, their vaccination orders--the
higher things of life they neglect.

I select at random another masterpiece of English literature.

"My dear," says Lady Montresor, with her light aristocratic laugh, "you
surely cannot seriously think of marrying a man who wears socks with
yellow spots?"

Lady Emmelina sighs.

"He is very nice," she murmurs, "but I suppose you are right. I suppose
that sort of man does get on your nerves after a time."

"My dear child," says Lady Montresor, "he is impossible."

In a cold sweat I rush upstairs into my bedroom.

I thought so: I am always wrong. All my best socks have yellow spots. I
rather fancied them. They were expensive, too, now I come to think of
it.

What am I to do? If I sacrifice them and get red spots, then red spots,
for all I know, may be wrong. I have no instinct. The fashionable
novelist never helps one. He tells us what is wrong, but he does not
tell us what is right. It is creative criticism that I feel the need of.
Why does not the Lady Montresor go on? Tell me what sort of socks the
ideal lover ought to wear. There are so many varieties of socks. What
is a would-be-gentleman to do? Would it be of any use writing to the
fashionable novelist:--

How we might, all of us, be Gentlemen.

"Dear Mr. Fashionable Novelist (or should it be Miss?),--Before going to
my tailor, I venture to write to you on a subject of some importance. I
am fairly well educated, of good family and address, and, so my friends
tell me, of passable appearance. I yearn to become a gentleman. If it
is not troubling you too much, would you mind telling me how to set about
the business? What socks and ties ought I to wear? Do I wear a flower
in my button-hole, or is that a sign of a coarse mind? How many buttons
on a morning coat show a beautiful nature? Does a stand-up collar with a
tennis shirt prove that you are of noble descent, or, on the contrary,
stamp you as a _parvenu_? If answering these questions imposes too great
a tax on your time, perhaps you would not mind telling me how you
yourself know these things. Who is your authority, and when is he at
home? I should apologize for writing to you but that I feel you will
sympathize with my appeal. It seems a pity there should be so many
vulgar, ill-bred people in the world when a little knowledge on these
trivial points would enable us all to become gentlemen. Thanking you in
anticipation, I remain . . . "

Wou