Liverpool a few years since: by an old stagerAspinall, James
History
Liverpool a few years since: by an old stager
Aspinall, James
Liverpool (England) -- Biography; Liverpool (England) -- History
Those of the soldiers were somewhat less in magnitude, but still enormous
in their proportions. And quiet citizens wore jauntily one little dainty
lock, tied up neatly with black ribbon, and just showing itself over the
coat collar. It was a strange practice, but custom renders us familiar
with everything. At last, however, Fashion, in one of her capricious
moods, issued her fiat, and _pigtails_ were _curtailed_. But some few
old stagers, lovers of things as they were, and the enemies of all
innovation, saw revolution in the doom of pigtails, and persevered in
wearing them long after they had generally disappeared. The pigtail
finally seen in society in Liverpool dangled on the back of —; but, no,
no! never mind his name. He still toddles about on ’Change, and might
not like to be joked about it, even at this distance of time. Its fate
was curious. Through evil report and good report he had stood by that
pigtail as part and parcel of the British Constitution, the very
Palladium of Magna Charta, Habeas Corpus, and the Bill of Rights. But
the time for a new edition of _The Rape of the Lock_ arrived. He dined
one day with a party of gay fellows like himself. The bottle went freely
round, until, under its influence, our unlucky friend fell fast asleep.
The opportunity was seized upon. After some hours’ refreshing slumber he
awoke, and found himself alone. On the table before him was a neat
little parcel, directed to him, made up in silvery paper, and tied with a
delicate blue ribbon. What could it be? He eagerly opened it, and
found, _Il Diavolo_! that it was his pigtail. “Achilles’ wrath,” as sung
by Homer, was nothing compared with the fury of the wretched man. He
stormed, he swore, he threatened, but he could never discover who had
been the operator who had so despoiled him, like another Samson, of his
pride. Let us hope that remorse has severely visited the guilty
criminal. Its work, however, must have been inwardly, for outwardly he
is a hale, hearty, cheerful-looking old man, who still carries himself
among his brother merchants as if he had never perpetrated such an
enormous atrocity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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