His ideal was an enormous hat, large at the crown, small below, broad in the brim, and curved far down behind and before; in a word, the historic heirloom to which the founder of Bolivia gave his name long ago.

The shop had to be turned upside down, and all its recesses searched, to find what he wanted.
"At last," cried the hatter, "here's your article.

If it's for a stage dress, you ought to be satisfied; the comic effect can be depended upon." Fougas answered dryly, that the hat was much less ridiculous than all those which were then circulating around the streets of Paris.
At the celebrated tailor's, in the _Rue de la Paix_, there was almost a battle.
"No, monsieur," said Alfred, "I'll never make you a frogged surtout and a pair of trousers _a la Cosaque_! Go to Babin, or Morean, if you want a carnival dress; but it shall never be said that a man of as good figure as yours left our establishment caricatured." "Thunder and guns!" retorted Fougas.

"You're a head taller than I am, Mister Giant, but I'm a colonel of the Grand Empire, and it won't do for drum-majors to give orders to colonels!" Of course, the devil of a fellow had the last word.

His measure was taken, a book of costumes consulted, and a promise made that in twenty-four hours he should be dressed in the height of the fashion of 1813.