Imatges de pàgina
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to heaviness. He usually wears powder, nature than one of these wigs—so frank, en for it looks respectable, and is professional sincere, and so warm an apology for want withal. The last of the almost forgotten of hair, scorning to deceive the observer, and quite despised race of pigtails, once or to crown the veteran head with adolesproudly cherished by all ranks-now pro cent curls. The ancient wig, whether scribed, banished, or, if at all seen, dimi a simple scratch, a plain bob, or a splendid nished in stateliness and bulk, “shorn of periwig, was one which a man might moits fair proportions,"—lingers fondly with destly hold on one hand, while with the its former nurturer; the neat-combed, even other he wiped his bald pate ; but with clipped hairs, encased in their tight swathe what grace could a modern wig-wearer of black ribbon, topped by an airy bow, dismount a specific deception, an elaborate nestle in the well-clothed neck of the mo imitation of natural curls to exhibit a hairdern barber. Yet why do I call him less scalp? It would be either a censure modern True, he lives in our, but he on his vanity, or a sarcasm on his otherbelongs to former times, of which he is the wise unknown deficiency. The old wig, remembrancer and historian—the days of on the contrary, was a plain acknowledgbags, queues, clubs, and periwigs, when a ment of want of hair; avowing the comhalo of powder, pomatum, and frizzed curls fort, or the inconvenience, (as it might encircled the heads of our ancestors. That happen,) with an independent indifference glory is departed; the brisk and agile to mirth or pity; and forming a decent tonsor, once the genius of the toilet, no covering to the head that sought not to belonger directs, with the precision of a can come either a decoration or deceit. Peace noneer, rapid discharges of scented atoms to the manes of the primitive artificers of against bristling batteries of his own crea human hair—the true skull-thatchers—the ion.. “ The barber's occupation's gone,” architects of towering toupees-the enwith all the “pride, pomp, and circum- gineers of flowing periwigs ! stance of glorious wigs !"

The wig-makers (as they still denominate Methinks I detect some unfledged reader, themselves) in Lincoln's-inn and the Temupon whose head of hair the sun of the ple, are quite of the “old school.” Their eighteenth century never shone, glancing shady, cool, cleanly, classic recesses, where his.“mind's eye” to one of the more embryo chancellors have been measured recent and fashionable professors of the art for their initiatory forensic wigs; where the of“ ciseaurie”-one of the chemical per. powdered glories of the bench have oftfumers, or self-esteemed practitioners of the times received a re-revivification; where present day, in search of an exemplification some “old Bencher” still resorts, in his of my description :-he is at fault. Though undress, to have his nightly growth of he may deem Truefit or Macalpine mo beard shaven by the “particular razor;" dels of skill, and therefore of description, I these powder-scented nooks, these legal must tell him I recognise none such. I dressing-closets seem, like the “statutes at speak of the last generation, (between large," io resist, tacitly but effectually, the which and the present, Ross, and Taylor of progress of innovation. They are like the Whitechapel, are the connecting links, the old law offices, which are scattered up and last remnants of whom haunt the solitary, down in various corners of the intricate well-paved,silent corners and less frequented maze of “courts,” constituting the “ Temstreets of London-whose windows ex- ple"—unchangeable by time; except wher hibit no waxen busts, bepainted and be the hand of death removes

some old dizened in fancy dresses and flaunting tenant at will, who has been refreshed by feathers, but one or two “old original the cool-borne breezes from the river, or blocks or dummies, crowned with sober- soothed by the restless monotony of the looking, respectable, stiff-buckled, brown plashing fountain, “sixty years since."wigs, such as our late venerable monarch But I grow serious.—The barber possesses used to wear. There is an aboriginal wig- that distinction of gentleness, a soft and maker's shop at the corner of an inn-yard white hand, of genial and equable temperain Bishopsgate-street; a repository” of ture, neither falling to the “zero of chillihair; the window of which is tull of these ness, nor rising to the “ fever heat” of primitive caxons, all of a sober brown, or perspiration, but usually lingering at siinpler flaxen, with an occasional contrast is blood heat.” I know not if any one ever of rusty black, forming, as it were, a finis shook hands with his barber : there needs to the by-gone fashion. Had our first fore no such outward demonstration of goodfather, Adam, been bald, he could not have will; no grip, like that we bestow upon worn a more simply artificial imitation of an old friend returned after a long absence,

by way of river, as it were, to that link in pation, and active leisure, time seems to the chain of friendship. His air of courtesy pass unheeded, and the wheel of chance, keeps a good understanding floating be. scattering fragments of circumstance from tween him and his customers, which, if the rock of destiny, continues its relentless ruffled by a hasty departure, or dismissal, and unremittent revolution, unnoticed by is revived the next day by the sun-light of him. He hears not the roar of the fearful his morning smile!

engine, the groans and sighs of despair, or The barber's hand is unlike that of any the wild laugh of exultation, produced by other soft hand : it is not flabby, like that its mighty working. All is remote, strange, of a sensualist; nor arid, and thin, like a stu- and intricate, and belongs not to him to dent's; nor dead white, like that of a deli- know. He dwells in an area of peace-a cate female; but it is naturally warm, of a magic circle whose area might be deglowing, transparent colour, and of a scribed by his obsolete sign-pole! cushiony, elastic softness. Beneath its Nor does the character of the barber vary conciliatory touch, as it prepares the skin in other countries. He seems to flourish in for the sweeping course of the razor, and its unobtrusive prosperity all the world over. gentle pressure, as it inclines the head to In the east, the clime most congenial to his either side, to aid the operation of the scis. avocations, the voluminous beard makes sors, a man may sit for hours, and feel no up for the deficiency of the ever-turbaned, weariness. Happy must he be who lived close-shorn skull, and he exhibits the triin the days of long, or full.dressed hair, umph of his skill in its most special departand resigned himself for a full hour to the ment. Transport an English barber to Sapassive luxury of hair-dressing! A morn- marcand, or Ispahan, and, saving the laning's toilette-(for a gentleman, I mean; guage, he would feel quite at home. Here being a bachelor, I am uninitiated in the he reads the newspaper, and, unless any arcana of a lady's dressing-room)-a morn- part is contradicted by his customers, ing's toilette in those days was indeed an he believes it all : it is his oracle. At important part of the “business of life :” Constantinople the chief eunuch would conthere were the curling-irons, the comb, the fide to him the secrets of the seraglio as if pomatum, the powder-puff, the powder- he were a genuine disciple of Mahomet; knife, the mask, and a dozen other requi- and with as right good will as ever old sites to complete the elaborate process that gossip" vented a bit of scandal with unperfected that mysterious “ frappant, or constrained volubility of tongue. He would iintinabulant appendage to the back part listen to, aye and put faith in, the relations of the head. Oh! it must have been a of the coffee-house story-tellers who came to luxury—a delight surpassing the famed have their beards trimmed, and repaid him baths and cosmetics of the east.

with one of their inventions for bis trouble. I have said that the barber is a gentle What a dissection would a barber's brain man; if not in so many words, I have at afford, could we but discern the mine of least pointed out that distinguishing trait latent feuds and conspiracies laid up there in him. He is also a humane man: his in coil, by their spleenful and mischievous occupation of torturing hairs leaves him inventors. I would that I could unpack neither leisure nor disposition to torture the hoarded venom, all hurtless in that ought else. He looks as respectable as he “cool grot,” as destructive stores are deis; and he is void of any appearance of posited in an arsenal, where light and heat deceit or cunning. There is less of per

His mind admits no spark of sonality or egotism about him than mankind malice to fire the train of jealousy, or exin general : though he possesses an idio- plode the ammunition of petty strife; and syucrasy, it is that of his class, not of him it were well for the world and society, if self. As he sits, patiently renovating some the intrigue and spite of its inhabitants dilapidated peruke, or perseveringly pre- could be poured, like the “ cursed juice of sides over the developement of grace in Hebenon," into his ever-open ear, and be some intractable bush of hair, or stands buried for ever in the oblivious chambers at his own threshold, in the cleanly pride of his brain. Vast as the caverned ear of white apron and hose, lustrous shoes, of Dionysius the tyrant, his contains in its and exemplary jacket, with that studied labyrinthine recesses the collected scandal yet seeming disarrangement of hair, as of- neighbourhoods, the chatter of houseihough subduing, as far as consistent with holds, and even the crooked policy of propriety, the visible appearance of tech- courts; but ail is decomposed and neutranical skill-as he thus, untired, goes the lized there. It is the very quantity of this uever-varying round of his pleasant occu- freight of plot and detraction that renders

never come.

him so harmless. It is as ballast to the 2. Love nothing but what is good, and sails of his judgment. He mixes in no do all that thou lovest to do; think nothing conspiracy, domestic or public. The foul- but what is true, and speak not all that est treason would remain“ pure in the last thou thinkest. recesses of his mind.” He knows not of, 3. O kings ! tame your passions, govern cares not for, feels no interest in all this yourselves ; and it will be only child's play material of wickedness, any more than the to you to govern the world. unconscious paper that bears on its lettered 4. O kings! O people! it can never be forehead the “ sixth edition” of a bulletin. often enough repeated to you, what the

Amiable, contented, respected race - half-witted venture to doubt, that there is I exclaim with Figaro, “ Oh, that I were a no happiness without virtue, and no virtue happy barber !"

without the fear of God. Gaston.

ENCOURAGEMENT TO AUTHORS. Books.

Whether it is perfectly consistent in an

author to solicit the indulgence of the pubTHE KING OF INDIA'S LIBRARY.

lic, though it may star first in his wishes, Dabshelim, king of India, had so nume

admits à doubt; for, if his productions rous a library, that a hundred brachmans will not bear the light, it may be said, why were scarcely sufficient to keep it in order; does he publish? but, if they will, there is and it required a thousand dromedaries to

no need to ask a favour; the world receives transport it from one place to another. As one from him. Will not a piece everlasthe was not able to read all these books, he ingly be tried by its merit? Shall we proposed to the brachmans to make extracts esteem it the higher, because it was written from them of the best and most useful of at the age of thirteen ? because it was the their contents. These learned personages

effort of a week ? delivered extempore? set themselves so heartily to work, that in hatched while the author stood upon one less than twenty years they had compiled of leg? or cobbled, while he cobbled a shoe all these extracts a little encyclopædia of or will it a recommendation, that it issues twelve thousand volumes, which thirty forth in gilt binding ? The judicious camels could carry with ease. They had world will not be deceived by the tinselled the honour to present it to the king. But, purse, but will examine whether the conhow great was their amazement, on his

tents are sterling. giving them for answer, that it was impossible for him to read thirty camel-loads of books. They therefore reduced their ex

POETICAL ADVICE. tracts to fifteen, afterwards to ten, then to

For the Table Book. four, then to two dromedaries, and at last there remained only so much as to load a I have pleasure in being at liberty to mule of ordinary stature.

publish a poetical letter to a young poet Unfortunately, Dabshelim, during this from one yet younger; who, before the process of melting down his library, was years of manhood, has attained the height grown old, and saw no probability of living of knowing on what conditions the muse to exhaust its quintessence to the last vo may be successfully wooed, and imparts the lume. “ Illustrious sultan,” said bis vizir, secret to his friend. Some lines towards the sage Pilpay," though I have but a very the close, which refer to his co-aspirant's imperfect knowledge of your royal library, effusions, are omitted. yet I will undertake to deliver you a very brief and satisfactory abstract of it. You

To R. R. shall read it through in one minute, and

To you, dear Rowland, lodg'd in town, yet you will find matter in it for reflecting Where Pleasure's smile soothes Winter's frown, upon throughout the rest of your life."

I write while chilly breezes blow, Having said this, Pilpay took a palm leaf, And the dense clouds descend in snow. and wrote upon it with a golden style the For Twenty-six is nearly dead, four following sentences :

And age has whitend o'er her head; 1. The greater part of the sciences com Her velvet robe is stripp'd away, prise but one single word— Perhaps : and Her watery pulses hardly play ; the whole history of mankind contains no Clogg'd with the withering leaves, the wind more than three-they are born, suffer, die. Comes with his blighting blast behind,

And here and there, with prying eye,
And Aagging wings a bird Aits by;
(For every Robin sparer grows,
And every Sparrow robbing goes.)
The Year's two eyes—the sun and moon-
Are fading, and will fade full soon ;*
With shattered forces Autumn yields,
And Winter triumphs o'er the fields.
So thus, alas ! I'm gagg'd it seems,
From converse of the woods and streams,
(For all the countless rhyming rabble
Hold leaves can wbisper—waters babble)
And, house-bound for whole weeks together
By stress of lungs, and stress of weather,
Feed on the more delightful strains
Of howling winds, and pelting rains ;
Which shake the house, froin rear to van,
Like valetudinarian;
Pouring innumerable streams
Of arrows, thro' a thousand seams :
Arrows so fine, the nicest eye
Their thickest Aight can ne'er descry,-
Yet fashion'd with such subtle art,
They strike their victim to the heart;
While imps, that Ay upon the point,
Raise racking pains in every joint.

Nay, more-these winds are thought magicians,
And supereminent physicians :
For men who have been kill'd outright,
They cure again at dead of night.
That double witch, wbo erst did dwell
In Endor's cave, raised Samuel;
But they each night raise countless hosts
Of wandering sprites, and sheeted ghosts ;
Turn shaking locks to clanking chains,
And howl most supernatural strains:
While all our dunces lose their wits,
And pass the night in ague-fits.

Just breathe upon the grand array, And ice-bergs slide in seas away. Now on the scout I sally forth, The weather-cock due E. by N. To meet some masquerading fog, Which makes all nature dance incog. And spreads blue devils, and blue looke, Till exercised by tongues and books. Books, do I say? full well I wist A book's a famous exorcist! A book's the tow that makes the tether That binds the quick and dead together ; A speaking trumpet under ground, That turns a silence to a sound; A magic mirror formd to show, Worlds that were dust ten thousand years ago. They're aromatic cloths, that hold The mind embalm'd in many a fold, And look, arrang'd in dust-hung rooms, Like mummies in Egyptian tombs ; -Enchanted echoes, that reply, Not to the ear, but to the eye ; Or pow'rful drugs, that give the brain, By strange contagion, joy or pain. A book's the phoenix of the earth, Which bursts in splendour from its birth: And like the moon without her wanes, Prom every change new lustre gains; Shining with undiminish'd light, While ages wing their idle fight. By such a glorious theme inspired Still could I sing—but you are tired : (Tho' adamantine lungs would do, Ears should be adamantine too,) And thence we may deduce 'tis better To answer ('faith 'tis time) your letter. To answer first what first it says. Why will you speak of partial praise ? I spoke with honesty and truth, And now you seem to doubt them both. The lynx's eye may seem to him, Who always has enjoy'd it, dim: And brilliant thoughts to you may be What common-place ones are to me. You note them not-but cast them by, As light is lavish'd by the sky; Or streams from Indian mountains roll'd Fling to the ocean grains of gold. But still we know the gold is fine But still we know the light's divine. As to the Century and Pope, The thought's not so absurd, I hope. I don't despair to see a throne Reard above his—and p'rhaps your own. The course is clear, the goals in view, 'Tis free to all, why not to you? But, ere you start, you should surve The towering falcon strike her prey: In grada al sweeps the sky she scales. Nor all at once the bird assails,

While this nocturnal series blows
I hide my head beneath the clothes,
And sue the power whose dew distils
The only balm for human ills.
All day the sun's prevailing beam
Absorbs this dew from Letbe's stream:
All night the falling moisture sheds
Oblivion over mortal heads.
Then sinking into sleep I fall,
And leave them piping at their ball.
When morning comes-no summer's morn-
I wake and tind the spectres gone;
But on the casement see emboss'd
A mimic world in crusted frost;
Ice-bergs, high shores, and wastes of snow,
Mountains above, and seas below;
Or, if Imagination bids,
Vast crystal domes, and pyramids.
Then starting from my couch I leap,
And shake away the dregs of sleep,"

• To shield this line from criticism

"Tis Parody-pot Plagiarism.

Dr. King-His PUN.

Bnt hems himn in--cuts round the skies,
A od gains upon him as he flies.
Wearied and faint he beats the air in vain,
Then shuts his Aaggy wings, and pitches to the plain.
Now, falcon i now i One stoop-but one,
The quarry's struck-the prize is won !

So he who hopes the palm to gain,
So often sought-and sought in vain,
Must year by year, as round by round,
la easy circles leave the ground:
'Tis time has taught himn how to rise,
And naturalized him to the skies.
Full many a day Pope trod the vales,
Mid - silver streams and murmuring gales.''
Long feard the rising hills to tread,
Nor ever dared the mountain-head.

The late Dr. King, of Oxford, by actively interfering in some measures which materially affected the university at large, became very popular with some individuals, and as obnoxious with others. The mode of expressing disapprobation at either o' the universities in the senate-house, ou schools, is by scraping with the feet : but deviating from the usual custom, a party was made at Oxford to hiss the doctor at the conclusion of a Latin oration he had to make in public. This was accordingly done : the doctor, however, did not suffer himself to be disconcerted, but turning round to the vice-chancellor, said, very gravely, in an audible voice, “ Laudatur ab His."

It needs not Milton to display,-
Who let a life-time slide away,
Before he swept the sounding string,
And soar'd on Pegasean wing,
Nor Homer's ancient form-to show
The Laurel takes an age to grow ;
And he who gives his name to fate,
Must plant it early, reap it late ;
Nor pluck the blossoms as they spring,
So beautiful, yet perishing.

February Conviviality and good cheer may convert the most dreary time of the year into a season of pleasure; and association of ideas, that great source of our keenest pleasures, may attach delightful innages to the howling wind of a bleak winter's night, and the hoarse screeching and mystic hooting of the ominous owl.**

More I would say—but, see,

the

paper
Is nearly out-and so's my taper.
So while I've space, and while I've light,
I'll shake your hand, and bid good-night.

F. P. H. Croydon, Dec. 17, 1826.

WINTER.

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Ton bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen horpe in pail;

When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-who ;
Tu-whit tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Anecdotes.

GENERAL WOLFE.

It is related of this distinguished officer, that his death-wound was not received by the common chance of war.

Wolfe perceived one of the sergeants of his regiment strike a man under arms, (an act against which he had given particular orders,) and knowing the man to be a good soldier; reprehended the aggressor with much warmth, and threatened to reduce him to the ranks. This so far incensed the sergeant, that he deserted to the enemy, where he meditated the means of destroying the general. Being placed in the enemy's left wing, which was directly opposed to the right of the British line, where Wolfe commanded in person, he aimed at his old commander with his rifle, and effected his deadly purpose.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw:

Then roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
And nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-who;
Tu-whit tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Shakspeare. To“ keel" the pot is an ancient spelling for "cool,” which is the past participle of the verb: see Tooke's “ Diversions of Pure ley," where this passage is so explained.

• Dr. Forster's Perennial Calendar,

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