HARD TO REMEMBER.
Lord Monteagle, on being shown one of the Exchequer Bills, supposed to have been forged, declared that he did not know if the signature attached to it was his handwriting or not. We do not feel surprised at this—his Lordship has put his hand to so many jobs that it would be impossible he could remember every one of them.
THE CROPS.
A most unfounded report of the approaching demise of Colonel Sibthorp reached town early last week. Our Leicester correspondent has, however, furnished us with the following correct particulars, which will be read with pleasure by those interested in the luxuriant state of the gallant orator’s crops. The truth is, he was seen to enter a hair-dresser’s shop, and it got about amongst the breathless crowd which soon collected, that the imposing toupée, the enchanting whiskers that are the pride of the county, were to be cropped! This mistake was unhappily removed to give place to a more fatal one; for instead of submitting to the shears, the venerable joker bought a paper of poudre unique, from which arose the appalling report that he was about to dye!
Our kind friend the indefatigable “correspondent” of the Observer, informs us from authority upon which every reliance may be placed, that Mr. Grant, the indefatigable statist and author of “Lights and Shadows of London Life,” is now patiently engaged in researches of overwhelming importance to the public. He will, in his next edition of the above-named work, be enabled to state from personal inquiry, how many ladies residing within a circuit of ten miles round London wear false fronts, with the colours respectively of their real and their artificial hair, together with the number of times per year the latter are dressed. Besides this, this untiring author has called at every hairdresser’s in the London Directory, to ascertain the number of times per quarter each customer has his hair cut, with the quantity and length denuded. From these materials a result will be drawn up, showing the average duration of crops; and also how far the hair-cuttings of every day in London would reach, if each hair were joined together and placed somewhere, so as to go—when enough is collected—round the world.
The Morning Herald of Monday informs us, that the King of Hanover has passed a law to regulate the crops not only of the army, but of those in the civil employ of government. The moustaches of the former are to be, we hear, exact copies of those sported by Muntz. The hair is to be cut close, so as to be woven into regulation whiskers for those to whom nature has denied them. The pattern whisker was lately submitted by Mr. Truefit, who is to be the army contractor for the same. It curls over the cheek, and meets the moustaches at the corners of the mouth.
In consequence of this measure, large sales in bear’s grease were made by the Russian merchants on ‘Change yesterday for the German markets. A consequent rise in this species of manure took place; this will, it is feared, have a bad effect upon the British crops, which have already assumed a dry and languid appearance.