see you.” The barrister had to obtain the loan of a wig from a learned friend before the judge would listen to him.

Lord Eldon suffered much from headache, and when he was raised to the peerage he petitioned the King to allow him to dispense with the wig. He was refused; his Majesty saying he could not permit such an innovation. In vain did his Lordship show that the wig was an innovation, as the old judges did not wear them. “True,” said the King; “the old judges wore beards.”

In more recent times we have particulars of several instances of both bench and bar discarding the use of the wig. At the Summer Assizes at Lancaster, in 1819, a barrister named Mr. Scarlett hurried into court, and was permitted to take part in a trial without his wig and gown. Next day the whole of the members of the bar appeared without their professional badges, but only on this occasion, although on the previous day a hope had been expressed that the time was not far distant when the mummeries of costume would be entirely discarded.

We learn from a report in the Times of July 24th, 1868, that on account of the unprecedented heat of the weather on the day before in the Court of Probate and Divorce the learned judge and bar appeared without wigs.

On July 22nd, 1874, it is recorded that Dr. Kenealy rose to open the case for the defence in the Tichborne suit; he sought and obtained permission, to remove his wig on account of the excessive heat.

Towards the close of the last century few were the young men at the Universities who ventured to wear their own hair, and such as did were designated Apollos.

Women, as well as men, called into requisition, to add to their charms, artificial accessories in the form of wigs and curls. Ladies’ hair was curled and frizzed with considerable care, and frequently false curls were worn under the name of heart-breakers. It will be seen from the illustration we give that these curls increased the beauty of a pretty face.

HEART-BREAKERS.

Queen Elizabeth, we gather from Hentzner and other authorities, wore false hair. We are told that ladies, in compliment to her, dyed their hair a sandy hue, the natural colour of the Queen’s locks.

A BARBER’S SHOP IN THE TIME OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

We present a picture of a barber’s shop in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. It looks more like the home of a magician than the workshop of a hairdresser, although we see the barber thoughtfully employed on a wig. The barber at this period was an important man. A few of his duties consisted in dressing wigs, using the razor, cutting hair, starching beards, curling moustachios, tying up love-locks, dressing sword-wounds received in street frays, and the last, and by no means the least, of his varied functions was that of receiver and circulator of news and scandal.

It is recorded that Mary Queen of Scots obtained wigs from Edinburgh not merely while in Scotland, but during her long and weary captivity in England. From “The True Report of the Last Moments of Mary Stuart,” it appears, when the executioner lifted the head by the hair to show it to the spectators, it fell from his hands owing to the hair being false.

We have previously mentioned Pepys’ allusions to women and wigs in 1666. Coming down to later times, we read in the Whitehall Evening Post of August 17th, 1727, that when the King, George II., reviewed the Guards, the three eldest Princesses “went to Richmond in riding habits, with hats, and feathers, and periwigs.”

It will be seen from the picture of a person with and without a wig that its use made a plain face presentable. There is a good election story of Daniel O’Connell. It is related during a fierce debate on the hustings, O’Connell with his biting, witty tongue attacked his opponent on account of his ill-favoured countenance. But, not to be outdone, and thinking to turn the gathering against O’Connell, his adversary called out, “Take off your wig, and I’ll warrant that you’ll prove the uglier.” The witty Irishman immediately responded, amidst roars of laughter from the crowd, by snatching the wig from off his own head and exposing to view a bald plate, destitute of a single hair. The relative question of beauty was scarcely settled by this amusing rejoinder, but the laugh was certainly on O’Connell’s side.

WITH AND WITHOUT A WIG.

An interesting tale is told of Peter the Great of Russia. In the year 1716, the famous Emperor was at Dantzig, taking part in a public ceremony, and feeling his head somewhat cold, he stretched out his hand, and seizing the wig from the head of the burgomaster sitting below him, he placed it on his own regal head. The surprise of the spectators may be better imagined than described. On the Czar returning the wig, his attendants explained that his Majesty was in the habit of borrowing the wig of any nobleman within reach on similar occasions. His Majesty, it may be added, was short of hair.

STEALING A WIG.

In the palmy days of wigs the price of a full wig of an English gentleman was from thirty to forty guineas. Street quarrels in the olden time were by no means uncommon; care had to be exercised that wigs were not lost. Says Swift:—

“Triumphing Tories and desponding Whigs,
Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.”

Although precautions were taken to prevent wigs being stolen, we are told that robberies were frequently committed. Sam Rogers thus describes a successful mode of operation: “A boy was carried covered over in a butcher’s tray by a tall man, and the wig was twisted off in a moment by the boy. The bewildered owner looked all around for it, when an accomplice impeded his progress under the pretence of assisting him while the tray-bearer made off.”

Gay, in his “Trivia,” thus writes:—

“Nor is the flaxen wig with safety worn:
High on the shoulders in a basket borne
Lurks the sly boy, whose hand, to rapine bred,
Plucks off the curling honours of thy head.”

We will bring our gossip about wigs to a close with an account of the Peruke Riot. On February 11th, 1765, a curious spectacle was witnessed in the streets of London, and one that caused some amusement. Fashion had changed; the peruke was no longer in favour, and only worn to a limited extent. A large number of peruke-makers were thrown out of employment, and distress prevailed amongst them. The sufferers thought that help might be obtained from George III., and a petition was accordingly drawn up for the enforcement of gentlefolk wearing wigs for the benefit of the wig-makers. A procession was formed, and waited upon the King at St. James’s Palace. His Majesty, we are told, returned a gracious answer, but it must have cost him considerable effort