ks, and of the
museum curators the exclusion of the nude from the picture and
sculpture galleries; and it is she who, at balls, theatres and
dinner-parties, astonishes the world with the display of her charms. It
is she who holds up her hands in holy indignation at the sight of men
and women bathing in Continental and American seaside resorts,
forgetting to observe and mention that at those places both sexes are
dressed exactly alike, in dark, thick serge costumes, which invariably
have a skirt; and it is she whom you may see on English beaches bathe
in light, clinging, salmon-pink calico tights. I hope that my readers
of puritanical proclivities will feel obliged and grateful to me for
not giving that attire the name that would describe it best, that of an
article of underclothing which you may see on the ladies' washing-list.

The British matron is a keenly sensitive person. She may not take any
notice of such pieces of news as cases of starvation in the midst of
London, of cruelty to wives, of Turkish or Chinese atrocities, and all
that sort of everyday intelligence which she may read in the daily
press; but she will air her Homeric indignation if she hears that an
operation has been performed on a rabbit without giving anaesthetics to
poor 'bunny.' She is the champion of dogs, cats, horses, rabbits,
birds, and is invariably a member of the Royal Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, a society which includes neither men
nor women among its proteges. In spite of that, the British matron
witnesses pigeon-shooting matches, eats _pate de foie gras_ (which
is obtained by slowly killing a goose inside a hot oven), wears furs
which can be obtained only by skinning animals alive, sealskins among
them, and trims her hats with the dead bodies of the most beautiful
birds.

If you were to remark before the British matron that the trousers of
Mr. So-and-so are always irreproachable, you would run the risk of
creating a panic, and the lady might go into a fit. But you may see her
watch men's races at Athletic Sports meetings. For all covering on
their skin, the competitors have a thin flannel jersey, and drawers of
the same material about the size of fig-leaves. Saturated with
perspiration, these elementary articles of clothing will cleave to the
human form as if the wearers had come straight up out of the water. The
British matron looks on, applauds, and does not turn a hair. Her ears
are most easily shocked, but no