tion
of a gentleman--the very fine and the very coarse; or, to speak
figuratively--the Cachmere and the Witney blanket.

The latter is an emanation from the refinement of the nineteenth
century, for a prejudice in favour of "extra-superfine" formerly
existed, as the coarser textures, now prevalent, were confined
exclusively to common sailors, hackney-coachmen, and bum-bailiffs.
These frivolous distinctions are happily exploded, and the true
gentleman may now show in Saxony, or figure in Flushing--the one being
suggestive of his property, and the other indicative of his taste.
These remarks apply exclusively to woollens, whether for coats or
trousers.

It is incumbent on every gentleman to have a perfect library of
waistcoats, the selection of which must be regulated by the cost of the
material, as it would be derogatory, in the highest degree, to a man
aspiring to the character of a _distingue_, to decorate his bosom with
a garment that would by any possibility come under the denomination of
"these choice patterns, only 7s. 6d." There are certain designs for
this important decorative adjunct, which entirely preclude them from
the wardrobes of the elite--the imaginative bouquets upon red-plush
grounds, patronised by the ingenious constructors of canals and
rail-roads--the broad and brilliant Spanish striped Valencias, which
distinguish the _savans_ or knowing ones of the stable--the cotton
(must we profane the word!) velvet impositions covered with botanical
diagrams done in distemper, and monopolized by lawyers' clerks and
small professionals--the _positive_ or genuine Genoa velvet, with
violent and showy embellishments of roses, dahlias, and peonies, which
find favour in the eyes of aldermen, attorneys, and the proprietors of
four-wheel chaises, are all to be avoided as the fifth daughter of a
clergyman's widow.

It is almost superfluous to add, that breeches can only be made of
white leather or white kerseymere, for any other colour or material
would awaken associations of the dancing-master, the waiter, the
butler, or the bumpkin, or, what is equally to be dreaded, "the highly
respectables" of the last century.

The dressing-gown is a portion of the costume which commands particular
attention; for though no man "can appear as a hero to his valet," he
must keep up the gentleman. This can only be done by the dressing-gown.
To gentlemen who occupy apartments, the _robe de chambre_, if properly
selected, is of infi