ppeared that a
change of wind during the night had driven the wandering vessel back
into the bay, and Hezekiah, having got over his sick spell by daylight,
crawled forward, got up the jib, and actually made the wharf, as we have
described.

Philosophy of the Times.

The philosophy of the present age is peculiarly the philosophy of
outsides. Few dive deeper into the human breast than the bosom of the
shirt. Who could doubt the heart that beats beneath a cambric front? or
who imagine that hand accustomed to dirty work which is enveloped in
white kid? What Prometheus was to the physical, the tailor is to the
moral man--the one made human beings out of clay, the other cuts
characters out of broadcloth. Gentility is, with us, a thing of the
goose and shears.

The Emperor and the Poor Author.

"The pen is mightier than the sword."

Great men are not the less liable or addicted to very small, and very
mean, and sometimes very _rascally acts_, but they are always fortunate
in having any amount of panegyric graven on marble slabs, shafts and
pillars, o'er their dust, and eulogistic and profound histories written
in memories of the deeds of renown and glory they have executed. An
American 74-gun ship would hardly float the mountains of _tomes_ written
upon Bonaparte and his brilliant career, as a soldier and a conqueror;
but how precious few, insignificant pages do we ever see of the
misdeeds, tyrannies and acts of petty and contemptuous meanness so great
a man was guilty of! Why should authors and orators be so reluctant to
tell the truth of a great man's follies and crimes, seeing with what
convenience and fluency they will _lie_ for him? We contend, and shall
contend, that a truly great man cannot be guilty of a small act, and
that one contemptible or atrocious manifestation in man, is enough to
sully--tarnish the brightness of a dozen brilliant deeds; but
apparently, the accepted notion is--_vice versa_.

In 1830, there lived in the city of Philadelphia, a barber, a poor,
harmless, necessary barber. His antique, or most curious costume,
attracted much attention about the vicinity in which he lived, and no
doubt added somewhat to the custom of his shop, itself a _bijou_ as
curious almost as the proprietor. But as our story has but little to do
with the queer outside of the _barber_ or his _shop_, and we do not now
purpose a whole history of the man, we shall at once proceed to the pith
of our subje