!"--and, lifting off his hat for a
moment, he exhibited a great crop of bushy, carroty hair.

"Whew! rather ugly that, sir!"--exclaimed the gentleman, looking very
serious--"What a curse it is to be born with such hair, isn't it?"

"'Pon my life I think so, sir!" answered Titmouse, mournfully; "and do
you really s