ies, for we have become the denizens of a roomy attic (ring the top
bell twice), and are only saluted by an Hebe of all-work and our printer's
devil!

ON DRESS IN GENERAL.--_L'habit fait le moine_.--It has been laid down by
Brummel, Bulwer, and other great authorities, that "the tailor makes the
man;" and he would be the most daring of sceptics who would endeavour to
controvert this axiom. Your first duty, therefore, is to place yourself in
the hands of some distinguished schneider, and from him take out your
patent of gentility--for a man with an "elegant coat" to his back is like a
bill at sight endorsed with a good name; whilst a seedy or ill-cut garment
resembles a protested note of hand labelled "No effects." It will also be
necessary for you to consult "The Monthly Book of Fashions," and to
imitate, as closely as possible, those elegant and artistical productions
of the gifted _burin_, which show to perfection "What a piece of work is
man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties!" &c.--You must not
consult your own ease and taste (if you have any), for nothing is so vulgar
as to suit your convenience in these matters, as you should remember that
you dress to please others, and not yourself. We have heard of some
eccentric individuals connected with noble families, who have departed from
this rule; but they invariably paid the penalty of their rashness, being
frequently mistaken for men of intellect; and it should not be forgotten,
that any exercise of the mind is a species of labour utterly incompatible
with the perfect man of fashion.

The confiding characters of tailors being generally acknowledged, it is
almost needless to state, that the _faintest_ indication of seediness will
be fatal to your reputation; and as a presentation at the Insolvent Court
is equally fashionable with that of St. James, any squeamishness respecting
your inability to pay could only be looked upon as a want of moral courage
upon your part, and

[Illustration: UTTERLY UNWORTHY OF A GENTLEMAN.]

[The subject of _dress in particular_ will form the subject of our next
chapter.]

* * * * *

IF I HAD A THOUSAND A-YEAR.

A BACHELOR'S LYRIC.

If I had a thousand a-year,
(How my heart at the bright vision glows!)
I should never be crusty or queer,
But all would be _couleur de rose_.
I'd pay all my debts, though _outre_,
And of duns and embarrassments clear,
Life would pass l