_Spacious Gentleman._—"Will you have the kindness, young man, to measure me for a pair of those at 12_s._?"] [Illustration: THE BRIDGE OF SIZE. ] WHAT DO ALL ENGLISHMEN TAKE OFF THEIR HATS TO?[8] Who is it that gets the most salutes in England? We do not mean the powder which is thundered into the Queen's ears wherever she goes, but the quiet salute which a person makes by taking his hat off. Now, every Englishman dislikes taking his hat off. It is a trouble, and no genuine John Bull likes more trouble than he can help. It must be something, then, of very great importance—of general love and feeling—a chord that strikes all Englishmen's hearts—that makes everybody, without a single exception, take his hat off to it? What can it be? Is it Prince Albert? No; for, familiar as the prints of His Royal Highness may have made his handsome face in the eyes of those who look into print shops, still, from love of retirement, he is not generally known by the public, and he could easily pass down Lowther Arcade without fear of being recognised. Who is it, then? Is it the Duke of Wellington? No. It is true he commands a number of upraised hats. All those who know his venerable nose, and know how much England is indebted to it, pay him that little mark of respect. But, popular as the Duke is, every one is not acquainted with him, and there are even a few who still nourish a dislike of his political opinions, forgetting the best part, and only recollecting the worst part, of the man. [Illustration: A GOOD PARTY CRY. ] Can it be a creditor? Certainly not; for debtors always make a practice of avoiding their creditors, especially those of a large amount, or one of the Hebrew persuasion. There may be a few who get a stray lift of the _chapeau_, by way of reconciliation, but in general the eyes of him that owes rarely meet the eyes of him to whom money is owing. We are all blind to our own interest, especially when we pay 10 per cent. for it. Perhaps it is the wind? Now, this is a vile quibble; for the reader knows well enough that no man takes off his hat to the wind. On the contrary, the whole energy of a man's ten fingers is concentrated on the rebellious rim, with the view of holding the fugitive castor on. The wind takes off many hats; it is repeatedly done on Waterloo Bridge, and round the corner of St. Paul's Churchyard—you will see it any day during March; but it is preposterous to say that a single hat is ever taken off to the wind. Well, then, what is it? Patience for ten lines, and you shall know. Growl, amiable reader, but read.