COULD

OULD Polonius have had the opportunity of visiting our little town during the past winter, what a splendid instance of a garment "expressed in fancy" would he have found in that combination of style, beauty, elegance and comfort, which was so often seen on Chapel street. Can you have missed it? Another blow for the "gigantic intellect of the inventor!" Not seen it-the Ulster, the silk hat, the white tie, the top boots? Miserable man, pray for another winter, that sees the symbolization of the four seasons, the day and the night—a combination unequalled by even Harry Bloodgood! The reason for it. A collegian must be stylish, yet not so rigged out as to feel all starched up and stiffened; so we have the white necktie and the silk hat for style, the Ulster and top boots for comfort. Laugh, if you please, but remember the dollar tool chest with a hundred different VOL. XL. 54

combinations. Consider for a moment the advantages of such a costume. For college duties the wearer is well prepared, at least so far as his attire is concerned. The Ulster and the top-boots save him from the reputation of a fop. Should he desire to call, the silk hat is his salvation. If a ball is stupid or a dinner wearisome without his lively conversation and pleasant manners, he is ready to retrieve the day on the shortest notice, and the topboots and Ulster are over-shadowed by the glory of the white tie. He bears his motto with characteristic modesty, and to a compliment simply says "Maximum in minimo." Perhaps, this instance seems exaggerated, but it is not, I assure you. College men rush to the one extreme or the other. The Bowery or "Five Points" on the one hand; the Presbyterian Synod or Sing Sing on the other. There is no happy mean, no "rich, not gaudy," no careful consideration of expense. Extravagance or parsimony is as plainly expressed in the clothes of the majority as good sense and reasonable economy are in the clothes of the few. Flaming scarfs and enormous checks have a charm for the collegiate eye, and are in sympathy with the bangers and street rows.

Another phase of college dress is often seen in the affectation of the eccentricities of a class of men whose dress is the result of their habits. Some one has heard that Van Dyke wore a large brimmed hat, that Rubens' favorite garment was a cloak; straightway an enormous hat and beaver cape are purchased; art is chosen for a profession, and one more is added to our menagerie. Bohemianism, too, has its devotees, at least in dress and beer. A slouch hat, buttonless coat, unblacked shoes, red necktie and a diamond pin entitle any one to the entrèe of the best beer saloons in town. Broadcloth clothes and long hair mark the tastes of others, so that no class statistician is needed to count at least this one set of men.

In the clothes of a collegian there is always something which, even apart from his manners, renders him known to all trained observers. No one can tell what it is, at least so as to describe it. It seems like the "outward expression of his inward feelings" on the subject of dress;