There were no smiles to welcome him, Time pass'd-and when he came again He told her of his household band, And then one from amid the throng OLIVE HATHAWAY. A VILLAGE SKETCH-BY MISS MITFORD. (From the "Pledge of Friendship.") One of the principal charms of this North of Hampshire county consists in the infinite variety of woody lanes, which wind along from farm to farm, and from field to field, intersecting each other with an intricacy so perplexing, and meandering with such a surprising round-aboutness, that one often seems turning one's back directly on the spot to which one is bound. For the most part, these rough and narrow ways, devoted merely to agricultural purposes, are altogether unpeopled, although here and there a lone barn forms a characteristic termination to some winding lane, or a solitary habitation adds a fresh interest to the picture. These lanes, with their rich hedge-rows, their slips of flowery greensward, and their profound feeling of security and retirement, have long been amongst my favorite walks; and Farley-lane is, perhaps, the prettiest and pleasantest of all—the shadiest in warm weather, and the most sheltered in cold, and appears doubly delightful by the transition from the exposed and open common from which it leads. It is a deep, narrow, unfrequented road, by the side of a steep hill, winding between small enclosures of pasture-land on one side, and the grounds of the great house, with their picturesque paling and rich plantations, on the other; the depth and undulations of the wild cart-track giving a singularly romantic and secluded air to the whole scene, whilst occasionally the ivied pollards and shining hollybushes of the hedge-row mingle with the laurels and cedars and fine old firs of the park, forming, even in mid-winter, a green arch over head, and contrasting vividly with a little sparkling spring, which runs gurgling along by the side of the pathway. Towards the centre of the lane rises an irregular thatched cottage, with a spacious territory of garden and orchard, to which you ascend, first by a single plank thrown across the tiny rivulet, and then by five or six steep steps cut in the bank-an earthen staircase. This has been, as long as I can remember, the habitation of old Rachael Strong, a laundress of the highest reputation in Aberleigh, and of her young neice, Olive Hathaway. It is just possible that my liking for the latter of these personages may have somewhat biassed my opinion of the beauty of Farley lane. Olive Hathaway has always appeared to me a very interesting creature. Lame from her earliest childhood, and worse than an orphan,—her mother being dead, and her father, from mental infirmity, incapable of supplying her place, she seemed prematurely devoted to care and suffering. Always gentle and placid, no one ever remembered to have seen Olive gay. Even that merriest of all hours-the noonday play-time at school-passed gravely and sadly with the little lame girl. A book, if she could borrow one, if not, knitting or working for her good aunt Rachael, was her only pastime. She had no troop of playfellows, no chosen companions,-joined in none of the innocent cabal or mischievous mirth of her comrades; and yet every one liked Olive, even although cited by her mistress as a pattern of sempstresship and good conduct-even although held up as that odious thing, a model-no one could help loving poor Olive, so entirely did her sweetness and humility disarm envy and mollify scorn. On leaving school, she brought home the same good qualities, and found them attended by the same results. To Rachael Strong, her assistance soon became invaluable. There was not such an ironer in the county. One could swear to the touch of her skilful fingers, whether in disentangling the delicate complexity of a point lace cap, or in bringing out the bolder beauties of a cut-work collar,-one could swear to her handy-work just as safely as a bank-clerk may do to the calligraphy of a monied man on Change, or an amateur in art to the handling of a great master. There was no mistaking her touch. Things ironed by her looked as good as new, some said better; and her aunt's trade throve apace. But Olive had a trade of her own. Besides her accomplishments as a laundress, she was an incomparable needle woman; could construct a shirt between sunrise and sunset; had a genuine genius for mantua-making; a real taste for millinery; was employed in half the houses round as a sempstress, at the rate of eightpence a day; devoting by far the greater part of her small earnings to the comforts of her father, a settled inhabitant of the workhouse at Aberleigh. A harmless and a willing creature was poor William Hathaway; aye, and a useful one in his little way; for my part, I cannot think what they would have done without him at the workhouse, where he filled the several departments of man and maid of allwork, digging the garden, dressing the dinner, running on errands, and making the beds. Still less can I imagine how the boys could have dispensed with him; the ten-year old urchins, with whom he played at cricket every evening, and where the kind and simple old man, with his lean tall person, his pale withered face, and grizzled beard, was the fag and favorite of the party, the noisiest and merriest of the crew. A useful and a happy man was poor William Hathaway, albeit the proud and the worldly wise hold him in scorn; happiest of all on the Sunday afternoons, when he came to dine with his daughter and her good aunt Rachael, and receive the pious dole, the hoarded half-pence, or the splendid shilling," which it was her delight to accumulate for his little pleasures, and which he, child-like in all his ways, spent like a child, on cakes and gingerbread. There was no fear of the source failing; for gentle, placid, grateful and humble, considerate beyond her years, and skilful far beyond her opportunities, every one liked to employ Olive Hathaway. The very sound of her crutch in the court, and her modest tap at the door, inspired a kindly, almost a tender, feeling for the afflicted and defenceless young creature whom patience and industry were floating so gently down the rough stream of life. Her person, when seated was far from unpleasant, though shrunken and thin from delicacy of habit, and slightly leaning to one side, from the constant use of the crutch. Her face was interesting from feature and expression, in spite of the dark and 66 perfectly colourless complexion, which gave her the appearance of being much older than she really was. Her eyes, especially, were full of sweetness and power, and her long straight hair, parted on the forehead, and twisted into a thick knot behind, gave a statue-like grace to her head, that accorded ill with the coarse straw bonnet and brown stuff gown, of which her dress was usually composed. There was, in truth, a something, elegant and refined in her countenance; and the taste that she displayed, even in the homeliest branches of her own homely art, fully sustained the impression produced by her appearance. If any of our pretty damsels wanted a particularly pretty gown, she had only to say to Olive, "make it according to your own fancy;" and she was sure to be arrayed, not only in the very best fashion, (for our little mantua-maker had an instinct which led her at once to the right model, and could distinguish at a glance between the elegance of a countess and the finery of her maid,) but with the nicest attention to the becoming, both in colour and in form. Her taste was equally just in all things. She would select, in a moment, the most beautiful flower in a garden, and the finest picture in a room; and going about, as she did, all over the village, hearing new songs and new stories from the young, and old tales and old ballads from the aged, it was remarkable that Olive, whose memory was singularly tenacious for what she liked, retained only the pretty lines or the striking incidents. For the bad or the indifferent, she literally had no memory: they passed by her as the idle wind, that she regarded not Her fondness for poetry, and the justness of taste which she displayed in it, exposed poor Olive to one serious inconvenience; she was challenged as being a poetess herself; and although she denied the accusation earnestly, blushingly, and even fearfully, and her accusers could bring neither living witnesses nor written document to support their assertion, yet so difficult is it to disprove that particular calumny, that, in spite of her reiterated denial, the charge passes for true in Aberleigh to this very hour. Habit, however, reconciles all things; people may become accustomed even to that sad nick-name, an authoress. In process of time, the imputed culprit ceased to be shocked at the sound, seemed to have made up her mind to bear the accusation, and even to find some amusement in its truth or its falsity; there was an arch and humorous consciousness in her eyes, on such occasions, that might be construed either way, and left it an even wager whether our little lame girl were a poetess or not. Such was and such is Olive Hathaway, the humble and gentle village mantua-maker; and such she is likely to continue; for, too refined for the youths of her own station, and too unpretty to attract those above her, it is very clear to me that my friend Olive will be an old maid. There are certain indications of character, too, which point to that as her destiny: a particularity respecting her tools of office, which renders the misplacing a needle, the loss of a pin, or the unwinding half an inch of cotton, an evil of no small magnitude: a fidgetty exactness as to plaits and gathers, a counting of threads and comparing of patterns, which our notable housewives, who must complain of something, grumble at as waste of time; a horror of shreds and litter, which distinguishes her from all other mantua-makers that ever sewed a seam; and, lastly, a love of animals, which has procured for her the friendship and acquaint ance of every four-footed creature in the neighbourhood. This is the most suspicious symptom of all. Not only is she followed and idolized by the poor old cur which Rachael Strong keeps to guard her house, and the still more aged donkey that carries home her linen, but every cat, dog, or bird, every variety of domestic pet that she finds in the different houses where she works, immediately following the strange instinct by which animals, as well as children, discover who likes them, makes up to and courts Olive Hathaway. For her doth Farmer Brookes's mastiff-surliest of watch dogs-pretermit his incessant bark; for her, and for her only, will Dame Wheeler's tabby cease to spit and erect her bristles, and become, as nearly as a spiteful cat can become so, gentle and amiable! even the magpie at the Rose, most accomplished and most capricious of all talking birds, will say, "Very well ma'am," in answer to Olive's, "How do you do?" and whistle an accompaniment to her "God save the King," after having persevered in a dumb resentment for a whole afternoon. There's a magic about her placid smile and her sweet low voiceno sulkiness of bird or beast can resist their influence And Olive hath abundance of pets in return, from my greyhound, Mayflower, downwards; and, indeed, takes the whole animal world under her protection, whether pets or no; begs off condemned kittens, nurses sick ducklings, will give her last penny to prevent an unlucky urchin from taking a bird's nest; and is cheated and laughed at for her tender-heartedness, as is the way of the world in such cases. Yes, Olive will certainly be an old maid, and a happy one-content and humble, and cheerful and beloved! What can woman desire more? THE WIDOW. FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM, BY MRS. CAREY. Her cheek was pale,—and, in her downcast eye, The tear of anguish trembled; while a sigh— Heart-drawn, yet half suppressed-declar'd the woe, Words could not speak. Her voice was faint and low, And slow her step: for though her home was near, Joy dwelt not there; since he, whose smile could cheer Life's darkest hour, was gone.-He, the first choice Of her young heart-who, erst, with look and voice Of tend'rest love, would greet her-he now slept The last cold sleep of death-and, as she wept O'er blighted hopes, and joys for ever flown, Creation seem'd a blank, where now she stood alone. To woman known) pour forth your thanks to Heaven For wholesome trials past, and choicest blessings given. Sweet is the home of love, where manly worth And female softness dwell! And-when the birth Of love's first pledge, more closely draws the tie By which fond hearts are link'd-when Beauty's eye Glist'ning through tears, fixes in new delight On the unconscious babe; while, at the sight, The husband's and the father's heart o'erflows With love unspeakable-oli! who, that knows The bliss of such an hour, shall say that Heaven Has, in this chequer'd scene, no full enjoyment given? Oh! there are feelings, exquisite and rare, That cherish'd wives and happy mothers share, When the glad father hangs, with heart-felt joy, On the first accents of a lisping boyOr holds, delighted with each dawing grace, An infant daughter in his fond embraceGlancing from child to wife, with looks, that tell Of semblance trac'd, and days remember'd wellDays, when her smile first taught his heart to glow With all the warmth that youthful lovers knowAnd Hope and Fancy on his pathway threw Flowers ever fresh, and pleasures ever new. Bat Hope is dead, and Fancy's musings wild, When the lorn widow clasps her orphan child; Nor can or Reason's or Religion's power Cheer her sad soul in grief's first trying hour; For dark Despair is busy at her heart: His fearful voice bids every joy depart― Boding of horrors, and of snares that wait Upon the widow's and the orphan's state And, should her infant, all unconscious smile, Or clasp her neck with sweet endearing wile, Shudd'ring she turns-for, oh! she dares not gaze On looks and smiles that charm'd in happier days. PARIS CORRESPONDENCE. To the Editor of the Beau Monde. I have scarcely thought since I sent you my last communication, that I should be enabled to give you any very interesting information with respect to fashionable changes. The weather has been either so decidedly bad or uncertain as to prevent that display of elegant summer fashions in which our "Francaises" may be said so particularly to excel. We cannot on the other hand say that Paris has lost much of its animation and splendor from the annual drain of good company, for from the above mentioned as well other causes, we cannot by any means consider the ranks of fashion are as yet thinned. The splendid rooms of the Museum have been in a manner deserted, for the very chaming and varied exhibition of the productions of our national industry— similar in some respects, though on a scale of much greater magnificence and variety, to your national repository, at Charing Cross, which some time since I visited with so much pleasure. Among the striking characteristics of our Parisian Exposition, is one, in which your readers will doubtless feel with me considerable interest-that of the immense collection of the products of our national industry, in the shape of Silk, Muslin, Lace, Velvet, Shawls, &c., some of them so exquisitely fine and valuable, as to go beyond the prices of the most expensive gold woven fabrics, and others, on which we have been accustomed to place great value from the expensive nature of the material. The very prescribed limits of my letter must prevent me from entering into a description of the splendid varieties which strike the eye of the beholder; the corset méchanique, however must be particularized, which, placed on an admirably executed female figure, by a most ingenious contrivance, is arranged, laced, and unlaced without any external assistance. The Course de Chevaux at the Champ-de-Mars, early this month afforded almost the first opportunity of giving any account with respect to the tone of fashion, there had hitherto been so much indecision with regard to the reigning modes. The most gossamer-like fabrics of every kind appear to have all at once shewn themselves, like the ephemerides of summer starting into existence. The beautiful Italian straws are adorned with acacia branches, apple bloom, &c. feathers, or nœuds of ribbons placed one over the other and on one side. Great richness of pattern predominates in the ribbons; those with green and white, rose and white, or blue and white checks have the most elegant effect with these and the rice straws. Foulard robes with muslin canezous embellished with embroidery and deep lace are prevalent. With these and the mousseline de laine, a kind of dead or pearl grey form the ground to a great extent, though by many the preference is given to foulards with white ground on account of the difficulty that is found in imitating them in jaconas. The opening of the Gardens of Tivoli has also afforded a field for much fashionable display, and offered its quota towards the enlivenment of Paris. One of the greatest rages now with our gay Parisians is the steeple chase which is but a recent importation. The race course has been most successfully established, but the steeple chase from the encreased difficulties which it presents to the parties engaged, and the extreme interest to the spectators, is of all other amusements completely suited to the enthusiastic French temperament. It was at one of these courses near the aqueducts of Bac that all the splendor and fashion of Paris was congregated, and it was determined on all hands that nothing could possibly be better than a repetition of these delightful steeple chases. The élite of Paris were present at the Opera for the benefit of A. Nourrit. The splendor of the toilets on this occasion, has seldom been surpassed. Mousseline de soie, mousseline-jaconas in white was very much worn, the former stamped with the most delicate bouquets, was much employed for scarfs. Silks, satins and cachemeres may be said to have in a great degree disappeared from the decided fineness of the weather. Some ladies, with the capote designated from its extreme lightness and elegance à la Taglioni, with its transparent tulle, its azure-blue ribbons and floating veil: appear to great advantage, it gives an almost fairy like effect. The heat has greatly encreased within the last day or two and at the theatres and every place of public assembly, we perceive the very slightest possible fabrics only to enter into the composition of hats and capotes. A. de C. LONDON AND PARISIAN FASHIONS. FROM A VARIETY OF THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES "Le Petit Courrier des Dames"-"Journal de Paris et des Modes, L'Observateur des Modes et L'Indiscret"-" Le Follet Courrier des Salons"- -"Le Mercure des Salons," &c. &c. A Pekin dress embroidered on a white ground, corsage à la Sévigné, carried a rich volant de blonde à tête, the same trimming edged the corsage; the top of the sleeve, and the sabot underneath the volant, with a few nœuds of ribbon to match. A Pekin dress en Fontange of plain green ground, embroidered with white columns, with little sprigs and bouquets of roses, of the natural color, also embroidered, was worn with the Lavallière corsage, the tops of the sleeves in tulle with cross folds, separated by plain bands of the Fontange material. A half dress robe of mousseline de soie, white ground with colored printed patterns, was trimmed with tulle towards the sleeves, and ribbons to match descended in nœuds called pages. An azure-blue gros des Indes dress, moiré with embroidered columns en tablier, was ornamented with gauze ribbons of the same color. A beautiful walking dress was observed of lilac coloured satin, lace pattern; long sleeves, very large at the shoulders, falling in folds, which a close and rather long wristband catches up at the extreme end. Ruf For négligés, redingotes of gros de Naples with low corsage, round which is a little pelerine prolonged to a point towards the ceinture in front, are becoming. Round the corsage is embroidered muslin guimpe, edged round the neck by valencienne in gathers. fles of embroidered muslin, trimmed with valenciennes, fall on the bottom of the sleeve. The under-dress in ample folds is closed at the sides by a line of nœuds. The ceinture tied in like manner at the side, Embroidered edges round the pelerine. It appears decided that for promenade dresses, the corsage en pointe is discontinued, but still worn in the evening, both for full and half dress. Promenade dresses continue high, and the underdress frequently adorned with biais. For redingotes of pou de soie, of gros de France, or of plain fabrics, two biais are made en Mathilde, in the midst of which are placed nœuds. Little satin nœuds are elegant for a dress of pou de soie of a delicate color; for the evening a négligé paré, The under dress is simply closed without ornament. the corsage flat, buttoned in the middle; and nœuds at equal distances are placed in a line from the ceinture to the hem. Lined muslin redingotes seem to return with every spring. This year we may see them more or less simple, but elegant: when undress, without embroidery or lace trimmings. A very pretty toilet was distinguished in the gardens of Tivoli-a muslin dress embroidered with pale blue worsted, of a gothic pattern forming a pretty device just above the hem, and rising on one side of the skirt to the ceinture. This embroidery which was much larger at the top than at the bottom, was ornamented on the outside with a row of lace. Round the neck a little handkerchief with large checks of white and blue. A hat of rice-straw ornamented with blue feathers. Corsages still continue croisés and in folds; with many of the fabrics now in general use, or the mousseline de soie &c., this, or some such style is almost necessary as a support to the very light fabrics employed. Sleeves are frequently and tastefully composed of tulle and muslin intermixed. Sleeves are now worn large near the wrist, and some are without gigots, which renders them very similar in appearance to the sleeves à l'imbécile worn about five or six years since. Pelerines are still in vogue, many are worn double, open before, and having a small square collar. Pelerines are frequently made to form canezous before and behind. Plain redingotes are frequently made with pelerines embroidered of a different shade, or of the same color. For canezous partially dress, muslin is prefered to batiste. BALL DRESSES.-Mousseline de soie with short sleeves and low corsage, mittens of white lace and scarf of the same, form a pretty ball toilet. Scarfs are also much made in mousseline de soie, the pliability of this fabric renders it very serviceable for this purpose. They may be also very commonly seen in foulards, organdy, muslin embroidered in the same color &c. HATS &c.-A capote of white pou de soie forming auréole, surmounted by a triple nœud of ribbon of white taffeta, carrying a half veil with blonde tulle at the hem has a simple and at the same time an elegant effect. A capote à coulisses, crown very elevated, ties closeing under the chin, green pou de soie lined with blond tulle, a very long blonde-tulle veil, a nœud of ribbon of a large pattern to match, along with a large rose of green, shaded; was in very good taste. The flower of the apple tree continues a favorite, both the white and coloured bloom, with very few leaves, also colored roses and oak sprigs, of three different shades of green; acorns look very well amongst these. Italian straw hats are worn somewhat larger than others. They are adorned with flowers and ribbons of taffeta, and when they are required to be more in full dress, white feathers are used, a species of ornament which returns every year and is always a general favorite. The chapeaux paillassons have become so general that they are almost matters of necessity, particularly for the country or the morning walk. For the dimensions of hats which are become much larger, the beautiful Italian straw has seemed very well adapted. For the trimming a great variety of ornament is used-feathers, flowers, and ribbon nœuds. On hats, we observe a great variety of branches of fruit, of acacia placed in a bent position similarly to feathers, bouquets of various colored roses mixed carnations, apple flowers &c. The most common and well known flowers are those which are in most general use now for ornamenting hats. Moss-roses and roses of all kinds, acacias, geraniums, are all employed in profusion. A blond-tulle turban ornamented with white silk; two esprits falling on the left side has a good effect. Also a capote in whalebone of pou de soie glaé and mousseline d'Inde embroidered, English veil, ribbons of gros de Naples embroidered in white silk. COIFFURES. Small bouquets placed in the tufts of hair in the manner of noeuds are so much liked that they are even worn under very plain blonde hats. For a very fair complexion, two tufts of violets are becoming. Small ruches of tulle-blonde on each side are very frequently worn. With one of the light mousseline de soie dresses a lady wore a muslin turban embroidered with silk, edged with a gold fringe, surmounted by a bird of paradise, very long and descending very low. MATERIALS & COLORS.-For dresses we may still particularise the black printed foulards; a light delicate blue still answers very well for bouquets. One may see many jaconas of various colors, pale blue, rose, cendre de rose, bright green, also muslins with columns, particularly of roses and bouquets of small flowers prettily arranged. These are likely to have the preference when the weather is fine. Mousseline de soie continues to be worn in scarfs, the ends of which are embroidered in different colored silks, black upon pale blue or rose, cherry on green &c. a fringe or grenadine of the color of the embroidery is fixed at the extremities. Of this material full dress robes are very commonly made. A new material has been introduced, called Luisine, for which we cannot predict any great patronage, for though it is neither devoid of richness nor elegance, it will doubtless be considered inapplicable for the fine weather, being thick and heavy; it is a kind of grey reps, with a small check, or a small black pattern woven across and forming furrows lengthwise. Among the very numerous fabrics that have been lately introduced the mousseline de laine does not appear to have lost ground and may be considered among the prettiest of the summer costumes. The jaconas with printed foulard patterns are very retty and excellent for summer wear. Mousselines de soie are every where employed in scarfs or dresses, this fabric which on account of its lightness cannot well receive very bright or heavilyprinted patterns has most frequently small sprigs and bouquets. VARIETIES.-There has been very little change in the make of canezous, and embroidered muslin and tulle mantillas-we may except the depth and richness of the lace with which they are trimmed which is frequently seen in triple rows. Handkerchiefs do not now carry large hems. Nothing is prettier than a very fine batiste edged with five or six rows of Turkish point, alongside of a valenciennes border. A new piece of bijouterie is called à la Sévigné though composed actually of numerous pieces à la Sevigné one under the other like scales, this new article of jewellery is fixed high on the bosom and descends to the ceinture. It is enriched with many colored stones, and the setting elegantly chased. "Le Follet, Courrier des Salons"--" Le Petit Courrier des Dames"-" La Mode"---" Journal des Dames" &c. &c. L'été anticipé dont nous jouissons en ce moment, a jeté quelque défaveur sur les soieries, mousselines, laines et satins-cachemires. L'on remarquait beaucoup de blane en mousseline et jaconas-mousseline. Partout de la mousseline de soie employée pour écharpes ou pour robes, cette étoffe qui se refuse par sa légèreté à reproduire des couleurs trop vives, est généralement imprimée de bouquets ou de fleurs naturelles. L'on continue à faire des corsages croisés et à plis, ce qui, sans nuire à l'élégance, donne à cette partie du vêtement un soutien nécessaire à un tissu aussi mince; les manches sont composées de tulle et de mousseline entrecoupés. Une dame parée d'une de ces jolies robes, portait un turban en mousseline brodée de soie plate, bordé d'une frange d'or et surmonté d'un oiseau de paradis très-long et descendant fort bas. Nous avons vu bon nombre de petits bonnets de blonde garnis d'une profusion de fleurs. Une guirlande-diadême remplaçait dans quelques-uns les nœuds ordinaires de rubans dont on relève la garniture. Qui Sans crainte de tomber dans les proverbes, nous redirons avec tout le monde, avec feu l'Opéra Comique, que la simplicité ajoute à l'élégance et à la beauté. voudrait s'en convaincre, dans la mise constamment unie et de bon goût de la jeune duchesse d'O., point de garnitures à sa robe Fontange blanc broché bleu et muscade, au corsage plissé en cœur et busqué; coupée un peu longue, un double ourlet se distingue au bas; collant sur le bras, les manches sont fermées par un poignet en biais. Une ceinture blanche s'attache d'une boucle en or bruni; un fichu de tulle blonde uni découvre son beau col noué d'une écharpe de Bruxelles; une chaîne d'or retenant un binocle semble un attirail nécessaire plutôt qu'une parure, et sauf une multitude de bagues de prix, rien sur notre modèle n'annonce la richesse; sa jolie tête s'enfonce sans prétention au froncé d'un petit bounet de blonde ruché, relevé de deux roses pâles mélées au noir brillant de sa chevelure et recouvert d'un chapeau d'Italie forme tuyau, garni d'une longue plume blanche et de rubans de satin blanc. Rien de pédantesque désormais, de recherché dans le nom ou le genre des fleurs dont nos dames parent cette année leurs coiffures, les fleurs ordinaires, les plus connues sont les seules que nous ayons vu employer: Roses mousseuses, noisette, roses à cent feuilles, nombreuses branches d'acacia de diverses nuances, de l'ébénier, du spiréa, du géranium en grappes, des feuillages simples, de la germandrée, &c. La mode de monter à cheval se propage de plus en plus chez les femmes de Paris; il y a maintenant presque rivalité avec les Anglaises. Dans toutes les promenades on rencontre des amazones. Il est à remarquer que le bon genre est d'être accompagné par un ou deux cavaliers à côté de soi et un écuyer à quelques pas derrière. On laisse son équipage à la barrière ou à l'entrée du bois. |