oma of M. D. is
worth its price for display before the eyes of the patients waiting in
the "doctor's" office, while to Squeers of Dotheboys Hall the degree of
A. M. is good for at least three new pupils, and Ph. D. for a dozen. I
presume that in some of the foreign magazines and weekly newspapers of a
certain class, D. D. or L.L. D. has a real cash value of at least five
per cent. more in pay, or perhaps it may turn the scale in favor of an
article which, without that honorary signature, might be put in the
waste-paper basket. So long as such practical results can be had the
diploma trade is likely to flourish, with full variety offered to
buyers.

Now, it is not impossible to turn to trade account an Order of the
Elephant, of the Iron Crown, of the Legion of Honor, or of the
Medjidieh, as probably shrewd mechanics,contractors, and tradesmen in
America and England can attest. But while this is an additional
inducement to buyers, I am sure the new industry appeals to a loftier
emotion than that of mere money-making. America, in fact, is ripe for
this improvement. The modern phrase of ambition here in America is
"social status;" and dealers in heraldry are doing a business so
thriving in coats of arms for seal rings and scented note-paper, that I
fancy it is this that has suggested the trade in noble titles. The
village of Podunk looks down on the neighboring town of Hardscrabble.
"Hardscrabble," say the scornful Podunkers, "plumes itself on its
wealth, but Podunk prides herself on her birth--on her extremely old
families!" In fact you find all over the republic people talking of
their aristocratic families, and their "refined neighborhood," and
"refined birth"--even where, after all, it may be only a case of refined
petroleum.

Here, then, is the sphere and the opportunity for the enterprising
middleman. He appeals to a tuft-hunting instinct so deep in human nature
that the mere surface difference of republic or monarchy hardly touches
it. In a London church you will see a pew full of ladies' maids, and
presently there is a great crowding and squeezing, and a low whisper of
"make room for Lady Philippa." It is only another lady's maid joining
her friends; but they all get titles by reflection. Turn from this scene
to the New York area steps, and the artful little rascal who is peddling
strawberries, says to Bridget, who answers the bell, "Have some berries,
_lady_?" knowing that this will make a market, if anything can