ympathizing in his sorrows, triumphed in them. They reviled him with
bitter expressions, with words even more bitter than the gall and vinegar
which they gave him to drink. Not one of them all that witnessed his
pains, turned the head aside even in the last pang. Yes, there was one;
that glorious luminary, (pointing to the sun,) veiled his bright face and
sailed on in tenfold night!' _This_ is eloquence! Would that we could have
seen the beaming features, the 'melting eye, turned toward heaven,' which
indelibly impressed these words upon the heart of every hearer! . . . MANY
of our readers will doubtless remember the time when Professor J----, the
celebrated 'artist in hair,' was flourishing in his glory, and when his
fame was perhaps as rife in New-York and Boston as that of any man living,
in his line of art. His advertisements too, so unique in their
grandiloquent phraseology, will not soon be forgotten by those who relish
such things. The Professor is not now, as regards worldly prosperity, the
man he used to be; but his gentlemanly feeling still clings to him, and
his pride in his profession is as enthusiastic as ever. We observe by a
Boston journal that he is once more trying his luck in our eastern
metropolis; and this reminds us of an anecdote concerning him. A friend
tells us that some months since he encountered the professor at a
coffee-house, where he was rehearsing to a rather verdant customer the
former glories of his professional life. Among other things, 'At one
time,' said he, 'I was sent for by express, to go to Philadelphia on
professional business.' 'To do what?' asked his listener. 'To make wigs
for the Signers of the Declaration of Independence!' replied J----, with a
pompous air. Now the professor's comrade was not very quick-witted, as we
have already hinted, and it did not occur to him at the moment whether the
signers were men only of yesterday, or of the last century; and he
rejoined, in a tone of wonder: 'What! do they _all_ wear wigs?' '_All?_'
replied the professor, with a look of mingled piety and triumph; 'why,
Sir, did you ever know a wax-figure to wear its own hair? Men of flesh and
blood, now-a-days, don't know any better; but the _man of wax_, Sir,
possesses a truer taste, and always consults the PERRUQUIER!' The relator
says it would be impossible to convey an adequate idea of the superb
manner in which the last word was uttered; the full round tone, and the
tonsorial flourish of the ri