the National Gallery, are instances of this; such was the fashion of the Italian ladies of the fifteenth century, and was esteemed a great beauty. The eyebrows were carefully reduced in substance to a mere line, till scarcely visible. A lady, whose lover had an unconquerable aversion to red hair, once made application to a noted quack, who, politely answered:--“This is no business of mine, but my wife’s, who’ll soon redress your grievances, and furnish you with a leaden comb and my _Anti-Erythrœan Unguent_, which after two or three applications will make you as fair or as brown as you desire.” We hope, for the ladies sake, it turned out to be the true _Elisir d’amore_. A Mr. Michon, a goldsmith, in 1710, advertised a clear fluid, which would change red or grey hair to brown or black, under the name of “The Tricosian Fluid.” The remarkable success which attended the use of the _Cyananthropopoion_, patronized by Titmouse Tittlebat, is known to all readers of “Ten Thousand a Year.” It would, however, say but little for the progress of chemistry in our day, if we were unprovided with some efficient means of dyeing the hair; in competent hands, no doubt, the thing is easy enough. The old-fashioned dyes are now perfectly useless, and may safely be consigned to the same limbo with Peter Pindar’s razors: “Sir,” quoth the razor man, “I’m not a knave; As for the razors you have bought,-- Upon my soul, I never thought That they _would_ shave.” “Not shave” cries Hodge, with wondering, staring eyes, And voice not much unlike an Indian yell-- “What were they made for, then, you knave?” he cries. “Made,” quoth the fellow, with a smile, “_to sell_.”