The Talkative Wig

THE TALKATIVE WIG
BY
MRS. FOLLEN
With Illustrations by Billings and others

THE OLD GARRET.
"Pray, dear Mother," said the boys, "tell us what else you heard in the
old garret."
"You know," said she, "it was on a rainy Sunday when my mother sent
me up there with my book, Pilgrim's Progress. This book always
delighted me, and set my fancy to work in some way or other.
After reading a while, I began to look at the queer old things in the
garret. Pussy began to purr louder and louder, and at last I fell again
into the same dreamy sleep that I was in at first.
Presently I heard the same confused sound which I heard before when
the old tenants of the garret began to speak. There seemed also to be a
slight motion among them, and a sort of mysterious appearance came
over the whole apartment, as if they were all living, though very
shadowy beings. Presently I heard the creak of the curling tongs, and he
uttered these words:--
"I think we have all been wronged by our friend the wig; he approved
of our all relating our own histories, and promised that, after we had
done so, he would give us his, frankly and truly, as we have done;
instead of that he, as well as the rest of us, fell asleep when our friend
spinning wheel related her story; and, when we all waked up, he did not

fulfil his promise. I move that he be requested now to give us a faithful
account of his whole life, till he was consigned with us to this dark,
gloomy old place. I probably have been more intimately acquainted
with him than any one present; for once or twice I have assisted in
smoothing, or rather frizzing, his ruffled hairs, and making him fit for
company; and, with your leave, my friends, I urge him in your name to
relate his history." A sort of hum of approbation sounded through the
long, dark old garret, and then the wig spoke.
"Friend Frizzle is right: I did agree to relate my adventures, but I said I
would wait till all had told their stories; now, here are two of this
brilliant company that have not said one word of themselves, that
comical coat and that old cloak; after they have related their history I
will relate mine. The wig hitched a little on his block, and was silent.
"I am ready," said the coat, "to tell all I know of myself, and I shall not
keep you long, I trust. My friend the baize gown and I had the same
origin on the back of a sheep, only I was of a nicer texture, and had,
from my earliest days, a more refined character; and, of course, was
used for higher purposes. Major Sword there may know perhaps that I
had as much to do with making the major of Cadets as he had, only I
did not make people run when they looked at me, as he says he did.
I was originally of the most delicate white, and I was made into one of
the very first coats that ever appeared on the parade as one of the
Governor's guards. I think I did more to make the major than my Lord
Sword did. Think of a major without a coat! He would not be a major,
for a moment. He would be hooted at. Now, even were he without a
sword, and had me, such as I once was, on his back, he would still be
known as a major of the Cadets."
"Self-glorification! Come to your story," cried the musket, with a
bounce.
"I will," said the coat. "I was, as I have told you, the major's military
coat, admired by all who looked at me; and I appeared often on parade
days till he gave up his office, and left this country, when I was left
hanging up in his dressing room, and all my glory was gone.

As the major's boys grew bigger, they would often beg their mother to
allow them to put me on. The rogues were so short then that I trailed on
the ground. I was even so far abused as to be worn by girls. This tried
my feelings sorely, but I was forced to submit. Once I was so far
disgraced as to be worn by one of the girls while she danced with her
brother who was dressed like a monkey, with a tail over a yard long;
and this was not all, she pulled the monkey's tail too hard, it came off,
and then the monkey boy seized the tail and beat me with it, meaning to
beat his sister, but I