experience of the fair sex than you have, and I say emphatically, that I have generally found them to like manly-looking men; they say a beardless man looks effeminate.

R. Do you mean to say, then, that ladies like the coxcombs of London, for instance! I hear that the 'gents,' the 'fast men,' and the 'fops,' 'sport' moustaches most plentifully.

S. You are again out of your reckoning. What a fool your master would be if he refused to eat his dinner because the fop dined; and to walk on his hands and knees, because the fop walked on his legs.

R. Oh, I see I can make no impression upon yon. You are case hardened.

S. If your argument was as logical as your wit was sharp, you would impress me; but you deal in nothing but assertions. An advocate who does not use his case better than you, ought to be strapped.

R. For my own part, I should have no objection to that, provided it were done with hair-oil. But you do not, Mr. Scissors, take a comprehensive view of the subject, or you would admit that, after so many centuries of experience, this moustache movement is a contemptible innovation.

S. Even on the face of the subject you are wrong. If you were consistent, you should go to the root of the matter. You condemn beards and moustaches altogether: at that rate, Mr. Tweezers would be more useful than yourself. For if the beard be an evil, the sooner it is got rid of root and branch the better. It would save young shavers much time and trouble, and old blades like yourself a great deal of wear and tear.

R. Now, what I complain of is, that you do not 'go the whole hog," bristles and all. If you left the beard grow without interfering with it, there would be more force in your logic. As it is, every one follows his own capricious taste. One cuts off his beard and leaves his whiskers; another cuts off his whiskers and leaves his beard; another shaves both beard and whiskers, and leaves nothing but an imperial or moustache, or both. Prince Albert wears only a moustache. Such as Lord John Manners and M. Julien wear both imperial and moustache. Albert Smith has immense whiskers and moustache united; the moustache of the Emperor of Russia turn up at the corners, those of the King of Belgium turn down, and those of Louis Napoleon do neither the one nor the other, but taper out horizontally to a point. Kossuth's beard and moustache are altogether unlike those of Mazzini, and Radetsky's differed still more widely from those

of Haynau; George Cruikshanks' differ from Digby Wyatt's, to use a homely phrase, as much as chalk differs from cheese. I consider that Mr. Muntz, MP., Sir Charles Napier, Major Herbert Edwardes, and others, who don't shave at all, to be the most consistent.

S. Perhaps so. But I have yet to learn why every man should wear his beard cut in the same style, any more than all should wear coats of the same colour. The tastes of men differ. All men do not wear their hair alike. Some wear it short, others wear it long; some part it at the sides, others in the middle; some part it at both sides of their heads, and others don't part it at all. And what a variety of ways ladies wear their hair. In fine, what a dull monotonous world it would be if every one dressed and appeared alike. Variety is charming in human dress as well as in other things. The human beard being capable of being trimmed into such a variety of picturesque shapes, I think it would be the height of folly for everybody to imitate everybody else.

moner.

R. Why this rage for hairy faces at the present time is nothing but a miserable imitation. Some imitate Prince Albert, others ape Louis Napoleon. The mass of mankind appear to have no minds of their own: the peer imitates the prince, the commoner the peer, and the shopkeeper the comA year or two since the Queen, during a visit in Scotland, happened to tie her veil under her chin as a temporary protection from the cold; a few months after there could scarcely be seen a lady the veil of whose bonnet was not tied beneath the chin. A short time since Prince Albert had the measles, and, considering the imitative faculty of that animal-man, I wonder how it did not become fashionable to have the measles.

S. Well, if men will imitate, it is as well that they should imitate a wise practice as an absurd one. When the Emperor Charles V. ascended the throne of Spain, being only sixteen years of age, he had no beard. Almost immediately after all the courtiers appeared beardless, with the exception of a few grave old men, who were too wise to be influenced by a foolish fashion. In France, the beard fell into disrepute after the death of Henry IV., from the mere reason that his successor, Louis XIII., was too young to have one. So you see, if the people imitate princes now in cultivating moustaches, they imitated princes before in cutting them off.

R. And you may take my word for it, they will by-and-bye imitate somebody else in cutting them off again.

S. We shall see.

HEROIC FRIENDSHIP.

THE FRENCHMAN AND SPANIARD.

SOME years since, two sailors, one being a Spaniard and the other a Frenchman, were taken prisoners and condemned to slavery in Algiers. The Spaniard was called Antonio, and the Frenchman Roger. Being employed at the same work, they cultivated a friendship for each other, which proved their only consolation during their imprisonment. They sympathised with each other in their sufferings, communicated to each other their sorrows, and their hopes; they spoke of their birth-place, their families, their early companions, and their countries, and of the joy they would realise if restored to liberty. Each seemed to feel his hardships diminished by the mutual sympathy which softened their hearts, and the mutual aspirations which they cultivated; they were thus enabled to bear their chains with courage, and to sustain with fortitude the fatigues to which they were condemned.

They were employed in the formation of a road over a high country. On one occasion, when not urged on by the overseer, Antonio stopped, and resting on his spade, and casting a longing look towards the sea, said, 'My friend, all my wishes carry me to the other side of that sea. I fancy every hour that I see my wife and my children stretching out their arms for my reception from the shores of Cadiz, or shedding tears for my death. Why should destiny be so cruel, to keep a mighty sea between such loving hearts? Why were we born to be the sport of relentless fate?' 'Read you not in the Scriptures, Antonio,' said the Frenchman, that two women shall be working in the field, that one shall be taken and the other left. Why it is so, I cannot say; perhaps for some providential purpose shrouded in mystery. Let our patience be as enduring as our friendship is strong. Let us love each other, believe in God, and hope for a brighter future.' 'So be it,' answered the Spaniard. But he still cast his longing, lingering looks towards the wide expanse which separated him from his fatherland, bridged it over with the rainbow of hope, and wandered in imaginative sadness amid the home and haunts of his childhood.

'Hope springs eternal in the human breast;

Man never is but always to be blest?"

One day Antonio ran and embraced his comrade with transport, and said, 'A vessel a vessel! and it bears the flag of

Spain. Now, Roger, our hardships may be at an end; let us escape together.' But how?' The vessel,' continued Antonio, 'is but two leagues from the shore; we can follow yonder pathway, precipitate ourselves into the sea, and swim to the vessel, or perish in the attempt. Death is preferable to so cruel a bondage as this.' If you can flee and save yourself,' Roger, I will support, with more resignation, my unhappy lot, with the consciousness that you are free. You do not know, Antonio, how dear you are to me. The friendship I feel for you is as strong as my life, and can only cease with it. Fly, and when you get from this unhappy land, do me one favour; seek out my mother, if grief for me has not already laid her in the tomb, and tell her that I live; and if we do not see each other again on earth, the good God will permit us to meet in heaven.' 'What, Roger,' said Antonio, 'do you think I can leave you in irons, and be free myself? Never! my days are thine, and my strength is thine, we will both escape or perish together." 'But you know, Antonio, that I cannot swim.' 'But I can, and you can take hold of my belt; and your love for me will give me strength to sustain us both.' It is vain, yea, madness, Antonio, to think of it. I should either lose my hold or drag thee with me to the bottom. I will never consent to peril thy life; the very idea fills me with horror. Save thyself, I conjure thee, Antonio, and make haste, for there is not a moment to lose. Adieu, adieu, I embrace thee for the last time.' With these words he fell into the arms of Antonio. Why, you weep, Roger; it is not tears that are wanting, but courage. Resist no longer. If we delay only a few moments, all may be lost. The opportunity may never occur again.'

Antonio hurried the Frenchman against his will along with him, and they both leaped together into the sea. Roger would even then have abandoned all hope of escape for the sake of his friend, and it was with the utmost difficulty Antonio prevailed on him to hold by his belt. The Spaniard felt all the force of that sentiment of disinterestedness which actuated his friend, and fearful lest he should give way to it and quit his hold, he kept his eye constantly fixed on him, while with an heroic heart and strong arm, he pushed towards the vessel.

The sailors on board the ship had observed the bold action of the two men, and while occupied with conjectures concerning it, a new object of attention presented itself. They perceived a boat hastily quitting the shore, which contained some of the soldiers who were placed as a guard over the slaves,