Literary Lapses by Stephen Leacock

the face.”
    This process is continued until one of two things happens. Either the customer is obdurate, and staggers to his feet at last and gropes his way out of the shop with the knowledge that he is a wrinkled, prematurely senile man whose wicked life is stamped upon his face, and whose unstopped hair-ends and failing follicles menace him with the certainty of complete baldness within twenty-four hours–or else, as in nearly all instances, he succumbs. In the latter case, immediately on his saying “yes” there is a shout of exultation from the barber, a roar of steaming water, and within a moment two barbers have grabbed him by the feet and thrown him under the tap, and, in spite of his struggles, are giving him the Hydro-magnetic treatment. When he emerges from theirhands, he steps out of the shop looking as if he had been varnished.
    But even the application of the Hydro-magnetic and the Rejuvenator do not by any means exhaust the resources of the up-to-date barber. He prefers to perform on the customer a whole variety of subsidiary services not directly connected with shaving, but carried on during the process of the shave.
    In a good, up-to-date shop, while one man is shaving the customer, others black his boots, brush his clothes, darn his socks, point his nails, enamel his teeth, polish his eyes, and alter the shape of any of his joints which they think unsightly. During this operation they often stand seven deep round a customer, fighting for a chance to get at him.
    All of these remarks apply to barber-shops in the city, and not to country places. In the country there is only one barber and one customer at a time. The thing assumes the aspect of a straight-out, rough-and-tumble, catch-as-catch-can fight, with a few spectators sitting round the shop to see fair play. In the city they can shave a man without removing any of his clothes. But in the country, where the customer insists on getting the full value for his money, they remove the collar and necktie, the coat and the waistcoat, and, for a really good shave and hair-cut, the customer is stripped to the waist. The barber can then take a rush at him from the other side of the room, and drive the clippers up the full length of the spine, so as to come at the heavier hair on the back of the head with the impact of a lawn-mower driven into long grass.

 
    GETTING THE THREAD OF IT
    H ave you ever had a man try to explain to you what happened in a book as far as he has read? It is a most instructive thing. Sinclair, the man who shares my rooms with me, made such an attempt the other night. I had come in cold and tired from a walk and found him full of excitement, with a bulky magazine in one hand and a paper-cutter gripped in the other.
    â€œSay, here’s a grand story,” he burst out as soon as I came in; “it’s great! most fascinating thing I ever read. Wait till I read you some of it. I’ll just tell you what has happened up to where I am–you’ll easily catch the thread of it–and then we’ll finish it together.”
    I wasn’t feeling in a very responsive mood, but I saw no way to stop him, so I merely said, “All right, throw me your thread, I’ll catch it.”
    â€œWell,” Sinclair began with great animation, “this count gets this letter…”
    â€œHold on,” I interrupted, “what count gets what letter?”
    â€œOh, the count it’s about, you know. He gets this letter from this Porphirio…”
    â€œFrom which Porphirio?”
    â€œWhy, Porphirio sent the letter, don’t you see, he sent it,” Sinclair exclaimed a little impatiently– “sent it through Demonio and told him to watch for him with him, and kill him when he got him.”
    â€œOh, see here!” I broke in, “who is to meet who, and who is to get stabbed?”
    â€œThey’re going to stab Demonio.”
    â€œAnd who brought the