de, Sir, if you please--a little more towards the light,
if you please--that will do excellently--why you'll look quite another
thing!--From the country, I presume?" "You are right," said Bob, "but I
don't want a wig just yet."

"Shall be happy to fit you upon all occasions--masquerade, ball, or
supper, Sir: you may perhaps wish to go out, as we say in the West, in
coy.--happy to receive your commands at any time, prompt attention and
dispatch."

"Zounds! you are clipping the wig too close," said Tom, impatient to hear
the story, "and if you go on at this rate, you won't leave us even the
_tail_ (tale)."

"Right, Sir, I take--'and thereby hangs a tale.' The observation is
in point, _verbum sat_, as the latinist would say. Well, Sir, as I was
saying, a citizen, with a design to outdo his neighbours, called at
one of the first shops in London a very short time since, and gave
particular orders to have his _pericranium_ fitted with a wig of the
true royal cut. The dimensions of his upper story were taken--the order
executed to the very letter of the instructions--it fitted like wax--it
was nature--nay it soared beyond nature--it was the perfection of
art--the very acme of science! Conception was outdone, and there is no
power in language to describe it. He was delighted; his wife was charmed
with the idea of a new husband, and he with his new wig; but

"Now comes the pleasant joke of all,
'Tis when too close attack'd we fall."

The account was produced---would you believe it, he refused to have
it--he objected to the price."

"The devil take it!" said Tom, "object to pay for the acme of
perfection; this unnaturally natural wig would have fetched any money
among the collectors of curiosities."

"What was the price?" enquired Bob.

"Trifling, Sir, very trifling, to an artist 'of the first water,' as a
jeweller would say by his diamonds--only thirty guineas!!!"

"Thirty guineas!" exclaimed Bob, starting from his seat, and almost
overturning the _modernizer_ of his head.

~56~~Then, recollecting Sparkle's account of Living in Style, and Good
Breeding, falling gently into his seat again.

"Did I hurt you, Sir?" exclaimed the Peruquier.

Dashall bit his lip, and smiled at the surprise of his Cousin, which was
now so visibly depicted in his countenance.

"Not at all," replied Tallyho.

"In two minutes more, Sir, your head will be a grace to; Bond Street or
St. James's; it cuts well, and looks well; and