A NOOK IN THE ALLEGE AN lES 171 



bargaining, while the proprietor and his 

 clerks — two of them smoking cigarettes — 

 bustled to and fro behind the counters, im- 

 proving the shining hour. One strapping 

 young colored man standing near me in- 

 quired for suspenders, and, on having an 

 assortment placed before him, selected with- 

 out hesitation (it is a good customer who 

 knows his own mind) a brilliant yellow pair 

 embroidered or edged with equally brilliant 

 red. Having bought them, at an outlay of 

 twelve cents, he proceeded to the piazza, 

 where he took off his coat and put them on. 

 That was what he had bought them for. 

 His taste was impressionistic, I thought. 

 He believed in the primary colors. And 

 why quarrel with him ? " Dear child of 

 Nature, let them rail," I was ready to say. 

 It is not Mother Nature, but Dame Fash- 

 ion, another person altogether, and a most 

 ridiculous old body, who prescribes that 

 masculine humanity shall never consider it- 

 self " dressed " except in funereal black and 

 white. 



What Nature herself thinks of colors, and 

 what freedom she uses in mixing them, was 

 to be newly impressed upon me this very 



