- legged libel on the image of God! Look at
the waxwork head—the face, with the expression of a melon—the projecting ears—the knotted elbows—the dished breast—the knife-edged shins—and then the feet, all beads and joints and bonesprays, an imitation X-ray photograph! There is nothing imperial about this, nothing imposing, impressive, nothing to invoke awe and reverence. Is it this that a hundred and forty million Russians kiss the dust before and worship? Manifestly not! No one could worship this spectacle, which is Me. Then who is it, what is it, that they worship? Privately, none knows better than I: it is my clothes. Without my clothes I should be as destitute of authority as any other naked person. Nobody could tell me from a parson, a barber, a dude. Then who is the real Emperor of Russia? My clothes. There is no other. (Text.)
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See Dress Affecting Moods.
APPAREL IN FORMER TIMES
When Governor Bowdoin, a tall, dignified
man, reviewed the troops assembled at Cambridge,
in 1785, he was drest in a gray wig,
cocked hat, a white broadcloth coat and
waistcoat, red small-clothes, and black silk
stockings. John Hancock, thin in person, six
feet in stature, was very fond of ornamental
dress. He wore a wig when abroad, and a
cap when at home. A gentleman who visited
Hancock one day at noon, in June, 1782, describes
him as drest in a red velvet cap lined
with fine white linen, which was turned up
two or three inches over the lower edge of
the velvet. He also wore a blue damask
gown lined with silk; a white stock, a white
satin embroidered waistcoat, black satin
small-clothes, white silk stockings, and red
morocco slippers. Washington, at his receptions
in Philadelphia, was drest in black
velvet; his hair was powdered and gathered
behind in a large silk bag. His hands were
encased in yellow gloves; he held a cocked
hat with a cockade on it, and its edges
adorned with a black feather. He wore knee
and shoe buckles, and at his left hip appeared
a long sword in a polished white
leather scabbard, with a polished steel hilt.
Chief-Justice Dana, of Massachusetts, used
to wear in winter a white corduroy surtout,
lined with fur, and held his hands in a large
muff. The judges of the Supreme Court of
Massachusetts wore, till 1793, robes of scarlet,
faced with black velvet, in winter, and
black silk gowns in summer. At the beginning
of this century powder for the hair
became unfashionable, tying up the hair was
abandoned, colored garments went out of
use, buckles disappeared, and knee-breeches
gave place to trousers.—Youth's Companion.
114
See Judging from Facts.
APPEAL, A LIVING
Dr. Bernardo, of London, the great
philanthropist, was standing at his front
door one bitter day, when a ragged urchin
came up to him and asked to be admitted
to the Orphans' Home. "How do I know
what you tell me is true? Have you any
friends to speak for you?" asked Dr. Bernardo,
assuming a tone of severity.
"Friends!" echoed the little fellow—"friends!
No, I ain't got no friends. But
if these ere rags," holding up his tattered
garments, "if these ere rags won't speak
for me, nothing else will." (Text.)
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Appeal Wasted—See Omniscience.
APPEARANCE
The Late Charles P. Thompson, of the Massachusetts Supreme Court, at one time in his practise had a client named Michael Dougherty, who had been arrested for the illegal sale of liquor, but the police had no evidence except one pint of whisky, which they found in his alleged kitchen barroom. The Boston Herald, in relating this story, says:
In the superior court this evidence was
produced and a somewhat vivid claim made
of prima facie evidence of guilt by the prosecuting
attorney. During all this time Mr.
Thompson was silent. When his turn came
for the defense he arose and said:
"Michael Dougherty, take the stand."
And Mike, with big red nose, unshaven face, bleared eyes, and a general appearance of dilapidation and dejection, took the stand.
"Michael Dougherty, look upon the jury. Gentlemen of the jury, look on Michael Dougherty," said Mr. Thompson. All complied. Mr. Thompson himself silently and steadily gazing at Mike for a moment, slowly and with solemnity turned to the jury and said: "Gentlemen of the jury, do you mean to say to this court and to me that you honestly and truly believe that Michael Dougherty, if he had a pint of whisky, would sell it?"
It is needless to say Mike was acquitted. (Text.)
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