DEAR PUNCHINELLO:--The last time I visited a barber's shop I wanted my
hair trimmed. Being in somewhat of a hurry for the train, I told the
proprietor to cut it short. As a matter of course, I was left. As for my
hair, there was precious little of that left, though. Science was too
much for it. A hand-glass, brought to bear upon a mirror, opened up a
perspective of pretty much all the back country belonging to my skull,
that is seldom equalled outside the State Prison or the Prize Ring.
I was indignant. I was so mad that my hair stood on end--voluntarily.
The barber talked soothingly of making a discount on the bill; and I,
looking at it in a strictly diplomatic light, gradually permitted myself
to grow calmer. He went further, and did the handsome thing by me--as if
it wasn't enough to cut under his price! A phrenologist by profession,
so he said, he had resorted to barbering simply for amusement, and under
the circumstances he would give me a professional sitting gratuitously.
It has always been a cherished ambition with me to have my head surveyed
and staked out scientifically; SO I told him at once he might take it
and look it over.
"My friend," said I, as I gracefully described an imaginary aureole
about my brain factory, "you abolish the poll-tax. I grant you full
leave to explore."
This was the first time I ever had my head examined. The whole of me, it
is true, was once examined before a Trial Justice; but as that was years
ago, and it was "the other boy" that was to blame, I refrain from
incorporating the details into the history of our country.
It occurred to me that old Scissors couldn't have been much of a
scholar; at all events he breathed very hard for an educated man, and he
had a rough, muscular way of moving his fingers about my upper story,
that made those regions ache every time he touched them. You may fancy
my feelings. I certainly didn't fancy _his_.
For the benefit of those who come after us, (I don't refer to Sheriffs
and Constables, so much as I do to posterity,) I append a few results of
the gentleman's vigorous researches.
* * *
"There's a great deal of surface here; in fact, everybody that is
acquainted with this head must be struck at once with its superficial
contents."
"Thickness--obvious. Great breadth between the ears, indicating
longevity. You will never die of teething, or cholera infantum; nor is
it likely you will ever become a murderess.
"Forehead, large and imposing; that is, it might impose on people who
don't know you.
"Your intellect may be pronounced massive, dropsical, in fact. You have
brilliant talents, but your bump of cash payments is remarkably small.
"Locality, 20 to 30. You are always somewhere, or just going there.
Eventuality, 18 carat fine; absorption, 99 per cent. This means you will
eventually absorb a good deal of borrowed money.
"I find here acquisitiveness and secretiveness enough to stock an entire
Board of Aldermen and a Congressional Committee."
"Ambition, combativeness, and destructiveness are all on a colossal
scale. Happily they are balanced by gigantic caution, else you would be
in imminent danger of subverting the liberties of your country.
"If I owned that sanguine temperament of yours, I should proceed at once
to marry into President GRANT'S family, and take some foreign mission.
"You're a good feeder. Alimentiveness and order well developed. No man
better fitted to order a waiter around. From the immature condition of
your organ of benevolence, I shouldn't care, however, to be the waiter.
"Self esteem doesn't seem to have been kept back by the drought.
"Ideality, I discover from the depression in the S. W. corner, is
missing. Nature beautifully compensates this loss by making language
very full--more words than ideas. In profane language, I dare say, now,
you are particularly gifted.
"In one respect your head resembles that of the Father of His Country.
It lacks adhesiveness. So does GEORGE'S--on the postage stamps.
"Unlike most subjects, your organ of firmness is not confined to any one
spot, but is spread over the entire skull. This phenomenon is due to
your being what we technically call 'mule-headed'--a fine specimen
which--"
"Excuse me," said I, unwilling any longer to impose on his good nature,
"I feel I must make sure of that other train, so I will just trouble you
for that organ of firmness and the rest of them. I never travel without
them." Then, hurrying all my phrenology into my hat, I started down the
street.
I wonder he didn't say something about my memory's being below
par--somehow I quite forgot to pay him for shaving me.
Yours, without recourse,