“Yes, sir, I believe I may say, without vanity,” observed the loquacious Frankenstein of 1851, “that I have been long celebrated for the make of my legs. It is universally allowed that there are not such legs as mine in all Europe, sir. A lady of quality had one of my legs—the right leg it was—and she danced the polka in it as well as ever she could have done it with her own, sir.” Major Oldschool threw up his eyebrows with astonishment, while he smiled with delight. “I can assure you, sir,” continued the man, rubbing his hands as if he were washing them in phantom soap and water, “you will find my knees not at all stiff nor shaky; not like the cheap slop articles, that—if you will permit me to say so—are very much in the hackney-coach-horse style. Then, doubtlessly, you may have heard of the superior quality of my arms and hands, sir. Only the other day I sent home an arm to a general officer, with a dessert service fitted up inside, knife and fork, table-spoon, tea-spoon, meerschaum pipe, cork-screw, and boot-hooks, and the fingers made to take a pinch of snuff positively with an air of grace, sir—an air of grace, I may say, sir.” Major Oldschool was too glad to listen, and therefore refrained from saying a word that might interrupt the strain of the tradesman’s boastings. “Then again,” resumed the man, “there are my eyes, sir, which I will challenge the whole world to equal. I will put my eyes against theirs for any sum they please, let them be black, blue, grey, or hazel, sir. Perhaps you may have noticed my eyes in the shop window, sir. I have _one_—a black one, sir—that obtained me the prize from the Society of Arts last year, sir. I don’t think, sir, you could go into any fashionable church or chapel without their being either one or two of my eyes in the place. I serve all the first people, I can assure you, sir. Then I have a charitable society in connexion with my establishment, for the gratuitous distribution of eyes to the poor, and a very great relief it is to them, sir. To servants they are a real blessing—for mistresses object to one-eyed nurses, or lady’s-maids, or cooks, you know, sir—so I let those kind of people have my eyes at what they cost me, and they are very thankful for them, indeed, sir. I should think I have got at least a hundred eyes in place at the present time, sir.” “Bless me! bless me!” cried the Major; “I had no idea that art was carried to such perfection;—but we live in wonderful times.”