he new poor-law? is it that I may be impressed as a
seaman, or mistaken for a Yankee? or is it some unknown and visionary
terror, unseen, unheard of, but foreshadowed by a diseased
imagination; No; nothing of the kind. It is a palpable, sentient,
existent thing--neither more nor less than the worshipful Sir Peter
Laurie.

Every newspaper you take up announces that Sir Peter, with a hearty
contempt for the brevity of the fifty folio volumes that contain the
laws of our land, in the plenitude of his power and the fulness of his
imagination, keeps adding to the number; so that if length of years be
only accorded to that amiable individual in proportion to his merits,
we shall find at length that not only will every contingency of our
lives be provided for by the legislature, but that some standard for
personal appearance will also be adopted, to which we must conform as
rigidly as to our oath of allegiance.

[Illustration]

A few days ago a miserable creature, a tailor we believe, some decimal
fraction of humanity, was brought up before Sir Peter on a trifling
charge of some kind or other. I forget his offence, but whatever it
was, the penalty annexed to it was but a fine of half-a-crown. The
prisoner, however, who behaved with propriety and decorum, happened to
have long black hair, which he wore somewhat "_en jeune France_" upon
his neck and shoulders; his locks, if not ambrosial, were tastefully
curled, and bespoke the fostering hand of care and attention. The
Rhadamanthus of the police-office, however, liked them not: whether it
was that he wore a Brutus himself, or that his learned cranium had
resisted all the efficacy of Macassar, I cannot say; but certain it
is, that the tailor's ringlets gave him the greatest offence, and he
apostrophised the wearer in the most solemn manner:

"I have sat," said he, "for ----," as I quote from memory I sha'n't
say how many, "years upon the bench, and I never yet met an honest man
with long hair. The worst feature in your case is your ringlets. There
is something so disgusting to me in the odious and abominable vice you
have indulged in, that I feel myself warranted in applying to you the
heaviest penalty of the law."

The miserable man, we are told, fell upon his knees, confessed his
delinquency, and, being shorn of his locks in the presence of a
crowded court, his fine was remitted, and he was liberated.

Now, perhaps, you will suppose that all this is a mere matter of
inv