So much depends upon this substitute, and so much more is thought of habits than of manners,—that is, morals,—and of the makers of the former than the teachers of the latter, that it is popularly and properly said, “The tailor makes the man.” No doubt of it; and tailors are far better paid than tutors. The Nugees keep country-houses and recline in carriages; the philosophers are accounted of as _nugæ_, and plod on foot to give golden instruction for small thanks and a few pence. _Their_ device, if they are ever so ennobled as to be thought worthy of one, might be that of the patriotic ladies of Prussia, who, before the time when their country became a satrapy of Muscovy, exchanged their golden adornments for an iron ring, on which was engraved the legend, “_Ich gab Gold um Eisen_,”—I gave gold for iron. This being the case, it is little to be wondered at that man is more careful about his dress than his instruction. The well-dressed man looks, at all events, like a man well to do; and how profound is the respect of the world for a man who may be catalogued as “_well to do_!” That man thoroughly understood the meaning of the term who, when on his trial for murder, and anticipating an acquittal, invited his counsel to dinner. The invitation was accepted, but, the verdict rendering the inviter incapable of even ordering a dinner for himself, the intended guest frowned on the convict, and went and dined with the prosecutor. Philosophy has done its best to cure man of vanity in dress; but philosophy has been vain,—and so has man. “For a man to be fantastic and effeminate in attire,” says Stobæus, “is unpardonable. It is next to Sardanapalus’s spinning among women. To such I would say, Art thou not ashamed, when Nature hath made thee a man, to make thyself a woman?” Seneca hath something to the same purpose, and not altogether inapplicable in our days. “Some of the manly sex amongst us,” says he, “are so effeminate, that they would rather have the commonwealth out of order, than their hair; they are more solicitous about trimming and sprucing up their heads, than they are of their health or of the safety of the public; and are more anxious to be fine than virtuous.” Sir Walter Raleigh asserts that “No man is esteemed for gay garments, but by fools and women,”—an assertion which shows that his philosophy and his civility were both in a ragged condition. Sir Matthew Hale throws the blame where it ought to be borne, when he declares that the vanity of loving fine clothes and new fashions, and valuing _ourselves_ by them, is one of the most childish pieces of folly that can be. The philosophy of the judge is “truer steel” than that of the soldier. But, for philosophy in describing a dress, I know nothing that can surpass that of the poor Irishman, who, looking down at his own garment of million tatters, smilingly said that it was “made of holes.”