ON DRESS IN GENERAL.--_L'habit fait le moine_.--It has been laid down by Brummel, Bulwer, and other great authorities, that "the tailor makes the man;" and he would be the most daring of sceptics who would endeavour to controvert this axiom. Your first duty, therefore, is to place yourself in the hands of some distinguished schneider, and from him take out your patent of gentility--for a man with an "elegant coat" to his back is like a bill at sight endorsed with a good name; whilst a seedy or ill-cut garment resembles a protested note of hand labelled "No effects." It will also be necessary for you to consult "The Monthly Book of Fashions," and to imitate, as closely as possible, those elegant and artistical productions of the gifted _burin_, which show to perfection "What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties!" &c.--You must not consult your own ease and taste (if you have any), for nothing is so vulgar as to suit your convenience in these matters, as you should remember that you dress to please others, and not yourself. We have heard of some eccentric individuals connected with noble families, who have departed from this rule; but they invariably paid the penalty of their rashness, being frequently mistaken for men of intellect; and it should not be forgotten, that any exercise of the mind is a species of labour utterly incompatible with the perfect man of fashion. The confiding characters of tailors being generally acknowledged, it is almost needless to state, that the _faintest_ indication of seediness will be fatal to your reputation; and as a presentation at the Insolvent Court is equally fashionable with that of St. James, any squeamishness respecting your inability to pay could only be looked upon as a want of moral courage upon your part, and [Illustration: UTTERLY UNWORTHY OF A GENTLEMAN.] [The subject of _dress in particular_ will form the subject of our next chapter.] * * * * * IF I HAD A THOUSAND A-YEAR. A BACHELOR'S LYRIC. If I had a thousand a-year, (How my heart at the bright vision glows!) I should never be crusty or queer, But all would be _couleur de rose_. I'd pay all my debts, though _outre_, And of duns and embarrassments clear, Life would pass like a bright summer day, If I had a thousand a-year. I'd have such a spicy turn-out, And a horse of such mettle and breed-- Whose points not a jockey should doubt, When I put him at top of his speed. On the foot-board, behind me to swing, A tiger so small should appear, All the nobs should protest "'twas the thing!" If I had a thousand a-year. A villa I'd have near the Park, From Town just an appetite-ride; With fairy-like grounds, and a bark O'er its miniature waters to glide. There oft, 'neath the pale twilight star, Or the moonlight unruffled and clear, My meerschaum I'd smoke, or cigar, If I had a thousand a-year.