“That great enchanter, at whose rod's command, Beauty springs forth, and nature's self turns paler; Seeing how art can make her work more grand, When she don't pin men's limbs in like a jailor.” Of course, I soon found one. My first few paces in the Strand brought me in front of a shop-window, within which were profusely displayed braided coats, epaulettes, sword-knots, and brass heel-spurs. I could no more have passed it, without entering, than could the camel of the desert a clear and gushing spring without dipping his nostrils into it. Although particularly directed, both by my father and mother, to order my regimentals from our family tailor, I immediately proceeded to the man of measures, who, at first, eyed me in a careless, tooth-picking sort of way; but when he learned the nature and purport of my visit, he became the most polite and complaisant of tailors. “I'm an Ensign in the army,” said I, “and I want a suit of uniform for the ——th regiment of the line.” “Thank you, _Captain_,” replied he, bowing and fidgetting, “I am much obliged to you, _Captain_, for the order; and I can assure you, _Captain_, that I can furnish you with every article of regimentals, of a superior quality, and at the shortest notice—_Captain_.” Although I was somewhat disgusted at the first appearance of inattention discovered by the tailor to a man of my rank, (for I thought any body could see I was an officer in the army, even through my sun-burnt coat,) yet his subsequent politeness, and even obsequiousness, joined to my anxiety to put on regimentals for the first time—but, above all, his dubbing me “_Captain_,” at once determined me to order my appointments from him. I soon concluded the business; my regimentals, complete, were to be ready and on my table at 12 o'clock the following day. Scarlet coat, with swallow tail, yellow facings, white pantaloons, silver lace epaulette, sword, sword-knot, sword-belt, and all, except hat, feather, and boots. But for present purposes, what was to be done? I felt that I ought to have something for _that_ evening to distinguish my rank. A fine braided military frock was hung up at the tailor's door, on which I seized, and forthwith jumped into it. “Let me assist you, _Captain_,” said the tailor. “There—what a fit! It was made for Colonel Mortimer, of the Dragoons. Let me button it up to the neck, _Captain_. There—may I never cut a coat, but it is a superb article, Captain; and as cheap at twelve pounds, as my shears for a penny.”