Jasmin, the French poet of Agen, rose from extreme poverty to comfort and independence as a barber, and acquired a well-earned reputation by his pleasant verses “Les Papillotes,” and the Poem “L’Aveugle de Castel Cuillé.” Allan Ramsey must be numbered with the barber poets; and literature is indebted to Winstanley, a barber of the time of Charles II., for his “Lives of the English Poets.” These, however, have earned other titles than those conferred by their original calling; there are others, whose sole claim to notice is their professional reputation. Among the most noted barbers of their day we may mention “the gentleman barber” to the Earl of Pembroke, who built a large house with tennis-courts and bowling-green, nick-named Shaver’s Hall, the resort of the gayest of the nobility, where many a fortune was lost and won; and Farr who opened the well-known coffee-house, “The Rainbow,” in Fleet Street, hard by Temple Bar. Lillie who had a shop at the corner of Beaufort Buildings, in the Strand, whose fame is preserved in the pages of the Tatler and Spectator. Honest Bat Pigeon, of whom Steele and Addison make honourable mention. Gregory, the famous peruke-maker, from whom the wig called a “Gregorian” took its name, and who lies buried in the church of St. Clement Danes, with an epitaph in rhyme, writ, says Aubrey, by a Baron of the Exchequer. Shammeree, the fashionable wig-maker of the reign of William III.; and Stewart, the author of the “The Noble Art of Hair-dressing.” Amid minor celebrities, Don Saltero occupies a conspicuous place--he opened his museum-coffee-house, in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, in 1695. Sir Hans Sloane supplied him with many curiosities for his museum. His own name was James Salters. He claimed to have some skill on the fiddle, could draw a tooth, made most excellent punch, and was esteemed a virtuoso and a wit. He includes himself among the oddities at the Chelsea Knackatory, with much complacency, in the following verses: Through various employs I’ve past-- A scraper, virtuos’ projector, Tooth-drawer, trimmer, and at last I’m now a gim-crack-whim collector; Monsters of all sorts here are seen, Strange things in nature as they grew so: Some relics of the Sheba Queen, And fragments of the fam’d Bob Crusoe; Knick-knacks, too, dangle round the wall, Some in glass cases, some on shelf; But, what’s the rarest sight of all, Your humble servant shows himself-- On this my chiefest hope depends. Now, if you will my cause espouse, In Journals pray direct your friends To my Museum-Coffee-house; And in requital for the timely favour, I’ll gratis bleed, draw teeth, and be your shaver. Steele, alluding to Don Saltero, asks, “why must a barber be for ever a politician, a musician, an anatomist, a poet, and a physician?” He was evidently puzzled to account for the varied talents of the brotherhood.