The female of the species seems in a fair way to become less gorgeous than the male, if the latest reports from Paris can be taken as at all definitive in the matter of masculine attire. A day or so ago, there appeared at the Bourse, just at the moment when business activity was at its highest, a young man dressed in an extraordinary costume consisting of buckled shoes, long silk stockings, satin knee-breeeches, an ordinary vest and sack coat, a felt hat, and a cane. For a few moments business stopped and the crowd stared at his costume and admired his courage and then in contradistinction to the enthusiast who became so enamored of classical culture that he wandered about the streets of New York in the costume of the ancient Greeks until the police laid hands on him he went his way.

No longer, it can clearly be seen, will men be content with the sober greys and browns and blacks of common use. No longer will the proud possessor of a "well turned calf" hide it in flapping cylinders, or at best set it forth to little advantage under plus fours. It is only a question of time, and of the advent of a man of spirit, before the black and white of evening dress gives way to silken hose and satin knee-breeches, vests of gorgeous brocade and cloaks of rainbow colors.