Concerning the Duties of a Valet--And a Man

"And now, Peterby," said Barnabas, pushing his chair from the
breakfast table, "the first thing I shall require is--a tailor."

"Very true, sir."

"These clothes were good enough for the country, Peterby, but--"

"Exactly, sir!" answered Peterby, bowing.

"Hum!" said Barnabas, with a quick glance. "Though mark you," he
continued argumentatively,--"they might be worse, Peterby; the fit
is good, and the cloth is excellent. Yes, they might be a great deal
worse."

"It is--possible, sir," answered Peterby, with another bow. Hereupon,
having glanced at his solemn face, Barnabas rose, and surveyed
himself, as well as he might, in the tarnished mirror on the wall.

"Are they so bad as all that?" he inquired.

Peterby's mouth relaxed, and a twinkle dawned in his eye.

"As garments they are--serviceable, sir," said he, gravely,
"but as clothes they--don't exist."

"Why then," said Barnabas, "the sooner we get some that do,--the
better. Do you know of a good tailor?"

"I know them all, sir."

"Who is the best--the most expensive?"

"Stultz, sir, in Clifford Street; but I shouldn't advise you to
have him."

"And why not?"

"Because he is a tailor."

"Oh?" said Barnabas.

"I mean that the clothes he makes are all stamped with his
individuality, as it were,--their very excellence damns them. They
are the clothes of a tailor instead of being simply a gentleman's
garments."

"Hum!" said Barnabas, beginning to frown at this, "it would seem
that dress can be a very profound subject, Peterby."

"Sir," answered Peterby, shaking his head, "it is a life study, and,
so far as I know, there are only two people in the world who
understand it aright; Beau Brummell was one, and, because he was the
Beau, had London and the World of Fashion at his feet."