dressed in one made of plain cambric, edged with embroidery, that cost two dollars; and any person who had an eye for beautiful forms, would have preferred the latter, because the proportions of the lady's cape and figure were suited to each other, whereas the former had chosen a cape so much too large for her, that she seemed encumbered by her finery. Conversing, one evening, at a brilliant party in one of our southern cities, with an ingenious gentleman, who had devoted much time to the fine arts, having studied architecture and practiced modeling, and who was also a close observer of female attire, I was amused to hear him compare the different modes of dress to the different styles of architecture. When he saw a lady dressed with great simplicity, and her hair naturally arrayed, he called that style of dress, Grecian. One more elaborately attired, but still in good taste, reminded him of the ancient Roman style. Anything cumbrous, however rich its material, or grand its form, was called Gothic. And when a lady approached us covered with finery, that looked as if it had been showered upon her from a band-box held over her head, he exclaimed, "Here is a specimen of the florid Gothic.' He never could bear to see bows that tied nothing, rows of buttons that fastened nothing, and little appendages that had no real or apparent use. He insisted, that in dress, as well as in architecture, all beauty was founded in utility, and asked me if I did not think, that columns which supported nothing would look very badly. He said, he liked to see borders to papered walls, because they hid the terminating edge, and he liked to see ladies gowns trimmed round the bottom of the skirt, because the trimming hid the hem, and was a handsome finish to the figure. "But," he continued, "inasmuch as I should condemn the taste that made a paper bordering so wide as to cover half the walls, so do I denounce the fashion of extending trimmings half way up the skirt. They have no longer the effect of a border, but form an overload of ornament, which cuts up the figure, and spoils any dress." Nothing can be truly beautiful which is not appropriate. All styles of dress, therefore, which impede the motions of the wearer, which do not sufficiently protect the person, which add unnecessarily to the heat of summer, or to the cold of winter, which do not suit the age and occupation of the wearer, or which indicate an expenditure unsuited to her means, are inappropriate, and therefore destitute of one of the essential elements of beauty. Propriety, or fitness, lies at the foundation of all good taste in dressing. Always consider whether the articles of dress which you wish to purchase are suited to your age, your condition, or your means, and then let the principles of good taste keep you from the extremes of the fashion, and regulate the form so as to combine utility and beauty. Some persons seem to have an inherent love of finery, and adhere to it pertinaciously. They cannot reason upon this preference. They can only say, that what others condemn as tawdry, looks pretty to them. No plainness of dress can ever be construed to your disadvantage; but ornamental additions, which, in their best state, are a very doubtful good, become a positive evil, when defaced, or soiled, or tumbled. Shabby feathers, and crushed or faded artificial flowers, are an absolute disgrace to a lady's appearance; whereas their total absence would never be remarked. Cleanliness is the first requisite in a lady's dress. MRS. FARRAR. LESSON CXXX. THE CROW TURNED CRITIC. In ancient times, tradition says, When birds like men would strive for praise, 'Tis strange to tell, this subtle creature, Had learned so well to play his part, Then, puffed with insolence and pride, Once when the birds assembled sat, From croaking when they think of rain. His wonted song he sung; the blunder Amazed and scared them worse than thunder. For no one thought so harsh a note Quoth he, the solo which ye heard WILKIE GOODY BLAKE AND HARRY GILL. OH! what's the matter? what's the matter? And coats enough to smother nine. In March, December, and in July, "T is all the same with Harry Gill; Beneath the sun, beneath the moon, His teeth they chatter, chatter still. Young Harry was a lusty drover, And who so stout of limb as he? Might see how poor a hut she had. All day she spun in her poor dwelling, By the same fire to boil their pottage, "T was well enough when summer came, The long, warm, lightsome summer day, Then at her door the canty dame, Would sit, as any linnet gay. But when the ice our streams did fetter, And then for cold not sleep a wink. Oh, joy for her! whene'er, in winter, As every man who knew her says, Now when the frost was past enduring, Than an old hedge to Goody Blake? When her old bones were cold and chill, She left her fire, or left her bed, To seek the hedge of Harry Gill. Now Harry, he had long suspected And to the fields his road would take, And once, behind a rick of barley, Thus looking out, did Harry stand; The moon was full, and shining clearly, And crisp with frost the stubble land. |