plaint, we will use nothing of the sort. When we
go out, we will empanoply our persons, so that we may warm ourselves by
shutting in all exhalation from our bodies, and by husbanding what little
heat we permit nature to provide for us.

In summer we will eat rich dinners and drink wine, will cast off
three-fourths of the thickness of our winter clothing, and still be
oppressed by heat. Iced drinks shall take the place of fire.

Civilized people can not endure being much wetted. Contact of water,
during exercise, will do no harm to healthy bodies, but will spoil good
clothes. We will get damp only when we walk out in bad weather; then, when
we come home, we need no change. Evaporation from damp clothes--the act of
drying--while the body cools down, resting, and perhaps fatigued, that is
what damages the health; against that we have no objection.

Hem! No doubt it is taking a great liberty with a Briton to look over his
wardrobe. I will not trespass so far, but, my dear sir, your Hat! If we
are to have a column on our heads, let it be one in which we can feel
pride; a miniature monument; and we might put a statue on the top. Hats,
as they are now worn, would not fitly support more than a bust. Is not
this mean? On aegritudinary grounds we will uphold a hat. To keep the
edifice from taking flight before a puff of wind, it must be fitted pretty
tightly round the head, must press over the forehead and the occiput. How
much it presses, a red ring upon our flesh will often testify. Heads are
not made of putty; pressure implies impediment to certain processes
within; one of these processes is called the circulation of the blood. The
brain lies underneath our hats. Well, that is as it should be. Ladies do
not wear hats, and never will, the bonnet is so artful a contrivance for
encompassing the face with ornament; roses and lilies and
daffidowndillies, which would have sent Flora into fits, and killed her
long ago, had such a goddess ever been.

I said that there was brain under the hat; this is not always obvious, but
there is generally hair. Once upon a time, not very long ago, hair was
constructed with great labor into a huge tower upon every lady's head,
pomatum being used by way of mortar, and this tower was repaired every
three weeks. The British matron then looked like a "mop-headed Papuan."
The two were much alike, except in this, that while our countrywoman
triumphed in her art, the Papuan was discontented with his nat