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WRITTEN CARICATURES. (From the Charivari.) THE BEARD. Enormous moustachios, worn by men whose pro- fession is not military, hide either a nugly mouth or bad teeth, excepting when they are the ornament of an officer of the civic militia, in which case they are no longer the toy of a lout playing at soldiers. Bushy whiskers are exceedingly becoming—to hackney coachmen and police sergeants. Whiskers which are shaved to a level of the mouth, or which, scanty above, gradually enlarge as they de- scend, till they fill up the space between the mouth and ears, are the natural embellishments of a black- smith, a publican, or a porter. The tenth-rate painter wears a mouche a la Van- dyck, or a la Henry III. But the full beard is the appurtenance of artists' sitters, of incomprehensible poets, of village trampers, and of Parisian lions, to the latter of which it be- comes a substitute for a mane. THE CRAVAT. The style of the cravat changes according to our age. Before 10, our necks are free from all encum- brance; up to 18 the cravat is an object of utility- from 20 to 25 it becomes a matter of pleasure, we seek to set off our countenances to advantage, and endure the yoke of a cravat with a light heart at 30 the cravat begins to be a study at 40 it becomes a task, and gradually assumes more ample dimensions -we aspire to repose. After this age our last pre- tensions to beauty, its survivors by twenty or thirty years, decay and vanish, and the cravat becomes what it may, we heed it not; either it collapses, and al- lows itself to be crushed by the stiff shirt collar, or becomes a refuge for the chin and mouth, and even for the nose. The shape, colour, and disposition of a cravat vary with the age, and also with the character and social position of the individual. A pliant and loose cravat, negligently tied, will mark out your man who knows how to enjoy life by a stiff brown cravat, tightly drawn, you will recog- nize the humourist-the man that never sleeps well. The physician, the artist, the barrister (we do not mean the amateur barrister) wear a cravat tied in an unpretending way, without stiffness, and abstain al-. together from shirt collars. The provincial, whose species is gradually becom- ing extinct, may still be distinguished by his mohair stock (warranted to last five years). The man of fashion imprisons his neck in a prim black satin stock. The ex-singer at the Shades, the old admirer of Mademoiselle Mars, the literary man of the empire, encircle their throats with a kind of white turban, above which their wrinkled countenan- ces appear like a macaroon floating on a cream. Lastly, to conclude our chapter of cravats, by way of useful information, we call your attention to the gentleman whose throat is ornamented with a rusty black velvet stock, exceedingly high, and fastened at the nape of his neck with a large steel buckle- in presence of such a person prudence warns us to be cautious in our speech; he is a political informer. GLOVES. An ill-bred man wears gloves only on extraordinary occasions, and knows not how to wear them he either selects them of a colour ill-suited to his dress, too narrow or too large. When he hat them on, he is at a loss how to dispose of his hands; if he takes them off, he ruffles them, and soon thrusts them into his pockets. He that wears dirty gloves, and with holes at the tips of the fingers, is one ashamed of his poverty. Gloves at 19 sous are only to be tolerated in a fancy shopkeeper's accountant, a small country-town banker, or an attorney's clerk. All individuals who wear cotton gloves, will at night wear a cap of the same material. The gentlemanly man knows how to select, put on, wear, and take off his gloves with good taste. The coxcomb's gloves fit so closely, that he can neither move his fingers, nor shut his hand, and therefore he holds his cane between his fingers as Punch does his stick.

Hatesrt Intelligence.