eccentric, after all greatly resembles our own. The poor people, however, whom we accuse of being deficient in delicacy, would not permit those "artists in hair" to glide into houses, for the purpose of executing diplomatic missions, which French Figaros eagerly undertake. The barbers never approach the interior apartments, and the women have their hair dressed by their female servants, their mothers, their sisters, and friends of their own sex. In acting thus, I think this people give us a lesson of propriety and good taste. The Chinese, by employing barbers to take care of their nails, have been scientifically logical. The man who cuts the hair ought necessarily to devote his attention to all the horny expansions of the body, and tend even the eyes; for, if you ask naturalists of the school of M. de Blainville, you will learn that the nails are agglomerated hair, and that even an eye is nothing more than a pilous organ, greatly expanded.
There is still another point of resemblance existing between French and Chinese barbers: the latter are perruquiers as well. When the queue has undergone the irreparable injuries of time, the barber steps in, and fits an artificial prolongation to the rare white hairs time has not shaved off. Moreover, in this nation of extra-oriental civilisation, these petulant and babbling artists occupy a position analogous to that which they hold among ourselves; they are ranked a little above servants.
