If he wears a wig,
his expenditure with his _peruquier_ is never less than five-and-twenty
guineas a-year. His cigars, though he smokes little, cost him nearly as
much. His hat is water-proof; his stop-watch and repeater are of a
scapement that never varies more than six seconds in the twelve months
from the time-piece at the Observatory at Greenwich, where he has a friend,
who is so good as sometimes to compare notes with him. By the advice of
his boot-maker--who, by the way, has some knowledge of the length of his
foot--he never puts on a new pair until they are at least a year old; and
he parted with his last footboy because he one day discovered a
perceptible difference between the polish of the right and left foot. In
winter, he wears and recommends cork soles. His toilet is no sinecure; and
on the table are always to be found, besides his dressing-box, which
contains an assortment of combs, scissors, tweezers, pomades, and essences,
not easily equalled, a bottle of "Eau de Cologne, veritable," a Packwood
and Criterion strop; a case of gold-mounted razors, (the best in England,)
which he bought, nearly thirty years ago, of the successor of "Warren," in
the Strand, and a silvered shaving-pot, upon a principle of his own,
redolent of Rigges' "patent violet-scented soap." His net-silk purse is
ringed with gold at one end, and with silver at the other; and although
not _much_ of a snuff-taker, he always carries a box, on the lid of which
smiles the portrait of the once celebrated and beautiful, though now
somewhat forgotten, Duchess of D----, or the equally resplendent Lady
Emily M----.
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