An essay might be written on the fact that there was such a wig-wearing age in Europe, nearly the same in range of time in every country of that continent; in which essay it might be plausibly argued that there was an inherent congruity between the strange wig-wearing habit and the intellectual and spiritual characteristics, and consequently the literary capabilities and products, of the age distinguished by the habit. One can hardly conceive Addison or Dr. Johnson, for example, without a wig, or Wordsworth, or Byron, or Sir Walter Scott, with one. Be that as it may,—and there are curious intricacies in the speculation,—Allan Ramsay not only belonged to the wig-wearing age in Scotland, but was brought up to the business of wig-making and wig-dressing for the Edinburgh lieges. It was no bad employment in a population of between 30,000 and 40,000 inhabitants, including resident noblemen and lairds, and a good many professional men and merchants, all of whom wore wigs, and liked them to be handsome. Accordingly, when, in or about the year 1708, or just after the Union, young Ramsay, having concluded his apprenticeship, started in business for himself, in some shop in the High Street, or one of its offshoots, his prospects were fair enough. Skipping four years, and coming to the year 1712, when he was twenty-five years of age, we find him just married to the daughter of a respectable Edinburgh lawyer, and in very comfortable circumstances otherwise. It was then that he was beginning to be known in the cosy society of old Edinburgh as not only an expert wig-maker but also something besides. “Whenever fame, with voice of thunder, Sets up a chield a warld’s wonder, Either for slashing folk to dead, Or having wind-mills in his head, Or poet, or an airy beau, Or ony twa-legged rary-show, They wha have never seen’t are busy To speer what-like a carlie is he.” The words are Ramsay’s own, by way of preface in one of his poems to an account of his personal appearance and general character. The description, though not written till 1719, will do very well for 1712:— “_Imprimis_, then, for tallness, I Am five feet and four inches high; A black-a-viced, snod, dapper, fallow, Nor lean nor overlaid with tallow; With phiz of a Morocco cut, Resembling a late man of wit, Auld-gabbit Spec., wha was sae cunning To be a dummie ten years running. Then, for the fabric of my mind, ’Tis mair to mirth than grief inclined: I rather choose to laugh at folly Than show dislike by melancholy, Well judging a sour heavy face Is not the truest mark of grace.” Elsewhere, more briefly, he describes himself as