genuine Parisian accent, and the proprietor of the establishment may have at once discerned that he was an insular personage who was not conversant with the language of grace and civilisation; for, he replied, in the very best English that he could produce for the occasion, "De har? var goot!" Then he tucked him up in a wrapper, and, as he briskly combed out his hair, said, "From de contree? ha, ha! jusso!" Mr. Bouncer felt inclined to further air his little stock of French by answering, "We, Mossoo!" but he timely reflected that this display of knowledge might plunge him into colloquial difficulties out of which the mossoo would alone rise triumphant; and, therefore, as he felt that he would be unable to frame a reply to further remarks, he thought it best to grunt out a monosyllabic "Yes!" and to wonder within himself—whatever will the Mossoo think of Mr. Quickfall's haircutting?
Mossoo had relapsed into silence, and, perhaps as a token that he had no desire to force his customer into an unwished-for conversation, had politely placed in his hands a newspaper, wherewith he might beguile himself during the tedium of the haircutting. It was a copy of the "Journal des Débats" and, to Mr. Bouncer, it might as well have been a page of Chinese, or a sheet of cuneiform inscriptions.
If, before entering the shop, he could but have glanced at a book of French and English conversation, he might, by its aid, have been able to say to the hairdresser, with an approximate imitation of his own language—
"I wish my hair cut. I wish it cut short. I wish it cut not too short. I wish it left long behind. I wish it left short behind. I wish the curls over the ears to be preserved. I wish it to be parted on the left side. I wish it to be parted
