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"This was not a very dignified situation for our venerable chair," continued Grandfather; "but, you know, there is no better place for news, than a barber’s shop. All the events of the revolutionary war were heard of there, sooner than anywhere else. People used to sit in the chair, reading the newspaper or talking, and waiting to be shaved, while Mr.
And, sometimes, a rosy little school-boy climbed into our chair, and sat staring, with wide-open eyes, at the alligator, the rattlesnake, and the other curiosities of the barber’s shop. His mother had sent him, with sixpence in his hand, to get his glossy curls cropped off. The incidents of the Revolution plentifully supplied the barber’s customers with topics of conversation.
‘Where have you been a having half a pint of intermediate beer?’ cried a second. ‘Tailor!’ screamed a third. ‘Barber’s clerk!’ shouted a fourth. ‘Throw him O—VER!’ roared a fifth; while numerous voices concurred in desiring Mr. Thomas Potter to ‘go home to his mother!’ All these taunts Mr.
"He had long been in the habit of visiting the barber’s shop, where our venerable chair, philosophically forgetful of its former dignities, had now spent nearly eighteen not uncomfortable years. Such a remarkable piece of furniture, so evidently a relic of long-departed times, could not escape the notice of Samuel Adams.
Mr. Carew enjoyed himself very contentedly at the collector’s house for several hours, both eating and drinking of the best, as he knew Frampton was at too great a distance for him to return presently; but he prudently weighed his anchor when he thought the collector might be on his return, and steered his course towards Weymouth, where he made his application to the collector, and after being handsomely treated, and a present given to him, sent the officers to Squire Groves’s, near White-street, and Squire Barber’s, on the Chase, both in Wiltshire.
Carew then made a shift, notwithstanding his dying condition, to reach the city of Bristol; and being now freed from his apprehensions of being pressed, at the first barber’s he came to he got rid of his beard, and bid adieu to the small-pox; he then made the best of his way to the mendicants’ hall, on Mile-hill.
In the interior was displayed a stuffed alligator, a rattlesnake’s skin, a bundle of Indian arrows, an old-fashioned matchlock gun, a walking-stick of Governor Winthrop’s, a wig of old Cotton Mather’s, and a colored print of the Boston Massacre. In short, it was a barber’s shop, kept by a Mr. Pierce, who prided himself on having shaved General Washington, Old Put, and many other famous persons.
The first house he went to was a barber’s, of whose assistance he had indeed need enough, not having shaved his beard since he left the ship: here he told a moving story, saying his name was John Elworth, of Bristol; that he had been artfully kidnapped by one Samuel Ball, of the same place, and gone through great hardships in making his escape.
Five minutes later she would be hanging out of the window, flirting with the barber’s boy across the street. “I am an unfortunate father,” said Andreas Döderlein to himself, when, apart from all his other multifarious worries, he began to be sceptical about Dorothea’s artistic ability. Shortly after her success in Nuremberg, she gave a concert in Frankfort, but everything was pretty quiet.
I will leave you to speak for yourself, and meanwhile will go and see what old Dromo has to tell, before the sun is too high in the heavens.” Saying this, with a half-imploring, half-satirical look at his sister, he set off to the barber’s at the Forum. Agellius took up the flowers, and laid them on the table before her, as she sat at work. “Do you accept my flowers, Callista?” he asked.
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