room, then an indispensable apartment, gazing through the horny eyes of his mask upon his puffing decorator, dim amid the cloud of dust as the Juno of Ixion: when all his complicated titivation was to be incurred with aggravated detail before every dinner-party or ball-then was the time that the Barbers, like the celestial bodies, which have great glory and little rest, were harassed and honoured, tipped and tormented, coaxed and cursed. Then was the time that a COURTOIS could amass a princely fortune, which an audacious Mrs. Phipoe, not having tonsorial fear before her eyes, vainly endeavoured to appropriate. And I appeal to the experienced reader, whether the profession did not at this busy period, when there was an absolute contention for their favours, conduct themselves in their high calling with an indefatigable alertness and suavity, shooting like meteors from street to street, plying the puff morning and evening, overnight and all night, and often. sacrificing their own health in ministering to the pleasures of others.

Where, indeed, is the Barber of any age or country against whom an imputation can be justly levelled? His is one of the fine arts which pre-eminently "emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros." As iron, by attrition with the magnet, obtains some of its power of attraction, so does he, by always associating with his superiors, acquire

portion of their polish and urbanity. Shoemakers, tailors, and other artisans of lonely and sedentary life, are generally morose, melancholy, atrabilarious, subject to religious hypochondriacism; but the patron of the puff is locomotive and social in his habits, buoyant, brisk, and hilarious in his temperament. There is not,

perhaps, a single instance of a fanatic barber: and how many traits are recorded of their generous forbearance. Alfieri was so nervously sensitive, that if one hair was pulled a little tighter than the rest, he would fly into a paroxysm of rage, draw his sword, and threaten to destroy the offender; yet such was his confidence, that he would the next moment submit his throat to his razor. How calm and dignified was the reply of one of this class to the pimple-faced madman, who, with a loaded pistol in his hand, compelled him to take off his beard, declaring that if he cut him in a single place, he would instantly blow out his brains. After successfully accomplishing his difficult task, he was asked whether he had not been terrified during the operation. "No, Sir,” he replied, "for the moment I had drawn blood, I had made up my mind to cut your throat!"

In corroboration of our estimate of this character, let it be added, that though none has been more frequently handled by authors, the Barber is never placed in a degrading or unworthy light. True to nature, they may occasionally render him ridiculous, but never odious. On the stage we have been delighted with his eccentricities, from him of Seville down to Dickey Gossip, whose representative, Suett, with his rapid and ready cackle, will not easily be forgotten. Which of us has not laughed at the chattering impertinent of the Arabian Nights, who, being sent for to shave a customer in all haste, spent a long time in preparing his apparatus, took a handsome astrolabe out of his budget, very gravely measured the height of the sun, and exclaimed

"Sir, you will be pleased to know that this day is Friday the 18th of the month Saffar, in the year 653

from the retreat of our great Prophet from Mecca to Medina, and in the year 7320 of the epocha of the great Iskender with two horns,”—and finally drove the poor man out of his wits with his dilatory loquacity?— Cervantes expressly informs us that the Curate, and Mr. Nicholas the Barber, were two of Don Quixote's "best friends and companions;" and it is remarkable that he not only selects the latter, as one of the most enlightened personages in the neighbourhood, to assist the Licentiate in the expurgation of the Knight's library, but avails himself of his talents throughout the whole work, and mentions him upon all occasions with singular respect and affection. Moreover, upon Sancho's resolving to have a Barber of his own, soon after the affair of Mambrino's helmet, Don Quixote applauds his resolution, places that functionary above a master of the horse, and exclaims—“Truly, it is an office of greater confidence to trim the beard than to saddle the horse."-Nay, upon another occasion he even elevates it above divinity; for, when it was proposed that they should invite the Curate and the Barber to join them in their Arcadian scheme, and assist them in becoming pastoral and poetical, Don Quixote observes,-" Of the Curate I shall say nothing, though I should lay a good wager that his collars and points are truly poetical: and that Master Nicholas is in the same fashion I do not at all doubt, for people of his profession are famous for making ballads and playing on the guitar.”

Signor Diego, the Barber of Olmedo, is represented in Gil Blas as a generous and hospitable personage; while the sprightly, quick-witted, and faithful Fabricio the poet, inherited his virtues and his talents from old

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Nunez, another operator upon the chin. STRAP, the equally faithful companion and assistant of Roderick Random, will occur to all readers; and a hundred others, quos numerare tædet," might easily be adduced; but it is quite sufficient to state, in conclusion, that honourable mention has been made of the tonsorial adept both by Shakspeare and Sir William Curtis !

What and where are they now, the representatives of this illustrious line of ancestors? They may indeed exclaim, "Eheu! fuimus! fuimus!" With the exception of a few who still coldly furnish forth the heads of our divinity and law professors, they are all

"Fallen fallen! fallen! fallen!

Fallen from their high estate,"

and languishing in inactivity and poverty. Each supports his reverses with a meek though dignified resignation, and each, in rebuke of this ungrateful era, may proudly exclaim with Lord Verulam in his Will-"For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable speeches, and to foreign nations, and the next ages.”

SATIRISTS OF WOMEN.

CHANCES OF FEMALE HAPPINESS.

"But what so pure which envious tongues will spare?

Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair."

"On me when dunces are satiric,

I take it for a panegyric."

POPE.

SWIFT.

ANACREON being asked why he addressed all his hymns

to women and none to the gods, answered,—" Because

women are my deities;" and the ladies were, no doubt, mightily indebted to him and similar voluptuaries, who set them up in their houses, as certain barbarous nations did their Lares and Lemures, for playthings and ornaments, to be deified when their owners were in good luck and good humour, and vilipended and trodden under foot in every access of passion or reverse of fortune. Little flattering as is such praise, it is still observable that the ancient writers seldom abused the sex "in good set terms," or carried their vituperation beyond the excusable limits of raillery and a joke. Socrates vented only witticisms against Xantippe: Xenarchus, the comic poet, in noticing that none but the male grasshoppers sing, exclaims, "How happy are they in having dumb wives!" and Ebulus, another old Grecian jester, after mentioning the atrocities of Medea, Clytemnestra, and Phædra, says it is but fair that he should proceed to enumerate the virtuous heroines, when he suddenly stops short, wickedly pretending that he cannot recollect a single one. Among the Romans we know that Juvenal dedicated his sixth Satire to the abuse of the fair sex, but his worst charge only accuses them of being as bad as the men; and if we are to infer that the licentiousness of his own life was at all equal to the grossness of his language, we may safely presume that his female acquaintance were not among the most favourable specimens of the race. The unnatural state of Monachism has been the bitter fountain whence has flowed most of the still more unnatural abuse of women; the dark ages have supplied all the great luminaries of Mysogyny, who have ransacked their imaginations to supply reasons for perverted religion,