lay-sermon and impropriety of not assisting
females in distress, and at that date Mr. T.
P. Cooke was about being thought of.

Jack Ratlin and a friseur or barber are
the characters in Mr. Packwood's little
piece. Jack, in his own free way, bids the
friseur perform his duties, at the same
time candidly intimating doubts as to his
capacity.

"Sare," the friseur answers with pardonable
confidence, " I defy any gentleman of
de comb to perform better de business den
your très-humble serviteur." (Where note,
that about this season also ludicrous Frenchmen
were being brought on, to the infinite
diversion of the public.)

"Shiver my timbers," Jack says, finding
the razor gliding smoothly over his chin;
"but this shave is like sailing before the
wind in a pleasant gale, mounseer!"

Friseur:—"Ce plaisir you receive belong
to de merit of Monsieur Packwood, of Number
Sixteen, Gracechurch street, proprietor
of this new-invented razor strop. La voilà
(presenting it), ma foi."

Jack:—"Avast, you lubber; let me try
my knife. May I never cross the line, if it
does not take out the notches! Mounseer,
are you sure it is not enchanted?"

Friseur (with ingenious turn):—"It's
most likely dat you will be enchanté with de
excellence comme tout le monde before you,
as le noble, le marchand, le docteur, le cutler,
le tonseur, &c."

Jack (departing with morality):—"Heave
ahead there, mounseer; I must inform you
before I set sail, when Bet is cutting her
corns, or I am shaving my phyz, we'll think
on him whose sails being filled with ingenuity
and invention, may insure him a prosperous
gale through life."

It is hard to discredit a son of the ocean,
and yet the strange power of the strop in
taking out notches from a common penknife
seems to task human belief a little strongly.
Yet, what is to be said in the face of this
additional confirmation?

A sceptical bystander, we are told, brought
the subject on at the house of a gentleman of
distinction; the sceptical bystander adding
incautionsly:

"I give no credit to such puffing."

But the unbeliever was to go his way
converted, "for, lo! " says the gentleman of
distinction, "if you have a knife in your
pocket, we will prove the effect."

A knife was produced; also two razors
in a fearful state of corrosion, having
been cast aside some years. After a few
passes on the strop, no less than fifteen
gentlemen were shaved with the instruments
before mentioned. This would seem
conclusive on the matter; but, what is this to
the testimony of a certain farmer of Bullington,
near Andover?

The farmer found one day a case of rusty
razors that had been his grandfather's. They
had lain full thirty years under a hole in a
hay-loft, till the metal was scarcely discernible,
and the blades hacked like a hand-saw.
This case would seem to be wholly desperate,
and yet, by a proper application of the
incomparable razor-strop, the notches became
"totally invisible, and they " (query, the
notches?) "are now in the possession of the
village barber." The chronicler pleasantly
adds, that the last-named gentleman always
saves one or the other of them to shave Mr.
Quiteright, the man-midwife, in cases of
particular hurry.

But the farmer of Bullington pales his
ineffectual fires beside the hunting gentleman
of Kent. This person, who is called Mr.
Nimrod (obviously for the peculiar reasons
that affected Mr. Quiteright's position), this
gentleman of Kent, then, had such a
partiality for hunting, that he could scarce spare
to have his beard taken off. Now, by the
use of the imperial razor strop, he actually
shaves himself on horseback, full gallop,
without the least fear, loss of time, or
hindrance of business!

The case of the Welch gentleman, too, is
worthy of mention. He used to piece out
his income by playing the fiddle, but
unhappily was so puzzled by some of Mr.
Haydn's tunes that he was resolved to find
a new employment. On the discovery of the
superior razor-strop, he takes notches out of
scythes, to the astonishment of the farmers,
and is making a rapid fortune as a country
cutler. Then, adds the Chronicle, rythmically:—

"His razors cut all things as tinder,
Defy the grinstone, shave a cinder!"

Another of these marvellous feats, well
nigh staggering all belief, appeared in the
London Chronicle of the seventeenth of May
seventeen hundred and ninety-six. In that
journal, Fame is personified, and speaks in
this fashion. Says she: "The bashfulness
of the proprietor prevents him doing justice
to himself, when he only speaks of its good
effects, such as taking notches out of carving
knives, &c." Fame then goes on to mention,
that by keeping so much within the bounds
of moderation, he (Packwood) has neglected
to inform you (the public) of a gentleman,
to whom, soon after he had purchased one of
the superior razor-strops, the gardener
complaining that his rag-stone was insufficient to
whet his scythe, the strop was produced, and
by giving it two or three touches, he not
only found it cut grass with facility, but,
strange to relate, he also cut down six
elm-trees that stood in his way! " Which prodigy
seems at least akin to certain Transatlantic
feats; more especially to that marvellous
scythe whose very shadow took off the legs
of certain unwary bystanders.

Mr. Packwood records that he has more
than once been the victim of unfeeling
hoaxes, perhaps owing to an undue fastidiousness