s would
never be developed by a German Audrey (see 'As You Like It') content to
be treated as a doll by her lover, and viewing it as profane to wear
petticoats less voluminous, or a headdress less frightful than those
inherited from her grandmother.

Excuse this digression, reader. What I wished to explain was that, if a
man in a humble situation seeks to refine his pronunciation of English,
and finds himself in consequence taxed with pride that will not brook
the necessities of his rank, at all events, he is but _integrating_ his
manifestations of pride. Already in his Sunday's costume he has _begun_
this manifestation, and, as I contend, rightfully. If a carpenter or a
stonemason goes abroad on a railway excursion, there is no moral
obligation upon him--great or small--to carry about any memento
whatsoever of his calling. I contend that his right to pass himself off
for a gentleman is co-extensive with his power to do so: the right is
limited by the power, and by that only. The man may say justly: "What I
am seeking is a holiday. This is what I pay for; and I pay for it with
money earned painfully enough. I have a right therefore to expect that
the article shall be genuine and complete. Now, a holiday means freedom
from the pains of labour--not from some of those pains, but from all.
Even from the memory of these pains, if _that_ could be bought, and from
the anticipation of their recurrence. Amongst the pains of labour, a
leading one next after the necessity of unintermitting muscular effort,
is the oppression of people's superciliousness or of their affected
condescension in conversing with one whom they know to be a working
mechanic. From this oppression it is, from this oppression whether open
or poorly disguised, that I seek to be delivered. It taints my pleasure:
it spoils my holiday. And if by being dressed handsomely, by courtesy in
manners, and by accuracy in speaking English, I can succeed in obtaining
this deliverance for myself, I have a right to it." Undoubtedly he has.
His real object is not to disconnect himself from an honest calling, but
from that burthen of contempt or of slight consideration which the world
has affixed to his calling. He takes measures for gratifying his
pride--not with a direct or primary view to that pride, but indirectly
as the only means open to him for evading and defeating the unjust
conventional scorn that would settle upon himself _through_ his trade,
if that should happen t