"Tp," says Scarron, "neither the Pyra-"mids of Egypt nor the Colosseum at "Rome could withstand the injury of "time, why should I think much that "my black waistcoat is out at elbows This reflection, which is not without a certain point and propriety, may comfort and console. many residents in China when suffering from one of those minor miseries which acidulate life.
We refer to the dilapidation and deterioration of our wearing apparel and the consequent expenditure and inconvenience which result. Shanghai has three Thalabas, or Destroyers—the Climate, the Washerman, and the House Boy. It is not easy to decide which of the three works the wildest and most irreparable havoc in our wardrobes.
The damage wrought by Climate is a fact alike patent and painful. One's boots are covered with a corroding green damp, like verdigris on an old cannon. Our gloves are speckled and spoiled, and our woollen clothes mildewed in a night. The Washerman, however, is the most ruinous and dire waster of our goods. He iron-moulds the fronts of erewhile glossy shirts. He rends off buttons, or breaks them with the flat-iron (the only sarcasm he understands is this flat irony.) He tears our pocket-handkerchiefs into fragments, He frays the edges of our white ties. He stiffens our patrol jackets, so that we feel habitually like men in buckram. He tears out the button-holes in our collars, and elongates our cotton socks until they would nearly fit Chang. The House-boy is monotonous in his onslaughts. Ho does not mar or injure our goods. He simply removes them one by one from our keeping, and charges himself with the guardianship of them. We are believed to have given them to him as testimonials of regard and proofs of affection. Non rapi sed recep is his motto, From the ce-operation of these three causes, there can be no doubt that it is extremely difficult to keep one's-self in repair in China, We are not speaking of those moral dilapidations to which flesh is heir, but confine ourselves to the casualties and misfortunes that befal one's clothes. Ifa fire or any sudden alarm takes place, which calls the dweller in Shanghai from his mosquito-hindered sleep all on a sudden, he finds this out only too clearly. The bell clangs in his ears; he arouses himself from a dream that early shipments have paid, by a vigorous effort, and obeys the summons to put on "manly readiness." But.here his difficulties begin. Ho could put on his socks slowly and carefully in broad daylight, for he knew by what skilful pilotage he could guide his way between' the holes. He knows his way fairly about his other clothes in the day, but in dubious light it isa difficult task, and he is soon aware by painful experience that his wardrobe is by no means in the complete condition that it was when ho left home. He feels often when going out to dinner, a thing of shreds and patches. The edge of his shirt collar is serrated and jagged, and cuts his neck, The buttons which should sustain his braces are Jacking, the button holes of the aforesaid braces do not embrace the button with any firmness of grasp. The loops. on which the right adjustment of his drawers depends are insecure, and these useful specimens of dual garmenture drop about his andes. Large holes of the size and character vulgarly known as " potatoes," gape in the heels of his stockings.
We are of course prepared to admit that the outside aspect of the Shanghai resident, when "got up" for a din-nor party, is unexceptionable. But we fear he is too often "beautiful onto wardly," but with secret rifts, hidden chasms, hurriedly stitched up apertures,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.