Vanity, so we think, is leading woman to wickedly waste her life by a pernicious system of dress; yet wherever she proposes to pattern after ours, we go into such agonizing hysterics that, not wishing to be guilty of cruelty to animals, she refrains. Perhaps we realize that our system of dress is quite as absurd as that of woman, sacrifices comfort to vanity even more, and we do not care to have her discover this fact.

Is it possible that the order of nature which obtains among all other animals is reversed in man? that, while among all things else that inhabit the earth, sea or air the male has more than a moiety of the vanity and love of display, in the case of the human race the female got it all and her escort was lifted far above all such weaknesses and vanities? Behold the quiet turkey-hen and her ostentatious lord! the modest pea-hen and her vainglorious mate! Run over all the feathered tribe, all the things that go on two legs, and you will find that it is the male that puts on the style for the establishment; obtrudes himself into public notice and says plainly as actions can, "Behold what a thing of beauty am I!"

Stand with me upon this street-corner for a moment and let us observe masculinity as it moves by and see if it be devoid of vanity—if its apparel be such that it can, without suggesting the mote and beam parable, criticize the health-corsets and high-heeled shoes, bangs and bustles of femininity.

What is this? A man truly; at least God made it, and we must perforce let it pass for such. Let us see what it has upon its outside; we may thereby obtain some shadowy adumbration of what is within, for the character of men may be read in their clothes. First, closely cropped hair with a tuft in front like the handle of a gourd, which it evidently is. Next, a "stove-pipe" or silk hat. Did you

ever consider what a silk hat signifies? Not comfort, surely; not convenience, for nothing more awkward or troublesome could be devised. Vanity, pure and simple! That thing we call a head, because it is the upper terminus of a bipedal organism, imagines it looks well in such gear; perhaps some mischievous girl, who is studying natural history and makes a specialty of freaks, told it so, in which event, depend upon it, it would wear it were it more galling than a Nessus shirt. We may pass by the moustachios, bearing unmistakable evidence of curl-paper or the barber's irons; the stand-up collar, stiff as sheet-iron, an instrument of torture; the "Prince Albert," which he wears closebuttoned in warm weather and cold, probably to display his shape, possibly to prevent thoughtless or mischievous people sticking their fingers into him-saying naught of its padding, or the tightly laced corset which it sometimes covers; the pantaloons that snugly fit or idly flap according to the fiat of fashion; the small boots groaning with their plethora of big feet;-but what of his diamond pins and big seal rings? Does he wear these for comfort? Could he more plainly say to all the world, "I would be beautiful; hence I adorn myself,”—even were he a woman? What of the big cane which he carries? Is that the result of vanity also, or simply a survival of the gorilla, stickcarrying age, an aggravated case of atavism?

If bad goes before worse remains behind! Here comes a squat little man in "plug" hat and sack coat, a face like newly-risen moon, sailing down with wonderful breadth of beam and more dignity than a Lord Chief Justice! Observe him! He too is in love with his own shape; he too, like the turkey-cock, which he somewhat resembles, is saying to all the world," Am I not worth scrutiny?" Verily

he is. If we could but preserve him in some manner and transmit him to remote posterity that subsequent age would scornfully reject the Simian Theory of human origin, and the theorem that man is the lineal descendant of the bull-frog would be solemnly taught in all 'varsities by learned professors.

And, after all, may it not be the true one? Man's progress is said to be due to his striving toward greatness, and is it not a manner of record that frogs also have their aspirations? Did not one try to make himself big as a bull? True, the effort resulted in disaster; but its fellows, warned thereby, may have set out for an easier goal; have put on "plug" hats and breeches and posed, with much dignity, as “able editors"-disturbing the whole world with their croaking.

Yet what is man that he should be vain? What excuse can this poor, forked radish with fantastically carved head-as Swift calls him-offer for arraying himself in purple and fine linen, plug hat and other outlandish and uncomfortable gear and, with barbaric ornaments and gorilla-stick, strutting abroad, smiling, smirking, posing, the vainest thing beneath high heaven-woman not excepted; a veritable rag-screen or clothes-horse, a freak to amaze the gods!

66

***

MINISTERIAL SPORTS."

FOR some years past pugilists and prostitutes have been making a desperate effort to "elevate the stage"; but those white-stoled apostles of reform have shamefully neglected the rostrum. Occasionally a bogus nun from some bagnio, an unfrocked priest "out for the stuff," or a broken-down politician jacks the lecture platform up a

notch or two; but it has received comparatively little attention from those who are known only because of their brutal sins against society. At last, however, the labor has been undertaken by a brace of reformers well equipped for the task, and we may soon expect to see the lyceum lifted bodily to that exalted level occupied by the "legshow." From a small but lurid-complexioned hand-bill which came drifting through the mails, I learn that a "Grand Lecture was to be worked off on the unprotected inhabitants of Hempstead some days ago "by Rev. E. H. Harman and Rev. W. Wimberly, the so-called Ministerial Sports who were charged with a Galveston Escapade." Also that the people were besought to “turn out" and cough up fifty cents each for the sweet privilege of listening to the "Grand Lecture" aforesaid, which these enterprising divines solemnly promise to make “interesting." It did not occur to me last September, when I called the attention of the Texas people to these meek and lowly men of God, that I was raising a tide which they would take at the flood and float on to fortunethat with a bark labeled "Ministerial Sports," and "Galveston Escapade " for oriflamme, they would proudly steer for the Fortunate Isles and carve their names with a paint brush on the very apex of the pillar of Fame. Rev. W. Wimberly was—and may be yet for aught I know— pastor of a Methodist church at Brenham, Texas, and Rev. E. H. Harman presiding elder of that district. When the Epworth League held its conference at Galveston last summer these godly men went down to assist in ladling out saving grace. It appears, however, that they found more congenial employment, for the local press was soon teeming with the "Escapade" which they now employ to conjure the dollar of our daddies out of the pockets of the people. They were accused of frequenting bawdy houses

and beating hack bills, absorbing more booze than they could comfortably carry and otherwise setting a pace which even the shoestring gambler and the goddess infidel found it difficult to follow. Upon their return to Brenham the board of stewards proceeded to call them to account, and was confronted by the most remarkable defense known to theological jurisprudence. They admitted having taken in the Galveston honk-a-tonks; but explained that they were looking for Dr. Wimberly's sister, whom the latter proved, by extracts from the daily press, was a notorious prostitute! Just what they wanted with her I do not remember. They may have yearned to reform her; or they may have desired to strike her for a "stake." Or these new Knights of the Round Table (the pattern chiefly used by Galveston publicans) may have gone on a "quest," as did Sir Galahad for the Holy Grail-with no idea of appropriating the property. Instead of going to the chief of police, ascertaining exactly where the erring woman could be found and having a quiet interview with her, they hired a night-hack and proceeded to play private detective by doing the various dives. The charge of boozing was transferred to the shoulders of two bold, bad brothers of Dr. Wimberly, who were likewise looking for their long-lost sister, and drowning their disappointment in drink. The story, improbable as it may appear, is possibly true in every particular; but if so, it serves to demonstrate that Revs. Harman and Wimberly should be tapped for the simples. A pair of the veriest " yaps from Baylor University would have known better than to compromise themselves by making such an idiotic break. If the story is true, Harman should be unfrocked for being a fool, and Wimberly for conduct unbecoming a Christian and a gentleman in trying to shield himself behind a sister's shame. A professional pander would have manifested more