As will be seen, they wore powder, but this curious fashion was on its last legs—the _Crops_, or advanced Whigs, having given it its death blow; still, it struggled on for some years yet. There is a little story told in the _Morning Herald_ of the 20th of June, 1804, which will bear reproduction: “The following conversation occurred on Monday last, in the Gallery of the House of Commons. A gentleman, very much powdered, happened to sit before another who did not wear any. During the course of the debate the son of _powder_ in front, frequently annoyed, by his nodding, or rather his _noddle_, his neighbour in the rear, for which he apologized, as often as any notice was taken of it. At last, the influence of Morpheus became so powerful, that the rear rank man found his arm perfectly painted with _powder_, in such a manner as to produce some _ignition_ in his temper, and repel his annoyer with a little more _spunk_[47] than he showed on any of the former occasions. This being resented, the other presented his arm, and said, ‘Sir, you should not be angry; for, if I wished for such an ornament as this, I should, this morning, have left that office to my hair-dresser. I am a man of such independence that I would not, willingly, be indebted to you for a single _meal_, and here you have forced on me a bushel. If I had been your greatest enemy, you could do nothing more severe, than to _pulverize_ me; and, as I have given you no intentional offence, I must beg of you, in future, not to _dust my jacket_.’ This sally had all the effect for which it was intended, and, instead of exchanging cards, the affair ended, like some senatorial speeches, in a _laugh_.” As all the members of the family, including the domestics had to be powdered, most houses of any pretension had a small room set apart for the performance, called “the powdering room,” or closet, where the person to be operated upon went behind two curtains, and, by putting the head between the two, the body was screened from the powder, and the head received its due quantity, without injury to the clothes. Still, all the world was not rich, and, therefore, with some, economy in clothing was a necessity. As is usual, when a want appears, it is met; and in this case it certainly was, in a (to us) novel manner—_Morning Post_ January 12, 1805: “INTERESTING to the PUBLIC. W Welsford, Tailor, No. 142, Bishopsgate Street, respectfully informs the Public, that he continues to pursue the plan, originally adopted by him, six years since, of SUPPLYING CLOTHES, on the following terms:— Four Suits of Superfine Clothes, the old Suits to be returned, in one year £16 0 0 Five Suits 18 18 0 Six Suits 21 10 0 “Those Gentlemen who should not prefer the above Contract, may be supplied at the undermentioned reduced price: