of moustaches may be observed; here and there an imperial; and occasionally some courageous breaker of conventions exhibits a full-grown beard.[2] This nonconformity in hair is countenanced by various nonconformities in dress, shown by others of the assemblage.  Bare necks, shirt-collars a la Byron, waistcoats cut Quaker fashion, wonderfully shaggy great coats, numerous oddities in form and colour, destroy the monotony usual in crowds.  Even those exhibiting no conspicuous peculiarity, frequently indicate by something in the pattern or make-up of their clothes, that they pay small regard to what their tailors tell them about the prevailing taste.  And when the gathering breaks up, the varieties of head-gear displayed—­the number of caps, and the abundance of felt hats—­suffice to prove that were the world at large like-minded, the black cylinders which tyrannise over us would soon be deposed.

The foreign correspondence of our daily press shows that this relationship between political discontent and the disregard of customs exists on the Continent also.  Red republicanism has always been distinguished by its hirsuteness.  The authorities of Prussia, Austria, and Italy, alike recognise certain forms of hat as indicative of disaffection, and fulminate against them accordingly.  In some places the wearer of a blouse runs a risk of being classed among the suspects; and in others, he who would avoid the bureau of police, must beware how he goes out in any but the ordinary colours.  Thus, democracy abroad, as at home, tends towards personal singularity.

Nor is this association of characteristics peculiar to modern times, or to reformers of the State.  It has always existed; and it has been manifested as much in religious agitations as in political ones.  Along with dissent from the chief established opinions and arrangements, there has ever been some dissent from the customary social practices.  The Puritans, disapproving of the long curls of the Cavaliers, as of their principles, cut their own hair short, and so gained the name of “Roundheads.”  The marked religious nonconformity of the Quakers was accompanied by an equally-marked nonconformity of manners—­in attire, in speech, in salutation.  The early Moravians not only believed differently, but at the same time dressed differently, and lived differently, from their fellow Christians.

That the association between political independence and independence of personal conduct, is not a phenomenon of to-day only, we may see alike in the appearance of Franklin at the French court in plain clothes, and in the white hats worn by the last generation of radicals.  Originality of nature is sure to show itself in more ways than one.  The mention of George Fox’s suit of leather, or Pestalozzi’s school name, “Harry Oddity,” will at once suggest the remembrance that men who have in great things diverged from the beaten track, have frequently done so in small things likewise.  Minor illustrations of this truth may be gathered in almost every circle.  We believe that whoever will number up his reforming and rationalist acquaintances, will find among them more than the usual proportion of those who in dress or behaviour exhibit some degree of what the world calls eccentricity.