It is of course generally true that it is well in matters of costume to take as a general guide the habits of the inhabitants of the country we are visiting; but the recommendation cannot be taken too literally, as, apart from questions of cut and fashion, a too slavish imitation might be as hazardous to health as it would be fatal to decency, as there are places where the Paris fashions consist only of a hoop of cane or a liberal smearing of clay. Nor can the question be lightly solved by simply adopting lighter materials, as, in addition to adaptation to altered meteorological conditions, our dress should be so contrived as to afford protection against certain other dangers which are only indirectly the outcome of climatic conditions, notably against the attacks of mosquitoes, which are now known to be no mere irritating annoyances, but to undoubtedly serve as the carriers of several of the most deadly of tropical diseases. Moreover, although very pleasant, it is by no means safe to knock about the house bare-footed in countries where scorpions and centipedes, to say nothing of poisonous snakes, are every-day vermin. The “flannel next the skin” doctrine, too, is applicable only to those blessed with hides sufficiently phlegmatic to tolerate the material; and enthusiasts in its favour are apt to forget that our powers of resistance to extreme heat depend entirely on the healthy action of the skin, so that, if that important portion of our anatomy be kept in a condition of chronic inflammation by “prickly heat,” it must necessarily be more or less incapacitated from performing its proper functions. The substratum of truth that underlies most doctrines, good, bad and indifferent, depends in this case on the fact that in hot climates it is especially important that clothing should be absorbent and porous; but, provided this be secured by the plan of manufacture, the nature of the fibre used is of little moment. It must be admitted that the well-known Jaeger materials are in all respects admirable for all but the higher grades of atmospheric temperature, but when the thermometer gets up in the nineties, unadulterated wool becomes too irritating for the majority, and an admixture of silk, as in the so-called “Anglo-Indian gauze,” is preferable. Pure silk gets too easily sodden with perspiration, and in that state is too good a conductor of heat to form by itself a desirable material, but the combination of the two fibres forms an ideal material for wear during periods of excessive heat. This material is necessarily rather costly, though it is surprisingly strong in proportion to its weight, and with ordinary care in washing lasts a long time, whereas the cheaper material of mixed cotton and wool is apt to shrink, and hence requires to be frequently replaced.