THE NOBLE SCIEXCE. 127 



A blue, or coloured neckcloth, is all well enough for a 

 morning dress, with a scarlet coat ; but if one greater 

 atrocity can be committed than another, in shape of a 

 mesalliance in dress, it is that of a black cravat, with 

 top boots — no one, with the remotest pretensions to 

 taste, could thus commit himself; but, as such things 

 have been, I mention them only as a warning to any 

 not aware of the snobbish effect of such a contrast ; 

 knowing that this opinion is beyond the reach of con- 

 troversy. With regard to boots, our ancestors thought 

 with the poet — 



" Man wants but little here below, 

 Nor wants that little long;" 



but now, the neat top-boot must give way to the cum- 

 brous jack of the French postilion. 



The skill of Hammond, and of Anderson, is now a 

 cipher — "their occupation's gone." Leslie may con- 

 tinue his useful labours on the Poor-law ; but the 

 matchless, I should say the inexpressible, fitting of the 

 knee no longer claims his care. Indolence, and the 

 rage for dispensing with manual labour, have supplied 

 the long black boot, approaching to the hip ; this may 

 be very convenient, as it undoubtedly is to the horse- 

 dealers, who pull them over their dirty fustians ; one 

 pair may furnish the itinerant sportsman, who carries 

 his wardrobe on his person, for the week — nay, beyond 

 this, they are, I believe, in favour and in use with some, 

 of such standing that I must not presume to abuse 



