CHAPTER XLIII.
very charming.
"So you are a philanthropist, sir," added the barber
with an illuminated look; "that accounts, then, for all. Very odd sort of man the philanthropist. You are the
second one, sir, I have seen. Very odd sort of man,
indeed, the philanthropist. Ah, sir," again meditatively
stirring in the shaving-cup, "I sadly fear, lest you
philanthropists know better what goodness is, than
what men are." Then, eying him as if he were some
strange creature behind cage-bars, "So you are a philanthropist, sir."
"I am Philanthropos, and love mankind. And, what is more than you do, barber, I trust them."
Here the barber, casually recalled to his business, would have replenished his shaving-cup, but finding now that on his last visit to the water-vessel he had not replaced it over the lamp, he did so now; and, while waiting for it to heat again, became almost as sociable as if the heating water were meant for whisky-punch; and almost as pleasantly garrulous as the pleasant barbers in romances.
"Sir," said he, taking a throne beside his customer
