pale chamois crape. The corsage surrounded by a fall of the same, cut into dents, which widens on the shoulders into deep epaulettes. The lower part of the corsage plain to the shape. The sleeves of the full gigot form. The skirt is cut into meeting vandykes, bordered with piping of satin of the same colour; these form diamonds, which are very large at the bottom, and are gradually smaller to the belt. They show beneath a dress of satin, or gros de Naples, exactly the colour of the crape upper dress. The hair is high at the back of the head, with a few chamois gauze bows, curls on each side of the face. The ornaments are a silver corded chain, silver and white enamelled bracelets and buckle.

This dress is called, in Paris, the Robe à la Leontine.

(207.)-PROMENADE AND CARRIAGE DRESS. Small hat, somewhat approaching the bonnet form, called by the French modists cheapeau bibis. It is of white satin or white watered silk, trimmed with apple-green and white gauze ribbons, and surrounded with three full, but narrow ruches of white lace, and surmounted with two marabout plumes. The dress is made of apple-green gros de Naples, turning back as low as the bust and over the shoulders, with two deep pelerines, which fold to the left side. The skirt of the dress and the pelerines are entirely embroidered round with a scolloped pattern, in floss silk of a darker shade. The sleeves of the usual form, finished with worked manchettes of silk or cambric. The skirt opens in front; the dress beneath is white jaconet muslin worked at the bottom with delicate scollops and wreath, and with another wreath

at the knees. The corsage of the white dress is made à la chemisette, and worked, in a rayed pattern, that meets round the throat to correspond with the skirt. At the throat, a ruche of British lace. Fine cotton, or thread open-work stockings, with pink lamb's-wool socks beneath. Shoes of shot reps silk. Belt, a gros grains shot green and white; buckle, green enamel.

The marabouts are sometimes of a. pale green, and frequently tinted at the tips with green or rose colour.

(208.)-BRIDAL DRESS, OR FULL EVENING DRESS.-The hair in two high bows, wreathed together with a braid. Madonna bands on the forehead, and long ringlets at the side of the face. A lace scarf is arranged at the back of the hair, and falls on each side nearly as low as the hem of the dress. The robe is of white net, with application of Honiton sprigs, arranged in a beautiful pattern on the chest, sleeves, and skirt. The corsage à la chemisette, cut to show the neck, somewhat lower than the throat, and edged with narrow lace. The sleeves are not only of great fulness above the elbow, but are very large at the wrist. Scarf sash of white gauze satinee, tied in two bows in front with long ends, finished with silk tassels. Under dress of white satin, with very large round sleeves at the upper arm; the corsage low at the bust. Bouquet of white roses and orange blossoms. Silk stockings of open work, shoes of white moire, Four rows of large opals round the throat, opal bracelets and ear-rings.

As full evening dress, this beautiful' costume is worn with jasmine or tuberose flowers.

TO LADY ANNE C. birth; and when the Earl, your father, in a fit of aristocratic indignation, withdrew you and his family from his brilliant residence in Paris, at the ascension of the Citizen King, you were, at least, as much exiled at your native court, as the royal fugitives are at Holyrood. You sigh, you say, for the dear delights of the Theatre Italian-for the atmosphere of the salons, the enchanting gardens of Tivoli-for the modes of Paris-for Parisian literature-gossip, even

scandal, if it is but Parisian. You envy me, whom you are pleased to call a radiant bride, shining in the metropolis of the world of taste and fashion, and implore me, at least, to send you from that dear sojourn news that I know will interest you that wish, lovely Lady Anne, shall be complied with, on condition that you return these letters with details of every thing that is passing in the world of London, that dear abode of comfort and rationality. What would I give, what would I submit to, if fortune had destined me to be the mistress of an English fire-side, instead of living in an out-door whirl of Parisian life. I think (to speak in your style) I would even wear the clumsy fashions invented in London, and dress after fashion prints designed and finished by Englishmen!!! Now, you know I adore English genius, venerate English literature, prize English materials; but as to English taste in dress, alas! alas! when left to their own devices, it is lamentable, indeed. I am perfectly of Lord Mulgrave's opinion on that head, and so I am certain are you, and the whole elite of the Britlsh nobility: here our tastes agree. During our short domestication together at the Convent of where I went to perfect my French accent, almost forgotten in England, and you to recover your island language, among some noble pensionnaires of your own country our friendship was formed, I believe, by those little amicable disputes that naturally arose between an Anglicised French girl, and a Parisian English belle. Each possessed amor patriæ enough to be pleased with the other, for the love she bore her country; thus has our love been cemented, and, I trust, will strengthen with years and expanding intellect.

Send me, my friend, quires of lively English gossip; if your little petulant discontent makes you somewhat satirical, no matter, give me your opinion on literature, the fine arts, the adoptions of dress in your capital (for I will not allow you any fashions of your own)-any floating news among your courtly circle. There is more than one you will delight by this exertion of your lively talents. Remember, my dear girl, I have my husband's heart to win; my father, or rather my illustrious grand sire, bestowed my hand on Count Alfred de as a reward for his patriotic bravery in the three days; the man is handsome and good-tempered, has a strong Anglo-mania, which manifests itself by keeping a kennel full of English dogs, and a stud of English horses; he is very proud of my perfect pronunciation of English, and, considering (according to the custom that still prevails in France) that we were perfect strangers when we married, my lot might have been

worse-yet I wish to gain his friendship by reciprocity of tastes, therefore, my friend, aid me by giving me all the English intelligence you can. I mean to be bold enough to give you my opinions of all the books, pictures, and spectacles, of your beloved Paris.

This season has been fertile in works of genius. Barnave, Notre dame de Paris, Stello, and the Memoires de Muxime de Odin, have justly raised the fame of Jules Janin, Victor Hugo, de Vigny, and Charles Nodin, to a great height; these works are all of the romance species. I believe your Magazine, and its partner, the La Follet, has given you specimens of most of these both in French and English. A variety of celebrated novels and dramas have made their appearance this spring, founded on stories exceedingly repulsive to English morality. "Le Marriage sur L' Empire," by Mademoiselle Sophie Gay, Indiana," by Sands, and a novel with the affected title of "Sous les Filleuls" delineate passion for married women, or a lapse of duty in the ladies; these morals, I am happy to say, are not generally approved, even in Paris. Still, I must allow that the popularity of Alexander Dumas' malign drama of " Antony" led the way for this inbreak of evil principle in our literature. Thank Heaven, we are better than in the age of Louis XV.; in spite of the horrors of the revolution, a clearer moral atmosphere has arisen on France, and there are Frenchmen of the present day who would feel as much horror at the system of cicisbeism as Englishmen. I am sorry to see that one of your cleverest English authors, in his admiration of our manners and customs, has fallen into a similar error. Lord Mulgrave's new work, "The Contrast," which you sent me, is thoroughly imbued with it. Can his Lordship find no English loves worthy his attention, excepting those who violate the sacred tie of married faith? Now, such tastes are in English writers either from the pure love of vice, or from a servile imitation of the most worthless part of our literature yet we have, at last, some excuse, considering the manner in which our marriages are contracted. A single girl is still in France a non-entity; her inclinations are seldom consulted in disposing of her in marriage, and if she succeeds not in gaining the heart of the man to whom she is given, it is more than probable she will dispose of her own to some other person; hence arises the tendency in our French novels to depict interdicted passion, which is only too natural, considering the blameable manner in which marriages are contracted between young people. Do I not speak feelingly? I had a sedate English education, and, with an unoccupied heart, was given to an