Bleu,' and the other by the use of it in one of Lord Byron's poems. Though now become familiar and trite, their day may not be long-Cadentque quæ nunc sunt in honore vocabula." But the dandies saw Lord Glenbervie down, and lived to come in for Mr. Carlyle's rugged denunciations. "Touching Dandies," writes the Sartor Resartus, "let us consider, with some scientific strictness, what a dandy specially is. A dandy is a clotheswearing man—a man whose trade, office, and existence consist in the wearing of clothes. Every faculty of his soul, spirit, purse, and person, is heroically consecrated to this one object,—the wearing of clothes wisely and well; so that as others dress to live, he lives to dress. The all importance of clothes has sprung up in the intellect of the dandy, without effort, like an instinct of genius he is inspired with cloth, a poet of cloth. A divine idea of cloth is born with him." Still more severe is this epigram :—

"A Dandy is a thing that would

Be a young lady if it could,

But as it can't, does all it can

To show the world it's not a man."

To the Dandies succeeded the "Exquisites" and the "Loungers ;" lady-killers all, who laid themselves out ostentatiously for female conquest and broke women's hearts like china-ware. They talked, walked, danced, did everything in a style of their own; and their motto was "look and die!" After these came fops of a ruder, more adventurous type known as Corinthians," the "fastest" of "fast" men, who delighted in street broils, and such riotous achievements as are depicted in Tom and Ferry. They, too, have had their day. "Corin

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thianism" and "Dandyism" are alike as dead as a doornail. Practical joking is now but another name for ruffianism, and your fast man is voted a "cad." No one now-a-days apes excessive finery in dress, or seeks to attract notice by any startling peculiarity of mise or carriage. Every one in decent circumstances, and having any pretence to the conventional designation of "a gentleman," dresses well but quietly. Anything outré in his attire would provoke a sneer. Anything "loud " is in bad form. Thanks to the Jews,-not to the better class of Hebrews, amongst whom may be found many well-bred people, but to the lower order of Jews with their pinchbeck chains, their flashy pins, and their boisterous display of gimcrack rings upon unwashed fingers, Christians won't wear jewelry. A small "Albert," and possibly one ring of the simplest design, is, generally speaking, all the bijouterie that any man who has been baptized ever cares to carry. A disdainful tone in conversation, coupled with a certain affected silliness of observation, was once deemed essential, but it is so no longer. Sam Rogers met in his travels on the Continent an English lord, with more money than brains-Lord Maynard he was styled-who on some casual allusion being made to the House of Commons, stuck his glass in his eye and exclaimed haughtily, "The House of Commons! Ah, yes; I remember. Is that going on still?" This stolid bit of patrician "hauteur" passed for a fine flash of wit at the time, but the man who would speak thus in our time would be written down an ass. Nor, indeed, is it to be wondered at, that Lord Maynard's title is extinct. Of the whole tribe of fops, the "Lady's Man" is now the sole survivor, and he becomes rarer every year. He will soon have utterly

disappeared, and the sooner the better, for of all the caricatures on humanity that ever encumbered the earth, the Lady's Man is assuredly the most contemptible. It is worthy of remark that to Pierce Egan, one of the trashiest of trashery writers, belongs the glory of having coined a word which has obtained universal currency-the word "swell." The phrase, however, is no longer used in the sense in which Egan used it. It no longer serves to designate a pompous, pretentious fellow, swelling into false consequence like the frog in the fable. Any decently-clad man of reputable position may now be called in slang phrase a "swell," which is simply the opposite of a "rough." There is nothing in common between the swell and the fop. As for your "Snob," he is simply an addle-headed creature, who meanly makes court to people of higher rank than his own. He reveres them and seeks to imitate them, not for their virtue or their talents, but because a nod from a lord is a breakfast for a fool. Of slaves and wretches such as these, we have, heaven knows, enough and to spare. Your "dandy" was bad enough, but your thorough-paced "snob," is incomparably worse. Your dandy, for all his fine airs and fantastic clothes, might be at heart a gentleman, and often was so ; but as for your "snob," he hardly deserves to be accounted a human being, much less a gentleman. Dandyism was bound to fall, for it was founded upon a fallacy—the fallacy that manners should be artificial, not natural. The very reverse is the fact. "Manners make the man." True, but they must be the manners of nature. Those of art unmake him. The heart is the fountain of courtesy, as of honor. All forms of civility springing elsewhere than from the heart are but shams-mean tricks of ceremony

put on and off, like mere matters of personal decoration. He is truly courteous, and he alone, whose courtesy is the outcome of a genial, generous nature. Such a man may lack the requirements of etiquette, but never that benevolence whose external manifestation is a delicate regard for the feelings of others. Be his position in society what it may, that man is a "gentleman ;" than which there is no higher title.

THE PLEASURES OF SILENCE.

SUPPOSE

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and

UPPOSE we all make a solemn determination to hold our tongue! Let us observe this rule as rigidly as possible, and you may depend upon it that such of us as shall live till this day twelve-month will have no cause to rue the resolve. Mr. Carlyle enjoys the credit which properly belongs to an old Eastern proverb-monger of having been the first to remark that speech is silver, but silence is gold. His queer idiom to be sure substitutes silvern" for "silver" "goldern" for "gold," English, so let it not pass. is silver, but silence is gold; and let us lay the maxim to heart with the most sedulous attention. In our transactions with our fellow-creatures, let us one and all make a vow to pay in the more precious currency as often as circumstances will permit. Beware of words! Use them as little as you can. Nod, wink, shake your head, look wise, shrug your shoulders, make some

but that is Carlylese, not Say we rather that speech

significant gesture, but don't open your lips if you can

at all avoid doing so. other purpose than to When you have nothing to say, say it; and be sure to be in that condition as frequently as you can. The least said the soonest mended, and that which is uttered not at all will never need correction. What is the use of talking? Anybody can talk ; but a faculty for silence is one of the rarest and most valuable of talents. "Much tongue

Never open your mouth for any put something in it.

and much judgment seldom go together," writes Sir Roger Lestrange, " for talking and thinking are two quite different faculties." So they are, Sir Roger, and the latter is by far the more estimable. "Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur," quoth the Eton Latin grammar—“ he is a wise man who speaks little "—but how few there are who appear to be of that opinion! Everybody wants to have his say, and when he has had it, it usually proves of little worth. I knew a pretty girl once, "whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls!" She was the most taciturn of her sex. "My dear," said her mother to her one day, "why don't you speak? If you don't talk, people will suspect you are a fool." "Mother," replied the maiden, “it is surely much better that people should merely suspect me to be a fool while I hold my tongue, than that they should know it for certain when I begin to talk." The old lady was, to speak in the argot of the day, "Shut up," and her daughter passed with all the hearers for what she was in truth-a damsel wise as beautiful. We have it upon the authority of the classic chroniclers that Ulysses was the most eloquent and the most silent of men; "he knew that a word spoken never wrought so much good as a word concealed." Why are there so many wretched marriages