the word of a physiologist, that the tender passion will lose its
distinctiveness; it may subside into respect: it is more likely to
change into a less agreeable emotion.

In man, the hair is an excellent index of character. As the beard
distinguishes man from woman, so its full and luxuriant growth often
indicates strength and nobleness, intellectual and physical; while
a meager beard suggests an uncertain character--part masculine, part
feminine. Was there ever a truly great man, or one with a generous
disposition, with a thin beard and a weazen face? On the other
hand, show me a man with "royal locks," and I will trust his natural
impulses in almost every vicissitude. When we see a genuine man, upon
whom Nature has declined to set this seal of her approval, we cannot
help an involuntary emotion of admiration for the virtuous and
persevering energy with which he must have overcome his destiny.

Pertinent hereto: we have read with unusual satisfaction the arguments
for Beards in Dr. Marcy's _Theory and Practice of Medicine_ and the
pleasant essays in the same behalf which John Waters has printed in
the _Knickerbocker_. Our conservatism yields before these reformers,
who would bring custom to the proprieties of nature.

* * * * *

WHAT'S IN A NAME?--A good deal, sometimes. Thus, the truth of the
adage of "give a dog a bad name," &c., has lately been exemplified in
a singular manner. Eugene Sue, you may remember, causes some of the
most terrible events in the _Mysteres de Paris_ to occur in the Allée
des Venves, a fine avenue in the Champs Elysees. This has had the
effect of giving the unfortunate Allée--though as quiet, modest,