one occasion Lord Bolingbroke was sent for in haste by Queen Anne about some pressing public business. Aware of its importance, he hurried to her presence without taking time to change his wig, which was a "tie," and not a "full-bottomed" one, as he should have worn on entering such august presence. The Queen noticed the neglect, and after he was gone, pettishly exclaimed:—
"I suppose his lordship will come next time in his night-cap."
The trade of the perruquier in those days was by odds the most important of the cosmetic callings. These old-fashioned wigs are still retained in England by judges on the bench, and, singularly enough, by the liveried footmen of the wealthy. No one else dreams of wearing them.
The demand for hair now comes chiefly from the ladies, and the commodity is made up not so much in the shape of wigs, toupées, etc., as into braids, curls, chignons, etc. The London trade-reports, however, showed that during our civil war a brisk business was carried on in false whiskers and moustaches. It commenced at the beginning and dropped off at the end of our war. It puzzled the Londoners to account for this sudden and large demand, as well as for its equally sudden cessation when our armies were disbanded.
As, in following our destiny, it so happened that during most of the war we held a position in the army
