avalry, who alone are ordered to display that ornamental
exuberance. Foreigners, military or non-military, are recognized as
wearing hair on the upper lip with propriety, as is the custom of their
country. But no gentleman here thinks of such a thing, any more than he
would think of sporting the uniform of the Tenth Hussars.

There is an affectation among the vulgar clever, of wearing the
_moustache_, which they clip and cut _a la Vandyk_: this is useful, as
affording a ready means of distinguishing between a man of talent and an
ass--the former, trusting to his head, goes clean shaved, and looks like
an Englishman: the latter, whose strength lies altogether in his hair,
exhausts the power of Macassar in endeavouring to make himself as like
an ourang-outang as possible.

Another thing must be observed by all who would successfully ape the
gentleman: never to smoke cigars in the street in mid-day. No better
sign can you have than this of a fellow reckless of decency and
behaviour: a gentleman smokes, if he smokes at all, where he offends not
the olfactories of the passers-by. Nothing, he is aware, approaches more
nearly the most offensive personal insult, than to compel ladies and
gentlemen to inhale, after you, the ejected fragrance of your penny Cuba
or your three-halfpenny mild Havannah.

In the cities of Germany, where the population almost to a man inhale
the fumes of tobacco, street smoking is very properly prohibited; for
however agreeable may be the sedative influence of the Virginian weed
when inspired from your own manufactory, nothing assuredly is more
disgusting than inhalation of tobacco smoke at second-hand.

Your undoubted man of fashion, like other animals, has his peculiar
_habitat_: you never see him promenading in Regent Street between the
hours of three and five in the afternoon, nor by any chance does he
venture into the Quadrant: east of Temple Bar he is never seen except on
business, and then, never on foot: if he lounges any where, it is in
Bond Street, or about the clubs of St James's.

OF PRETENDERS TO FASHION.

"Their conversation was altogether made up of Shakspeare,
taste, high life and the musical glasses."--_Vicar of
Wakefield_.

We will venture to assert, that in the course of these essays on the
aristocracies of London life, we have never attempted to induce any of
our readers to believe that there was any cause for him to regret,
whatever condition of life it had