of. Our stalwart ancestors did admirably well without umbrellas; they
wore good cloaks or coats, and broad beavers to keep the rain out of
their necks, faring not a jot the worse for it. Umbrellas are only fit
for men-milliners, Cockney travellers, and women. The nature of a hat,
we flatter ourselves, is something independent of cotton and
whalebone; and instead of the umbrella claiming precedence over the
hat, the hat, we take it, should be above the umbrella. An
Englishman's hat, then, should be something that will keep the rain
off his face and neck when the weather is bad, and shield his eyes
from the glare of the sun on the few days when sunlight is
oppressive--and these two requirements settle at once, on all
principles of common sense, that a man, if he has only one kind of
covering for the head, should have a hat with a broad brim. This is
the very foundation of the definition of an useful hat, providing that
a hat is really to be the thing worn for protecting a man's upper
story. Usefulness will also decide against height in the crown. _Cui
bono_ this same high crown of ours, that looks more like a
watering-pot deprived of its spout and handle than a reasonable
article of human apparel? Down with the crowns, say we! If you will
wear a hat, down with your crown. You may put down your half-sovereign
or sovereign, or whatever you please, for your new hat first of all,
but down with your crown too. Here, gentle reader, you will exclaim
against our taste, and will protest that we would sacrifice every
thing to that horrid utilitarian principle, which opposes all ideas of
beauty and poetry. We are free to confess that, in our opinion, there
is not much poetry to be made about such a subject--unless some
obsolete verses, "All round my hat," may be alleged to the contrary;
but as for the beauty of the head-piece, we protest that we admit its
existence, and think that it should be consulted by whomsoever would
pay proper attention to his own outward appearance. The merely useful
may possibly make the shape approximate to that of a Quaker's or a
jarvey's, but the beautiful has to elevate and modify it into the
mystical proportions fit for a man of taste. One other quality,
however, which is intimately connected with the useful, has to be
noticed. The substance should not be hard and unyielding. Witness, ye
reminiscences--ye painful images of bygone headachs, even yet flitting
through our brain like Titanic thunderbolts!