is double faced; with one countenance it will smile continually on the friends of Old England, and with the other will frown incessantly on her enemies.
The alteration we have made in our head is not without precedents. The World has parted with half of its Caput Mortuum and a moiety of its brains. The Herald has cut off half of its head, and has lost its original humour. The Post, it is true, retains its whole head and its old features; and as to the other public prints, they appear as having neither heads nor tails.
On the Parliamentary Head every communication that ability and industry can produce may be expected. To this great National object The Times will be most sedulously attentive, most accurately correct, and strictly impartial in its reports.
THEATRE.
Drury Lane.
Hamlet—whose doom, at least this season, has unfortunately been “to walk the night and strut to empty benches”—performed yesterday evening its accustomed penance in lieu of Tamerlane.
Were not this excellent tragedy so often used “on the spur of the occasion,” we think such admirable acting as Kemble’s Prince of Denmark would meet with more attendance—more of applause it could not have.
Mrs. Ward’s performance of the Queen is the best proof of Mrs. Siddon’s assertion, that “Gertrude had more good points about her than the critics were aware of.” Mrs. Ward’s distracted look in the closet scene aided most powerfully Kemble’s piteous exclamation of, “On him! on him!” Indeed, the noble