The following morning broke fine but frosty, and the members of the club
being up sufficiently early for that time of the year, they all agreed
to take a long stroll before breakfast in the adjacent wood. Indeed, the
members of our club lived so thoroughly in an atmosphere of punch and
tobacco-smoke that an outing every now and then was requisite in order
to air their brains. They strolled out, accordingly, by twos and threes, passing over fields
glittering with hoar-frost, until they came to a stile, which having
crossed over, they found themselves immediately in a wood. It was a fine old place--that same ancient piece of woodland, where huge
oaks and beeches were interspersed with the fir, pine and birch. The
fantastic roots that shot out from the gnarled trunks of the majestic
oaks, like giants' limbs writhing in mortal agony, were coated here and
there in broad irregular patches of dank moss and variously-tinted
lichen. Their distorted colossal branches, stripped of their leaves
and silvered at their extremities with the hoar-frost, seemed struggling
to catch the first beams of a winter sun, while the shadowy outline of
the misty purple mass of distant trees brought out in bolder relief and
more vigorous hue the foreground thickly strewed with richly-tinted
leaves of russet, scarlet and orange. The dank fungus, luxuriant in its
foul growth, emerged from the velvet moss as if to outvie in glow the
variegated richness of the dried leaves of the forest. It was a scene to awaken the soul of a poet, to inspire a landscape
painter with increased love of his art; and as our two friends McGuilp
and Parnassus strolled arm-in-arm together through this region of
enchantment, leaving their footprints in the crisp frost, which they
traversed with the buoyant footsteps of youth, leaving the elder members
considerably in the rear, each felt himself drawn towards the other by a
bond of common sympathy. It is not necessary to record every expression
of enthusiasm that escaped the lips of our two friends, nor to follow
minutely the philosophic meditations of the more mature members of the
club who brought up the rear, as at every step the scene unfolded new
and fresh beauties to their view. Let it suffice our reader that their morning's walk proved highly
beneficial to them all, for they returned with marvellous appetites to
the inn, where a sumptuous breakfast of eggs and bacon, coffee, hot
rolls, etc., had just been spread for them by the fair hands of our
Helen, who waited to greet them on the doorstep. The usual merry bantering from each member of the club in turn
succeeded, as a matter of course, and was replied to on Helen's part by
a pretty rustic coyness or smart repartee. Our artist thought he had
never seen her look to such advantage as now, glowing in the full
morning light. He noticed, too, that she was more sprucely dressed than
usual. What could it mean? As he asked himself this question, the church
bells of the village began to chime. The mystery was out--it was Sunday,
and McGuilp's hopes of a sitting fell to the ground. "How say you--Sunday again?" exclaimed Mr. Oldstone, as he sat down to
his hot coffee. "Dear me! how the week has passed away!" Then passing
his hand over his chin, he said, "I omitted to shave this morning. My
hand shook so, owing to the stiffness of my night-cap last night before
I went to roost. It will not do to appear at church with a chin like
Hamlet's 'fretful porcupine,' and as I cannot shave myself, I must
inquire if there be not someone skilled in the noble science of
barber-craft in the village. How say you, Helen, my girl, know you not
some knight of the razor, some nimble and expert mower, who will rid me
of this crop without finding it necessary to combine the art of the
leech at the same time?" "Aye, sir," answered Helen; "there is young Master Suds, the village
barber, successor to Old Hackchin, whom folks say never was much
account. Young Suds is lately from France, where he has been improving
himself in his art. He has introduced into the village all sorts of new
modes for trimming the hair and wigs, with numerous other French
novelties. You would be sure to be pleased with him, sir." "Humph!" muttered Mr. Oldstone, who was much too old-fashioned an
English gentleman to be over partial to our friends across the channel. "I don't want my head frizzled, thank you, but a firm, steady, English
hand to shave me--a man that is not above his business, and who will not
bore me to death with his gossip." "Oh, as to that, sir," replied Helen, "it is part of a barber's
profession. Many folks think it a recommendation. I am sure our
villagers are delighted with his store of news." "No doubt, no doubt," said Oldstone, testily. "He had better cut it
short, though, with me. However, send for this young blade, and tell him
I wish to see a sample of his art. I shall be ready for him directly
after breakfast." And off tripped our landlord's pretty daughter in obedience to the
antiquary's orders. "'Pon my life! Crucible, this bacon is delicious," said he, helping
himself afresh. "What say you, Blackdeed?" Both gentlemen acquiesced, as did also the other members in turn. "And the eggs divine," said Dr. Bleedem, bolting one at a mouthful. "Excellent," joined in McGuilp and Parnassus, filling their plates. The meal passed off pleasantly, and the last member at table had
scarcely wiped his mouth with his napkin when Master Suds was announced. "Here, Helen, my dear," said Oldstone, "you may clear away now, and then
you may call in your gallant. I am sure you will excuse me, gentlemen,
for making you spectators to my operation?" "Certainly," answered the club all round. "There, that will do, Helen; now call him in." Helen disappeared with the breakfast things, when a timid knock at the
door was heard. "Come in," roared sundry voices at once, and Master Suds appeared upon
the scene, with his shaving tackle in a bag, and having his hair
frizzled up in a caricature of the latest French fashion. "Bong jour, Mounseers," he began, with a flourish. "Don't mounseer me, you young whipper-snapper," said the antiquary; "but
learn to speak the king's English when Englishmen honour you with their
custom." "Pardong, mounseer--that is, I mean, I beg pardon, gentlemen; but habit,
gentlemen--habit, you know--is rather difficult to get rid of, and when
one has just come from foreign parts, like myself, one is apt to----"

"Cut it short, young shaver," said Oldstone, "and bend you to your task. Are your razors sharp?" "Mais oui, mounseer--that is----"

"If I catch you mounseering me again, I'll make that French pate of
thine and this English fist acquainted, so mind," said the insulted
antiquary. This terrible threat imposed temporary silence on our knight of the
lather, who soaped and sudded away for a time without a word. During this pause the spectators of the operation, who were seated or
standing about the room, conversed together in groups in an undertone.