(_An Apologue with an Application._)
[A lady-bicyclist the other day, riding in "rational dress,"
was roundly hissed by an elderly Mrs. GRUNDY, standing by. The
wheel-woman is said to have retorted, "Are you _women_ who thus
hiss me? When you bathe, you wear a special costume, which you deem
suitable. When I ride, I do the same. Where's the difference?"]
[Illustration]
"But," said the Proud Briton to the Perfect Stranger, "in addition to
our armies and fleets, our religions and our laws, our parsons and our
policemen, we have one Protective Power, moral palladium and social ægis
in one, whose value outweighs that of all others."
The Perfect Stranger looked surprised.
"And what," said he, "is that?"
"We call it the 'Matron's Hiss,'" replied the Proud Briton, with
enigmatical complacency. "Anything _contra bonos mores_, bad form,
improper, new-fangled, unconventional, unhealthy, unwholesome, immodest,
vulgar, vicious, venal, on to summarise still further, anything that is
either new or naughty, or both, is immediately 'put down' by the
'Matron's Hiss.'"