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learning, The most celebrated doctors of Persia confessed themselves incapable of coping with him. works on medicine, astronomy, theology, mathematics, natural history, poetry, &c. &c. were multiplied so rapidly, and were received so favourably, that the people soon considered him master of the seventy-two sciences necessary to his being proclaimed Monktehed. This dignified title was decreed to him. It was even enhanced by the added appellation of the " thirdmaster," Aristotle and Alfarabi having always ranked as the two

first.

The scientific prodigy of Irak no longer doubted of his immortality, and enjoyed its sweets in advance Princes sought him and repeated his words as they repeat those of the imans or the prophets The people every where threw themselves in his path, to obtain a look from him, or to touch the hem of his robe; and the greatest sages of Asia traversed the seas to consult him.

In the midst, however, of these universal praises, envy was on the watch, and eager for the opportunity to attack him. It was not long ere it arrived. Continual admiration is an affliction to the multitude. It received with eagerness the most contradictory reports concerning the learned Ismael. He was accused of not being the real author of his works, of having found them in some old and unknown manuscripts. Many questions in them savoured of heresy. He believed in the eternity of matter, and was accused of atheism, although every one of his books began with homage to God and to his prophet.

This injustice disgusted the sage. His heart was wounded by it. In his chagrin at some harsh criticisms, he would fain have been able to extinguish the brilliant lights which he had kindled for this ungrateful people. Almost discouraged, he withdrew to the banks of his streamlet, and left the redress of his wrongs to posterity.

A young girl of Teheran, who, though she had never read his works, was magnanimous enough not to speak ill of them, pleased our philosopher, and he married her. They had children, and his hapipness increased with his family. Living retired, without the least noise or ostentation, he now gave no more attention to study than was necessary to keep up the improvement of his mind, and amuse his leisure. His children grew and he became their instructor. Cultivating at the same time his books and his garden, and turning knowledge to the use of virtue, he was astonished to find himself more happy than he had been amidst the festivals of Ormus, in the courts of kings, or in the zenith of popu lar favour.

One day he was suddenly seized with a kind of fainting. His terrified wife and all his children ran to him, with the exception of his eldest son, who was then ab. sent in the city. Whilst they were lavishing their tender attentions on him, Ismael perceived that the terrace of his house was suddenly illuminated, and heard the people without, as they passed by, murmer the prayers for the dying. At the very moment, Tir-Aban and Mutaleha appeared. The latter held in hand a flower of gulbad-samour, the fatal plant, which has the power of poisoning the breath that passes over it.

"Ismael!" said the sorceress, "thou hast made the sacrifice of half thy years to glory. Thy last hour of life is come, and thou art entering immortality. Then,

at the four corners of the couch of Ismael, there ap perred the four angels of death, Monkir, Nekir, Mordad, and Esrael. Oh, holy Prophet," cried the philosopher, "to die!-to die just as existence was beginning to be sweet!-my wife, my children must I then bid you an eternal adeiu? Alas! will the glory of my name console you for my loss? Hold," exclaimed he to Mutaleha, who was presenting him the gulbad-samour, "oh, hold, one of my children is absent. May I not see him ere I die? To-morrow" "Delay is impossible," said Tir-Aban, " unless, indeed, thou wilt renounce the future honours of posterity. Do this, and thy death may be deferred three days—no longer !""Three days!" said the dying man: "sacrifice the great name for which I have been so long toiling for three little days! Weigh three days in the balance ages of glory! But I cannot die without once more beholding my beloved boy! Heartless, unfeeling genius of knowledge, thou hast deceived me like that of fortune! Take back thy gifts. Let me die unknown, but give me three days more-three days to be enjoyed with my dear family-three days that I may press my absent son once more to my heart."

"The nobleness of this sentiment disarms us," said Tir-Aban, “Ismael, pursue thy course undisturbed in the bosom of study and of nature. Thou hast sacrificed fortune to a trifling restraint. Thou now sacrificest glory to three days of life. Live henceforth for thy family and for happiness, and think no more of obtaining in future ages a delusive triumph, in which the triumpher can take no share.

"Well," said the Egyptian sorceress," which of us has gained the victory in this experiment?"

"Both and neither," answered Tir-Aban. Knowledge and fortune are both good for those who know how to make a good use of them; but excess spoils every thing. The base passions of man intrude upon his prosperity, and turn it to poison. He only treats wealth as the means of satisfying his fancies, and his eagerness for momentary gratifications. He does not make it the accomplisher of his highest and noblest impulses. science he is equally unworthy. He only employs it to feed his vanity. The example of the fisherman of Ormus ought to teach us to prize beyond riches and honours-"

"Tranquility," interrupted Mutaleha, "And virtue," added the angel.

FIELD FLOWERS.

Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse ye, 'tis true,
Yet, wildlings of nature, I doat upon you,

For ye waft me to summers of old,
When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight,
And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight,
Like the treasures of silver and gold.

I love you, for lulling me back into dreams
Of the blue highland mountains and echoing streams,
And of broken glades breathing their balm;
While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote,
And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeons's note,
Made music that sweetened the calm.

Not a pastoral sound has a pleasanter tune,
Than ye speak to my heart, little wildlings of June-
Of old ruinous castles ye tell;
Where I thought it delightful, your beauties to find,
When the magic of nature first breath'd on my mind,
And your blossoms were part of her spell.

Of

E'en now what affections the violet awakes;
What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes,
Can the wild water lily restore?
What landscapes I read in the primroses' looks,
And what pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks,
In the vetches that tangle their shore.
Earth's cultureless buds, to my heart ye were dear,
Ere the fever of passion, or ague of fear

Had scathed my existence's bloom;
Once I welcome you more, in life's passionless stage,
With the visions of youth to revisit my age,
And I wish you to grow on my tomb.

THE

CAMPBELL.

CONDITION OF WOMEN,

AT DIFFERENT EPOCHS OF SOCIETY.

THE farther we look back into the past, the more apparent to the eye of the observer is the inequality which exists in the division of moral and material, advantages between the two sexes. We shall endeavour to prove this fact, and also to explain its causes, The less progress society has made in civilization, the less are men enabled to make up for their want of strength by artificial means; and, consequently, the more indispensable becomes the development of their physical faculties for the attainment of those things which are necessary to life. In the absence of laws and associations amongst men, an individual is exposed to continual dangers; he must defend his prey or his field against his equals, and against ferocious animals, the still more formidable rivals of isolated man. In such a state of things, the female, less advantageously endowed by nature as regards physical powers, cannot enter a list in which strength alone insures triumph. She becomes a mother, and her cares are doubled, precisely when her own existence, as well as that of her children, depends on her repose and release from labour. Every thing obliges her, then, where the law of the strongest is alone legitimate, to seek the support of the most powerful sex; but the contract of association between the two parties is that of a master with a slave; the female, in exchange for the protection which is afforded her, submits to the conditions of an absolute dependence. Some portion of these barbarous manners still exists among those classes of society devoted to physical labours; the employment of strength being the only means of obtaining subsistence, it is the only quality which is held in consideration, and women are generally treated with contempt and severity.

In early stages of society, woman is naturally the soonest reduced to slavery: she is the property of man, who sometimes employs her in the meanest labours, sometimes offers her from politeness to strangers, and sometimes even makes a traffic of her. Amongst these barbarians, combats between the different tribes are of daily occurrence; and in Greek and Roman antiquity, we also see nations organised entirely for war; military courage is therefore held in the highest estimation.

It is, in these ages of violence, the most useful of all virtues, and women consequently are objects of contempt. Plato questions the fact of woman being a human creature, and yet, by a singular contradiction, he assigns her an important part in his republic. Others make her an inferior being, and even interdict her from entering their temples. Euripides calls her the most pernicious of all creatures. Cato says, that if the

NO. XLIX. VOL. V.

world was without women, men would hold converse with the gods.

In one country a female addresses her husband on her knees; in another she is forbidden to enter her house by the same door; amongst some nations, she may not eat at the same table, or sit in his presence; and amongst others, the son is even authorised to raise his hand against his mother. One Roman legislator grants to husbands the right of life and death over their wives; and another condemns the soldier who shall desert his standard, to be led through the public streets in the garb of a female.

From the right of property which man holds over woman, he has been easily led, in countries where the climate invites him to luxury and voluptuousness, to keep as many females as his means admit of. Love, as a moral passion, can only exist between beings who feel themselves equals, and of the same nature; it is physical love only which reigns among the poets of antiquity and the Orientals.

Christianity, with its doctrine of equality, opened a new era for women. The chivalric manners of the middle ages made their destiny a brilliant one; their cause was often preferred to that of the country; they presided over tournaments and courts of love. Nevertheless, we must not be too much deluded with regard to this age of galantry and devotion to the fair sex: it was a time, also, in which jealousy and all the most violent passions frequently tyrannized over them. Besides, all women were not princesses and the inhabitants of castles; neither were all men barons and knights. The romances of chivalry say nothing of the fate of the poor vassals, the companions, or rather the slaves, of the serfs, dependent, like them, on the pleasure of their lord. It is in feudal institutions that we can most justly appreciate the sum of moral and material advantages which belonged to them. War was still the principal element of society in the middle ages; strength and bravery were still, therefore, the most useful and the most highly esteemed virtues; and women, consequently, notwithstanding the tribute of homage offered to their beauty, could only have held a secondary place in society.

The successive progress of the arts has rendered a great development of physical faculties less and less indispensable; intellectual ones have taken the precedence, and women, being able to enter the lists in this more peaceful competition, have from that period occupied the rank which belongs to them in society. Let me be permitted here to make a comparison: a child is ignorant of the cares and attention due to weakness— does he feel his superiority over a younger sister? He abuses it, and ill treats her without mercy.

Arrived at the age of passion, a female becomes his idol-he pays her a kind of devotion; but the very ardour of his love is to her the source of infinite uneasiness and distress.

It is only when years have ripened the judgment of childhood, and calmed the transports of youth-it is then only, that, in a being of the other sex, man finds an amiable and sensible companion, whom he esteems and cherishes without passion, and who shares his griefs as well as his pleasures.

In this we see a picture of the fate of women in the different stages of society. Bearing, at first, the misery of their weakness; afterwards idolized in an age of en

A

thusiasm, but far from enjoying an unalloyed happiness; and, lastly, by the progress of reason, placed in that sphere which belongs to them—that of an equality founded, on one side, on the protection of force; on the other, on gentle and kind attentions.

Have we reached this ripe age of civilization? We can, at least, foresee it. The more moral ideas assume an empire over material strength, the more will the lot of women be ameliorated; and this amelioration na. turally begins in those classes which are not compelled to physical labours. As to the others, it appears that for them the age of iron and the reign of power has not yet ceased.

Our institutions preserve, as regards females, the stamp of ancient doctrines-of those even which preceded Christianity. Expressions such as the following one, in right of husband, sufficiently attest this fact. The French Revolution itself even did not place females in their proper situation; there is, in fact, in our social organization, none assigned to them. The application of the system of unlimited competition, combined with the imperfect education which they receive, tends to perpetuate their precarious condition. Left to themselves, they find they are unable to struggle against the other sex ; misery awaits them, and frequently one only resource is left them-prostitution. The inevitable state of dependence in which their inferiority retains them, the scorn which attaches itself to the victims of seduction, without pursuing the seducer, all contribute to precipitate them into the abyss. The laws framed for the protection of weakness, are not directed towards the preservation of innocence against the snares of the rich libertine; and education, still more powerful than laws, tends as little to this end.

A young man on his entrance into the world learns that his part is to attack-the female's to defend herself; so much the worse for her if she falls: it is a triumph which gives glory to her conqueror. It seems that

man, not content with treating women as inferiors, as regards social privileges, desires also to retain them in an intellectual minority, instead of hastening that state of moral perfection in them, which would so powerfully contribute to his own happiness. Accustomed as we are to esteem as frivolous every thing which regards females, the instruction which is given to them amongst us bears the character of this frivolity. Far be from me the thought of wishing the two sexes to be brought up in the same manner. Their future destinies are dif. ferent; they ought, therefore, to be differently prepared for them. But why should not the same care and attention be bestowed on each ? It is equally noble, and equally useful, in the present state of our manners, to be a good mother, as to be a courageous soldier. The cultivation of sentiments is as important as that of understanding; and if it is true, as every thing seems to prove, that the superiority is decidedly on the side of woman, as regards the faculties of the soul, as it is on that of man, as regards those of the mind, why should not this portion of public education be confided to her? This is not the place in which to examine what will in future be the influence of woman-what place she will occupy in a social organization more conformable to the wants of the human mind-and what division of labour will be assigned to her. The occasion will present itself for the examination of this interesting question, and we shall not fail to avail our

selves of it. For the present, let it suffice us to prove, that, in spite of the ameliorations successively effected in the condition of women by the progress of knowledge, they are still far from performing that part in society which belongs to them, since they have no share in the establishments of the institutions by which they are governed-since the nature of all public functions is such, that men alone can fill them, these functions having been made only for them ;-this is a remnant of the ancient basis of organization, the preponderance of strength.

Must we, in concluding, anticipate one objection? It will be said that a public life frequently demands complete renouncement of all family ties, a renouncement, painful to the firmest and most masculine characters, and of which a female would be totally incapable. This firmness, this civil courage, since that is the name generally applied to it, can only display itself in resistance to a social order, which is at variance with the interests of families, that is to say, in the times of revolution. But such events are happily only transient. Political institutions, re-organised, are so constituted as to be firm, and adapted to the happiness of individuals. From that moment the interests of the state, and the interests of families become identified; these deplorable troubles cease; and domestic affections become the duty of every good citizen. It is easy to conceive that, in such a state of things, that is to say, in the natural situation of society, that women, prepared by a careful education, might with advantage, and that they no doubt will, at some future period, fill public functions analogous to the peculiar capacities of their sex.

COMFORT.

A SONG FOR A CHORUS OF FOUR.
From Korner.

Now, while we here united stand
With uncorrupted hearts,
This sacred hour of festival

Fresh fortitude imparts;

It onward sweeps the notes of song,
Wakes the harp's sounding thrill,
Heroic thought graves on the soul,
And fires the general will.

The time is bad, the world is poor,
The best are swept away,
The earth is but a wideu'd grave
Of truth and liberty!
Yet, courage! though the despot's foot
Has strode o'er German fields,
Is there not many a silent heart
The faithful blossom yields?

Timid before the sound of blood,

And the black frown of war,
Back in the soul's last deep recess,
The arts have fled afar;
Orphan'd are now the peaceful vales
Where shone their holy fanes,
Yet to them, in each patriot heart,
An altar still remains.

Friendship, and faith, and truth, are left,
High joys and duties still;

Then let oppression's torrent swell,
We'll brave its mightiest ill!
Spread it before us wide as space,
And pile it to the sky,

By heaven our faith we'll firmly keep,
And for our duties die!

Fair woman and fair woman's love

Form still a nobler prize,
Where ancient virtues dwell in youth,
And manly ardours rise; -

Who would their charming influence lose,
Outcast be he from bliss;

Who for his mistress would not die,
Should never taste her kiss!

Religion, daughter of the sky,
The foe has left behind,
That messenger of glory sent
To cheer each sinking mind;
Blood shall her altar purify,

Which foemen have profaned,
Forgotten, slighted, made a jest-
That too shall be maintained!

See, mounting with an eagle's sweep,
The patriotic fire,

That with enthusiastic heat

Shall make our foes expire!
O tell me, all now standing here,

In love's and pleasure's trance,
Shall we not meet when beacon fires
From height and mountain glance ?
Shall we not forth in courage firm,
When vengeance brings the day?
Shall we not forth, and in our blood
Float our foes away?

Thou who pervad'st yon wide expanse-
Father! to thee we cry;

Lead us-although it be to death-
Lead us to victory!

LOCAL ATTACHMENT.

As I was one summer's evening looking over a book of flowers painted from nature, a pale sprig of eglantine brought to mind the neat white-washed cottage, by the side of which it had once flourished. The inmate of the humble dwelling was a poor but contented old woman, whom, owing to the various visits I had recently paid and received after a long absence from home, I had not been able to call on as usual: and hastily tying on my hat, I took my way through a lane almost impassable with wreaths of woodbine and other hedge wild flowers, to her habitation. It was the hour at which she was generally seated, spinning at her cottage door, and singing the songs best liked in her youth, and every step I took I listened for her voice; but the cow-boy trilling his lay, and the lowing of his herds, as they were slowly winding their homeward way from the still sun-tinged meadows, were the only sounds which broke on the stillness of the evening. I reached the spot I sought, but all was changed, all silence and desolation. The once neat little cottage stood no longer there, but piles of bricks and beams of wood were promiscuously hurled in every direction. The little garden, beautiful in summer's bloom, and neat when bloom was over, (for there the fallen leaf and the insidious weed were never suffered to remain,) was now rudely trodden by the foot of the demolisher. The vegetables which the humble cottager used to vend for her maintenance, had been trampled down as heedlessly as her flowers, among which her favourite rose-tree, which had so lately luxuriantly covered one end of her tenement, had been torn from the supporting wall, and laid with its green wreaths trailing along the path; while around it wall-flowers, pinks, and polyanthuses, were crushed amid bricks, lime, dust, and mortar. Such a scene was so unexpected, the change so sudden, from the clean

and cheerful appearance that the same spot bore only a few months previously, that I became lost in wonder and conjecture. As I stood ruminating on the desola tion, I heard a wild and frenzied laugh, and on turning round, beheld the once-happy habitant of the humble dwelling. She was arrayed in a blue stuff gown, in happier days her Sunday garment, to which wild flowers of various descriptions, intermingled with straws, were affixed in whimsical arrangement. Still, in the curious costume, neatness was blended with absurdity, and her white cap and handkerchief told of better times. I in voluntarily spoke to her, but she started back, and re pulsed my offered hand; then hastily stepping forward, gazed so intently on me, that I thought her looks were growing into recognition, and I was on the point of addressing her on the subject of her ruined abode, when the same wild laugh burst forth afresh, and she: hastily fled from the spot.

On my return, I learnt that the cottage had been pulled down, and the garden laid waste, by order of the landlord, that the ground might be planted, to add to the extent of a plantation which he preferred seeing from his drawing-room windows to the straw-roofed tenement and its simple garden; and that the old woman had offered, in her affection for the spot, to endeavour to pay an advance of rent, but was rejected, and from that hour she used to say all her peaceful days were gone, since the home which had sheltered her so many years was to be taken away; and whenever another dwelling was proposed to her, "No, no," she would exclaim, "I can never like any other; it was here that my old father, when he was dying, said, Ellen, never leave this cottage: it was here you learnt your duty, it was here you saw your parents living poor, but contented :' yes," she would continue sighing "here in the summer's evening we sat together, on the old bench, listening to the music of the bees, and looking on our cottage flowers; and since it may not be here that my head may sink to rest, I care not where it he." Thus would she lament the first misfortune she had sincerely felt, devoid of all the near connexions of life; the little spot of earth, and the humble comforts attached to it, were become unusually dear to her heart, and that heart was a warm one.

66

When the day for the poor woman's quitting arrived, she wandered off for weeks, no one could tell whither; and then returned, bearing the signs of having suffered by illness, and want of proper food and rest, and with the melancholy aberration of intellect which I had so recently witnessed.

Time passed on, but no ray of returning reason dawned on the mind of the once-happy cottager. Decked with her fanciful trappings, I often met her: sometimes she was muttering an unintelligible jargon, at others, she was gathering wild flowers, and picking up straws, to form some new decoration to her whimsical dress; at others, I beheld her culling the smooth and shining pebbles from the new gravelled road; these she called her gems, and with such she was always amply provided, in order, as she said, to pay off all obligations

It had once been her pride to keep from asking parochial relief; if illness assailed her, she knew how to concoct salubrious mixtures from certain herbs; if her crop of cucumbers failed, she would be doubly industrious in the harvest field; and still a proud spirit of independence attended her wanderings, and shone con

spicuous amidst her malady, and she would give in return, for the smallest gratuity she received, some of her valued pebbles. Many had been her friends-the rich had respected her for her industrious habits; the aged poor had loved her for her friendliness and readiness to assist them at all times, to the best of her power, and the young cottager would often forego a maying to sit under the rose-tree at Ellen's door, and listen to her tales and songs. With a voice wild, and broken through age and affliction, she would still sing verses of the latter, and, in her excited moments, would compose extempore stanzas, at hearing which, the wandering goatherd listened, sighed, and blessed himself. No heir was born in the neighbourhood, but she honoured the event by an effusion; no wedding train tripped over the village green, but she brought up the rear; and no act of oppression was talked of, but it received her ban, at which many have shuddered; for although but a wild and wandering maniac, many of Ellen's maledictions have been fearfully verified.

'Tis now many years ago that I beheld the subject of this tale, but with other remembrances of the neighbourhood of my birth, she and her sorrows are recalled to mind; and I have never heard of projected alterations in the grounds of the opulent, to effect which the cottager's home was demolished, without thinking of the poor old woman; and should this little tale, founded on fact, ever meet the public eye, and be the means of inducing one of the sons of wealth to spare the humble dwelling of the poor, with its garden of wild flowers, the wishes of its author will not be wholly ungratified. E. B.

LONDON AND PARISIAN FASHIONS.

FROM A VARIETY OF THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES, INCLUDING COPIOUS EXTRACTS FROM

"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.

DRESSES-Our present style of costume may now be said to have assumed an intelligible aspect, if not one precisely laid down and minutely marked.

Great display in pattern, richness and substantial qualities in the material are indispensable in the present costume of our ladies of ton.

The make is perhaps as much regulated by individual taste as at any former period.

The style of the middle ages may be said to be gaining still greater favor.

Embroidery again profusely decorates the fair, and this in a style of elegance joined with (if it may be so called) massive work, properly applicable to the gorgeousness of the ground work.

We will cite a few examples of dresses that will serve to give a faithful idea of the extent to which the comble de la mode is carried, as well as to facilitate those who prefer a plainer and less labored style.

A rose-coloured satin dress, worked in silver and marone velvet, of great richness.

A green satin dress, the trimming worked in velvet of the same colour.

A court dress of tissue de Memphis: a cachmire painted in flowers and very admirable designs, heightened

by the effects of gold and the most brilliant colours intermixed.

A blue satin dress, worked in silver, and in the most exquisite style of embroidery. Few more strikingly beautiful effects could be observed than the one produced by the above tasteful combination of colours and designs.

A Sesostris gauze, black foundation, and large bouquets, in gold and in squares.

A sylphide dress, lined with lilac and black gauze. This dress possesses a singular peculiarity: the two fabrics, by means of extremely delicate work, bearing the appearance of but one.

A royal Pompeia satin dress, worked in gold and silk, had, from its gold and flame coloured ground, and the variously coloured and beautifully worked silk bouquets, a most splendid appearance.

A rich white satin dress with little golden bouquets placed close together, had a very sweet effect.

A dress of black satin with sprigs of lilac of the natural tint,

A white crape dress, the embroidery en chenilles lightly and tastefully disposed.

A worked satin ball dress, open in front, with a Beatrice coiffure, had an excellent effect.

HATS, CAPS, &c.-Little velvet hats for evening dress, seem to be likely to have a great run; they are extremely convenient for many accasions, and occupy a space in dress, somewhat between the chapeau de ville and the turban. For an evening dress party, the crown must be small and gracefully elevated, it may be ornamented by a couple of feathers, or, which is more simple, a few flowers.

A single feather placed on one side and fixed under the ribbon at the bottom of the crown, has been much admired.

Capotes in white satin ornamented with a branch of lilac or rose, are in good taste. Under the shape, coques of blonde or bouquets of extremely small delicate flowers are intermixed tastefully in the side curls.

In the disposition of some hats, an elegance is preserved and an appearance kept up, quite suitable for dress occasions, which at the same time a negligé effect may pervade, which gives a very charming appearance: in attempting this, crowding of ornaments, whether ribbons, feathers, &c., must be especially avoided, the manner of arrangement being of paramount importance, a single nœud sometimes attached to the crown and a small chaplet of flowers beneath the band of hair almost lost within the turn of the front, is frequently sufficient for the embellishment of one of these simple hats.

The placing of flowers under the shape is extremely becoming to certain faces. but one essential to this is, that the wearer besides, should at least have a juvenility of appearance.

Velvet capotes with satin or taffeta ribbons are frequently ornamented with a half veil, and with a little blond cap flat on the forehead, with ribbon Berthes on each side the face.

The little Castillian hat, may be said decidedly to have the preference, now especially since the reign of the béret is now over.

For ball dresses, blond, crapes, ærial tulle, Elizabeth gauze, which is in the gothic style, satin gauze, and blond gauze. For dress, reps faconnés and damasked cashmere.

Seraglio scarfs of white satin worked in white bou

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