24 May 1856

A FERN LEAF FOR THE MEN.

"By your leave, gentlemen."—OLD PLAY.

The men have all had a time of it over the women's fashions. All right—they are ridiculous—but how is it with the men's? They don't approve of hoops. Every mother's son of 'em wears a strip of morocco, or some other stiffening in the hems of his trouser-legs, to make them stand out. Don't I know?

They disapprove of superfluous trimmings on ladies' bonnets: Well and good; but they have all made footmen of themselves this spring, by wearing a broad band of black velvet "all around their hat." Don't I know?

They think ladies' dresses should suit their style, size and figure: Do they? Every male Anakim you meet wears the waist of his coat up under his arm-pits, because his tailor tells him to. Don't I knnow?

They are disgusted with the lengthened skirts of ladies' dresses: They, themselves, go waddling about the streets with their coat=tails flapping against their heels, till a Roman Catholic priest, or and Andover Theological Student, is a fool to 'em. Don't I know?

Oh course, they never step into Phalon's to have their locks twisted with the curling tongs, under pretence of "getting Shampooed"——Pooh!

Of course, they don't diligently read the newspaper all the time, and then ask the barber, with an innocent start of astonishment, when he gets through, "What the d—ogs he has been doing to their hair?" Oh no!

Of course, the military gentlemen never pad out the breasts of their coats till they look like trussed Thanksgiving turkeys! Oh no!

Of course, the men never wear false mustaches, or "gutta percha paddings for lanter jaws," and never dye their whiskers, or beards, or hair, every Saturday night, and refuse all invitations to visit, the latter part of the week! Oh no! Sensible fellows, every mother's son of 'em. Bless—their—p-r-e-c-i-o-u-s, g-r-e-a-t, b-i-g s-o-u-l-s!

FANNY FERN.