On a celebrated craniologist visiting the _studio_ of a celebrated
sculptor in London, his attention was drawn to a bust with a remarkable
depth of skull from the forehead to the occiput. "What a noble head,"
he exclaimed, "is that! full seven inches! What superior powers of mind
must he be endowed with, who possesses such a head as is here
represented!" "Why, yes," says the blunt artist, "he certainly was a
very extraordinary man--that is the bust of my early friend and first
patron, John Horne Tooke." "Ay," answers the craniologist, "you see
there is something after all in our science, notwithstanding the scoffs
of many of your countrymen." "Certainly," says the sculptor; "but here
is another bust, with a greater depth and a still more capacious
forehead." "Bless me!" exclaims the craniologist, taking out his rule,
"eight inches! who can this be? this is indeed a head--in this there
can be no mistake; what depth of intellect, what profundity of thought,
must reside in that skull! this I am sure must belong to some
extraordinary and well-known character." "Why, yes," says the sculptor,
"he is pretty well known--it is the head of Lord Pomfret."
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