And said to myself, as I lit my cigar, "Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days, On the whole do you think he would have much to spare If he married a woman with nothing to wear?"

Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls. Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in; Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in, Dresses in which to do nothing at all; Dresses for Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall; All of them different in color and shape. Silk, muslin, and lace, velvet, satin, and crape, Brocade and broadcloth, and other material, Quite as expensive and much more ethereal.

Fine clothes are good only as they supply the want of other means of procuring respect.

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square, Has made three separate journeys to Paris, And her father assures me each time she was there That she and her friend Mrs. Harris . . . Spent six consecutive weeks, without shopping In one continuous round of shopping,-- . . . And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day This merchandise went on twelve carts, up Broadway, This same Miss McFlimsey of Madison Square The last time we met was in utter despair Becasue she had nothing whatever to wear.

But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare, When at the same moment she had on a dress Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less, And jewelry worth tem times more, I should guess, That he had not a thing in the wide world to wear!

Who seems most hideous when adorned the most. [Lat., Che quant' era piu ornata, era piu brutta.]