The first cut is that of a sandal worn by the aristocracy of Egypt in the earliest ages. There is a fastening over the instep, and another passing from that, to a point between the great toe and the smaller ones, to prevent slipping toward either side. The foot is a handsome one—evidently that of a lady—and the sandal seems appropriate to a dry, warm climate, in the days when a partially bare foot had not become disgraceful. The second figure represents the _cothurnus_ of the old Romans—a sort of boot-sandal, laced in front down to the roots of the toes, but leaving the toes themselves exposed and free, and with a sole like a sandal, evidently shaped to fit the foot—not the foot to fit _it_. The sturdy conquerors of the world did not, it is plain, believe in subjecting their toes to any such tyranny as we impose upon ours. Who can say the foot is not finely formed, although the toes are not drawn together into a pile? or that the covering is not appropriate, neat, and elegant? Figure 26 shows us a form of shoe in fashion among the nobility of England in the fifteenth century. Though the toe is somewhat lengthy, the shoe is otherwise eminently sensible. We ought to be, and think we are, able to improve upon what was done by our ancestors of four hundred years ago; yet here is a sole that, notwithstanding its ridiculously long toe, is better adapted to fit the natural foot and preserve its shape than any of those made at the present day. A turn-up toe is not so objectionable, when of moderate length, as it leaves less necessity for a high heel. And if our shoes must have long and narrow toes, something like this is decidedly _better_, and no more ridiculous, than the cramping, distorting shapes now in use. It is at least extraordinary that with all our modern wisdom we are not yet able to produce a better form than any of them. But while waiting for the right thing, if the Paris _cordonniers_ will adopt this, and return it to us duly indorsed as the latest orthodox French style, there will be reason for gratitude to them, and for congratulation among ourselves. It may be noticed that the form here shown would, if its long toe were taken off, have a strong resemblance to that called the _Eureka_, the breadth at the part where the toes lie, being its best and most important point. And thus comparing the Eureka with all the _modern_ shapes of boots and shoes, we are compelled to re-assert that it is not only the best of any for all proper purposes, but that, looked upon with a rightly educated taste—with a knowledge that the forward part of the foot is, and ought to be, the widest—it is also the most beautiful. FOOTNOTES: