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WHEN Brummell was the great oracle on coats, the Duke of Leinster was
very anxious to bespeak the approbation of the Emperor of the Dandies
for a cut which he had just patronized. The Duke, in the course of his
eulogy on his Schneider, had frequent occasion to use the words my
coat.--Your coat, my dear fellow, said Brummell: what coat?--Why,
this coat, said Leinster; this coat that I have on. Brummell, after
regarding the vestment with an air of infinite scorn, walked up to the
Duke, and taking the collar between his finger and thumb, as if fearful
of contamination,--What, Duke, do you call that thing a coat?

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