Shall we be destined to the days of eternity, on holy-days, as well as working-days, to be shewing the _relicks of learning_, as monks do the relicks of their saints--without working one--one single miracle with them? Who made Man, with powers which dart him from earth to heaven in a moment--that great, that most excellent, and most noble creature of the world--the _miracle_ of nature, as Zoroaster in his book περι φύσεως called him--the SHEKINAH of the divine presence, as Chrysostom----the _image_ of God, as Moses----the _ray_ of divinity, as Plato--the _marvel_ of _marvels_, as Aristotle--to go sneaking on at this pitiful--pimping--pettifogging rate? I scorn to be as abusive as Horace upon the occasion------but if there is no catachresis in the wish, and no sin in it, I wish from my soul, that every imitator in _Great Britain_, _France_, and _Ireland_, had the farcy for his pains; and that there was a good farcical house, large enough to hold--aye--and sublimate them, _shag rag and bob-tail_, male and female, all together: and this leads me to the affair of _Whiskers_----but, by what chain of ideas --I leave as a legacy in _mort-main_ to Prudes and Tartufs, to enjoy and make the most of. UPON WHISKERS I’m sorry I made it----’twas as inconsiderate a promise as ever entered a man’s head ----A chapter upon whiskers! alas! the world will not bear it--’tis a delicate world----but I knew not of what mettle it was made--nor had I ever seen the underwritten fragment; otherwise, as surely as noses are noses, and whiskers are whiskers still (let the world say what it will to the contrary); so surely would I have steered clear of this dangerous chapter. THE FRAGMENT * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ------You are half asleep, my good lady, said the old gentleman, taking hold of the old lady’s hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze, as he pronounced the word _Whiskers_----shall we change the subject? By no means, replied the old lady --I like your account of those matters; so throwing a thin gauze handkerchief over her head, and leaning it back upon the chair with her face turned towards him, and advancing her two feet as she reclined herself ----I desire, continued she, you will go on. The old gentleman went on as follows: ------Whiskers! cried the queen of _Navarre_, dropping her knotting ball, as _La Fosseuse_ uttered the word ----Whiskers, madam, said _La Fosseuse_, pinning the ball to the queen’s apron, and making a courtesy as she repeated it.