This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1793 Excerpt: ...immortal carbuncle or pyramid of purple salt, more radiant than the sun in its meridian glory; which are no more to the purpose, than the ...Read MoreThis historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1793 Excerpt: ...immortal carbuncle or pyramid of purple salt, more radiant than the sun in its meridian glory; which are no more to the purpose, than the red cabbage which you saw in the middle of the table. But these " respectable taylors" communicate, to the initiated, the true and important secrets of the trade founded on mathematical principles, for the uses of common life; how to cut out a square piece of cloth, with the most advantage to themselves as well as to their customers, into elliptical circles, parallellograms, parallellopipedons, and all the variety of dimensions necessary to make a coat or a pair of breeches." I suffered the orator to harangue without interruption, when a young member, who sat near the presidents waxing mellow, began spouting Hamlet: - But - ' But that I am forbid "To tell the secrets of my prison-house, "I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word "Would harrow up thy soul." The President, a little sore, called him "to order!" But the chaplain, now also a little elevated, said, " Why, Mr. President, I believe there are some secrets of your prison-house, called hell, (where, I am told, you now and then slip a remnant of cloth) which ought not to be disclosed. I had my pulpit hung with black cloth, with which my taylor (not any one of this honest fraternity) made me indeed a coat and waistcoat, but so scanty, that I could not wear them; and brought me home a rag or two, not enough to make a pincushion. But half a year after I saw my gentleman in a handsome black waistcoat and breeches, which a discarded journeyman assured me was a remnant of my eleemo-' iinary pulpit-cloth. A droll fellow now began to sing, in no very melodious voice, the old song, "A tinker and a taylor, &quo...Read Less
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