The Grinder Papers — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2 THE GRINDER PAPERS. NUMBER NINE. CHARITY GRINDER ATTENDS A MATINEE. If there is an angel in man’s guise on earth, I do think it is dear Horace Billiwinkle. Out of a hair-dresser’s window, or one of those dentists’ show-cases, where they keep putting their talse teeth in with cambric handkerchiefs (the wax images, I mean, you know), there never was such a complexion, or such dear pink nostrils, or such a sweet little mouth. And, then, his mustache! No matter what that envious Miss Sourgrapes tells you, don’t believe that it is dyed, for the raven hue is na- ture’s own. When I see him coming up the street, his beautiful gray in- expressibles, so exactly like legs of mutton in shape, and his sleeves to match, and his heavenly boots, so tight and shining, and his dear little bob-tailed coat, and his Dundreary neck-tie, and his diamond studs, and the daintiest mauve gloves, or some- times lemon color, six and a quarter ladies’ size, and the little cane, with an ivory dog’s head, that he twirls, are so bewitching that I feel it impossible to portray my sensations vividly with my pen. And then, when I think that I may call that magnifi-