once.

If she refuses me, she may take you and welcome, but not otherwise. Brimful of valour, he determined to seek Celestina; and at length found her sitting in a pleasant summer-house, with Mrs. De Quincy. The sunbeams poured full upon her beautiful Italian head as she bent over her work, and reflected from her banded hair, shone around her like a glory. As Julius entered, she raised her head, and, dazzled by the light, requested him to draw down the blind. The window looked out upon a lane which ran at the back of the garden. As Julius unfastened the string which kept up the blind, he perceived the head of a man, who, by the aid of the inequalities of the wall, had clambered up to the window, and, in this extraordinary spy, he recognised his friend Jefferson. His first thought was to throw one of the flower-pots under his hand upon the intruder's head, and crush him like a second Pyrrhus; but his virtue triumphed over his homicidal temptation, and he contented himself with drawing down the blind, giving no sign that he had perceived Jefferson, and shutting the window, which, on second thoughts, he re-opened.

Jefferson had tormented himself with doubts ever since his return to London. His friend's silence surprised him; and, as the dread of Solomon vanished, his remembrance of his mistress's beauty grew stronger. His impatience grew at length so strong, that, after sending his letter to Ormond, he could not wait for a reply, but got on the first coach, and was sat down near Mr. Anderson's house. Then again irresolution came upon him. He did not know in what character he should be received, and whether, if Ormond had followed his first instructions, his visit would not be considered as a gross insult. He recollected that Celestina was accustomed to sit in the summer-house in the afternoon, and it occurred to him that by climbing to the window he might gather sufficient from the conversation between her and Mrs. De Quincy to satisfy his doubts. There were seldom any passers in the lane, and, as the summer-house was situated at an angle of the wall, and the bricks were worn, the ascent was easy. He was in the act of ascending when he espied Ormond, and he drew back, flattering himself that he was unperceived. As soon as the blind was let down he regained his position, and established himself with his feet resting in a gap in the wall, and his hands firmly grasping the iron balcony of the window, and thus, with his head snugly ensconced behind a flower-pot, he settled himself to listen.

There was a long silence. Ormond was seated on a stool very near Celestina, but he knew not how to begin a conversation, and he looked with imploring eyes towards Mrs. De Quincy, who, though she understood him full well, for she had read his thoughts long before, would not help him. At length, with a wicked meaning in her speech, she said, "Have you heard nothing of Mr. Jefferson lately?"

Ormond saw her meaning, and hesitated for a moment; but, quickly resuming self-possession, he answered, “Yes, Madam, I have received a letter from him, announcing his return, and he has commissioned me to inform you of it." "His uncle has then recovered?"

"I presume he has; but his illness was only an excuse, to afford my friend a delicate opportunity of withdrawing for a few days."

Celestina raised her head, and fixed her expressive eyes upon Ormond.

"If your friend," said she, with an emphasis on the word friend---"If your friend thought it necessary to absent him

self, be assured, that I do not desire his return. Pray write, and tell him so."

"You should not be so revengeful," said Mrs. De Quincy, with affected good-nature; "if he repents and confesses his faults---if he confesses himself guilty of being bitten---if he throws himself on his knees, and implores your pardon, ought you not to grant him pardon?"

"What an excellent woman," said Jefferson, behind the flower-pot.

Miss Anderson was silent for a few moments, and then she softly said to Ormond, at whom, though sitting at her feet, she scarcely dared to look---" You, doubtless, are of Emily's opinion?"

A thrill ran through the frame of Julius, as, gently bending towards the beautiful girl, who sat motionless, her eyes cast down, but her emotion betrayed by the undulation of her snow-white garment, he murmured---" It is I who seek for pardon: I, who love you, and whom the very thought of this marriage plunges into despair. Celestina, my fate is in your hands, the happiness of my life depends on a word. Say, I beg of you,---on my knees I beg you---tell me that you will not marry him."

Celestina answered not, but the pressure of her hand, which he had seized, answered for her.

Mrs. De Quincy, with a wicked smile, quietly said, "It is certainly praiseworthy to plead a friend's cause, but there is no need of so much warmth. Besides, it is not good manners to whisper."

"He is pleading for me;---what will she answer?" said Jefferson, who began to find his position unpleasant.

At

Celestina rose, and, crossing the floor, sat down by the side of her friend. And hid her face in her bosom. this moment Jefferson tried to put aside the blind; a motion which was observed only by Ormond, who, changing his position, and approaching Mrs. De Quincy, said aloud--"Allow me to fulfil my commission. What answer shall I send to Jefferson ?"

"Very proper," said Mrs. De Quincy, with a sort of maternal gravity; "it is time to make up your mind. If you love Mr. Jefferson, all these disputes are childish. If you do not love him, say so; and your father, I am sure, will not put any constraint on your feelings."

"I do not love him," said Celestina in a firm voice. Ormond looked round to the window, and perceived by the movement of the blind that these words had reached the ears of Jefferson.

"But you accepted him," said Mrs. De Quincy, in a halfmocking tone.

"I was so young and foolish," remonstrated Celestina. "I liked the thought of living in London; the match pleased my father; and I accepted the hand of Mr. Jefferson, without considering the importance of such an engagement. I am sure he did not look on it in any other light. Fortunately, experience has shewn us that we are not made for one another. I do not blame him; on the contrary, I am ready to confess that I alone am in the wrong. But I could not be happy with him. Why, then, should I marry him ?" "But if he comes back," said Ormond, "how will you receive him?"

"I shall repeat what I have now said."

"What! if he appeared suddenly before you, in a humble, suppliant attitude ?"

"Yes;---I tell you I don't love him, and I never will marry him."

Ormond, who stood close by the window, suddenly drew up the blind, and discovered the unhappy Jefferson to the astonished ladies.

"Good day, my dear friend," he cried; "how are you? Tired out with his fatiguing position, and overpowered by the smothered laughter of the spectators of his misery, Jefferson let go his hold, and fell prostrate in the lane.

Need we say more? No. Let us end like a good old nursery tale. But a few days more elapsed, and Ormond and Celestina were married; and Jefferson, like a sensible man, comforted himself with Mr. Anderson's good cheer, and danced at the wedding; the same night Solomon most unaccountably disappeared, and, what is more wonderful, was never inquired after.

THE EMIGRANTS' TALE, A SKETCH OF 1794.

You ask me (said the Emigrant) to recount to my adventures of 1794. Be it so; I will act my part again, although the vivid tenderness of my memory causes me to think that I repass the horrors which I but recall. The scenes are changed, and the characters are passed away---but whenever I allow myself to muse upon those days, again my eyes behold the victim train---old and young---the grey head of the father and the fair brow of the daughter--- the patriot noble and the humble mechanic---hurrying, goaded by their persecutors to a felon's death. Again the shouts echo in my deadened ears, A la Lanterne! à la Lanterne !" I was then in the prime of life, and the snows of age are now sprinkled on my brow---but the occurrence of yesterday is forgotten, while the dangers of 1794 brings a shudder to my heart and a tear in my eye. But to my narrative :

66

Paris trembled within her walls and France regarded her capital with eyes of horror; it appeared as if the blood was never to cease flowing, until Desolation, in the person of the last Revolutionist, should sit enthroned on the tottering walls of Notre Dame, and waving his cap of liberty, shout, “I am alone! no victim meets my eye---freedom is established, and France happy in the blood of her children!" To-day, you might look around, and say, “ I am content---I have wealth, family, and friends. "---To-morrow comes, and what then is your situation? Your estates confiscated---your friends guillotined---your family prisoners, or fugitives---and yourself standing before a blood-cemented tribunal, with no accuser to confront you, and no witnesses but your prejudiced judges or the eager executioner, and called upon to defend yourself from---what? The crime of not loving bloodshed, or of having excited suspicion---nay, it was enough to be suspected of being suspicious; such was Paris and still I continued its inmate. You will ask me, why did I not fly? Alas! a man who has toiled for thirty years in the pursuit of fortune for his children, does not willingly relinquish it---and flight, even weighing the chances of its success, the alternative to which was the guillotine, ensured confiscation of property without a doubt. My wife and children, thank God! were away from this fearful place---and I remained, hoping that caution and retirement in my habits might preserve me during the storm, and enable me to retain the fruits of a life's

labour. The only companion with whom I associated was the Senor Val---, the brother of my Inez, who remained at Paris for a similar purpose with myself. These fearful days we passed together, in mournful conversation, now bewailing the hapless fate of some mutual friend---now sighing for our absent family. To prevent danger---(for the Senor had every reason to fear he was a suspected person, from his great riches and liberal turn of mind)---our intimacy was concealed from all. None of my servants knew him by person excepting old Gaspard, and we did not fear his betrayal: he visited me, therefore, as the Cheval Roche, and we mutually agreed, should either be arrested, to deny all knowledge of the other.

But our daily intercourse was not to last; one day, the Senor came not---another, and he was absent still---a third, and Gaspard heard his fate---he had fallen another victim to the horrible policy of Robespiere and his minions, which destroyed all who might prove dangerous, whatever their present feelings were. Dreadful policy! which began in the murder of a king, and ended only in the downfall of his murderers! I was alone---I dared not now attempt flight--but I felt in my misery, that I was to be the next victim--that the tiger's eye was upon me.

Two days had passed away since I heard of the fate of my unhappy friend, when Gaspard suddenly entered the room where I sat, tracing with tearful eyes, the last letter I had received from my dear Inez. " said he, Monsieur,"

66

66

we are lost !---the agents---"

I flew to my pistols, aud at the same moment, the infernal Agents of the Tribunal entered the room. I immediately saw the folly of attempting any resistauce, and re-seated myself with as much coolness as I could assume.

"Monsieur!" said the principal officer, "the Nation require your presence. "Where?" I asked.

"You will have the kindness to follow us---we can answer no questions.'

I arose, and put on my hat and cloak; I was also about to buckle on my sword, when the official observed, with sardonic politeness--

"Monsieur will have no need of it---he goes among friends---the friends of liberty!"

I understood, and replaced the weapon---" Allons, Messieurs---je vous attends," said I.

We left the house, and, as I crossed the threshold, my heart sank. Shall I ever re-enter it? Despair in dull accents whispered, "No!" A very few streets brought us to that fatal gate entered by so many, re-crossed by so few but for a wider home and a longer rest: the few citizens, who, like spectres of their former selves, flitted before our path, passed us with averted eyes, lest recognition of some once-loved friend should be their own accusation, yet dreading that in that victim, some new tie of affection might be violated---some fresh wound of domestic peace might be laid open. We arrived before the prison of the Conciergerie. Who has ever gazed upon those frowning walls---that dismal gate-way---without a sigh for the fate of the thousands to whom they once proved the entrance to eternity---and a curse on the cruelty of the monsters who ravaged and laid waste so rich a country by their crimes.

As the gloomy portals closed upon me, perhaps for ever, I shuddered, and fell into a fearful reverie, only interrupted by the clanking of chains, the drawing of bolts, and

the brutal jests of my conductors, until I found myself in a small and dimly-lighted chamber, confronting the lowborn wretches who had elected themselves the judges of suffering innocence. A poor wretch had just received his sentence as I entered, and was petitioning for mercy, with streaming eyes, and a voice choked by agonizing apprehensions.

"Messieurs!" he gasped---“ I am innocent---indeed I am innocent. I have a wife and two helpless children: take all my wealth---but do not make my wife a widow---do not make my children fatherless'

"Citizen!" said the President---and the glare of light which fell on his features from a small grated window, told me he was the ferocious Dessaix---" Citizen you are dangerous---take him away!”

This was the last time that the wealthy and honoured M. Thiers heard the voice of human being, except the gibes of his executioners, and the howlings of the mob---next morning he died! It was now my turn.

"Umph! Nous verrons :---there must be some mistake. Asseyez-vous, ami-Citoyen. You are accused here, M. de S---," continued Dessaix, in a tone of affected pleasantry ---“ and no doubt most wrongly---of plotting with the executed criminal, the Senor Val---, an escape from the capital, and a junction with our foes."

"Escape I have not attempted," I returned boldly--"and foes to liberty I know not.”

"You know the Senor Val---, the Spanish merchant ?" "I neither know him, nor can I converse his language." "Umph! nous verrons," said Dessaix. He paused a few moments---whispered some words to an attendant, who left the chamber---and then continued: "You say, prisoner, that you do not understand the Spanish language ?" "Not a word."

"Good! then your presence can be no bar to our examination of a Spanish prisoner. Remain here, ami-Citoyen, while our friends consult upon your case."

I was placed, according to his directions given in an ́under-tone, in a situation wherein the strong light of the grating fell full upon my face. Dessaix then leant back upon his seat, covering his face with his hand, as though to shield the light from his eyes---but I knew---I felt---that those eyes were upon me. And now, another prisoner was placed at the table: I scarcely dared to look at him, lest I should recognize some loved friend---but at length I summoned courage, and breathed freely---I knew him not. His examination, in the Spanish language, now commenced, Dessaix still retaining his position, and not uttering a word.

"You were arrested at Boulogne ?"

After a few moments' whispering among my judges--"Citizen," said Dessaix, "we see that you do not understand Spanish. Is it equally true that you do not know the Senor Val--- ?"

"Monsieur," I rejoined, firmly---yet with little hope that anything could avail me now---" the person you speak of is a stranger to me."

"Good! call Maitre Jaques." The door of the chamber opened, and Maitre Jaques, in whom I immediately recognised one of my late servants, confronted me. "Now, Citizen, we will be plain with you---were you acquainted with the Chevalier Roche ?"

I now saw that all was lost---yet I determined to make a last appeal to the justice, if not to the humanity, of my judges.

"Messieurs! if I own that the unfortunate Senor was known to me-----if I own that I do understand the Spanish language---let me at least deny that I am at all concerned in treasonable practices, or that my sentiments are in any way inimical to the cause of liberty, or the good of the National Convention---"

"Why did you attempt to seek that safety in flight which a good citizen is always sure of among his compatriots ?"

and insult in a city torn and racked as Paris is by ------" I stopped, for the scowl on the President's brow warned me that I had gone too far. He spoke, not as heretofore in the accents of scornful civility, but with a ferocious air--

"Prisoner! we know your sentiments, too, on the glorious and successful struggle for liberty; and here we descend from our accustomed shadow: your accuser is before you."

I turned my eyes upon the wretch who had slept beneath my roof, who had eaten of my bread---and who now denounced me---" And is the word," said I, warmly, "of a mercenary menial to be taken before that of a gentleman---"

"Hold, Citizen," interrupted Dessaix, again resuming his sarcastic smile, "you forget that we are now all equals ---pride and aristocracy are buried in the grave of tyranny. But you have said enough: you are proved a traitor to the cause of liberty---and the stern demands of patriotism call for the blood of the renegade---away: you die!"

I was not allowed to speak another word, but was hurried to a dismal, solitary cell, to make room at the bar for other victims. I remained the whole night, and all the next day, unnoticed, but in the most agonising suspense, that each footstep which passed my dungeon door might be the signal of my fate. Once only a key was placed in the door, early on the second morning---there were two persons.

"Come, Maitre Jaques," said one, "you waste time--that cell is empty."

"The traitor De S---"

"He died with the first gang."
"Dupois told me he was here."
"Nay, nay, then convince yourself."

I sunk on my heap of straw in despair, as I heard the grating of the lock: Maitre Jaqnes appeared at the door, accompanied by one of the half-armed wretches who fulfilled the mandates of the despots. But, as I imagine, the darkness of the dungeon overpowered his vision; for he turned away with a disappointed growl, and slammed the door to with violence, without locking it, and I was again left in darkness and solitude. The hope which had arisen on finding myself overlooked, however, fled at the prospect of another and more horrible death from starvation, for the pangs of hunger already racked my enfeebled frame. What should I do? The prospect of success, should I attempt escape by the open door, was small, but if I remained, ultimate death seemed inevitable. I hesitated for a very few moments only, and at length resolved to make the attempt. I took off my coat and waistcoat, the brilliant buttons on which might have attracted notice, and turned up the sleeves of my shirt, the more to resemble the slovenly style of the murderous canaille. My features were too much concealed by the dirt and filth of my cell, to fear their recognition by my most familiar friend; and in this state, recommending myself fervently to the guidance of the Almighty, I sallied forth into the passage. I remembered that on being conducted from the tribunal chamber, I had been led to my cell up a flight of steps; these steps I perceived commenced a few yards to the right, and I therefore resolved to proceed in an opposite direction. I crept silently and fearfully along the passage for twenty or thirty yards, when a door suddenly opened into it, and the very jailer who had two days before locked me in my cell, approached hastily: I had no time to conceal myself,---he

was, I perceived, unarmed, and I determined to struggle with him for my life. He neared me,---I trembled,--when to my astonishment, merely regarding me with a sidelong look,

"Citizen!" said he, "save yourself: we are lost!" and rapidly fled along the passage. I was rooted to the ground for a few moments; but happening to glance at the door which he had left open, I saw with rapture that it led by a few steps to one of the gratings communicating with the open street. Not a moment was to be lost; I flew to the grating,---it was open,---I was in the street,---I was free!

I mixed unnoticed with a crowd, and with feelings of thanksgiving heard the joyful news: Robespierre was dead; after failing in an attempt at suicide, he had fallen a victim to the very herd who had before deified him---and Paris was released from her worst tyrant on the 27th of May. I left the capital, with the few wrecks of my property, and rejoined my thankful family at Boulogne, where we quitted France, never to return.

THE QUEEN'S DRAWING ROOM.

The Queen held a drawing room (the second this season) on the 25th, at St. James's Palace.

Her Majesty came in state, with her suite in three carriages, escorted by a party of life guards from Buckingham Palace.

A guard of honour of the second life guards, with the band of the regiment in state uniforms, was on duty in the large court yard of the palace. The Queen's guard of the foot guards, with their band, was stationed in the colour court.

Her Majesty's honourable corps of gentlemen-at-arms attended in the presence chamber, portrait gallery, and at the entrance reserved for the royal family.

Her Majesty was attended by the Countess of Charlemont (in waiting), the Marchioness of Normanby (in waiting), the Marchioness of Tavistock, Lady Portman, and the Marchioness of Breadalbane, ladies of the bedchamber; Hon. Miss Lister (in waiting), Hon. Miss Anson (in waiting), Hon. Miss Pitt, Hon. Miss Cavendish, and the Hon. Miss Murray, maids of honour; Mrs. Brand (in waiting), Lady Harriet Clive, Hon. Mrs. George Campbell, Lady Caroline Barrington, Viscountess Forbes, and Lady Theresa Digby, women of the bed chamber; Marquis of Headfort, lord in waiting; Hon. William Cowper, groom in waiting; Colonel Buckley, equerry in waiting; Master Cowell and Master Cavendish, pages of honour in waiting.

The Duchess of Kent came in state to the drawing room, escorted by a party of life guards. Her royal highness was attended by Lady Flora Hastings and the Hon. Captain Spencer. Her royal highness entered the palace by the Colour Court.

Her royal highness's dress on this occasion was composed entirely of British manufacture.

The Duchess of Gloucester attended the drawing room. Her royal highness was attended by Lady Mary Pelham.

LADIES' DRESSES.

HER MAJESTY.

A white net dress over white satin, elegantly trimmed with silver blond flounces; the body and sleeves splendidly ornamented with diamonds; train of rich pink and silver

Irish poplin, lined with white satin, and trimmed with silver blond. Head dress, a diamond diadem, feathers and lappets.

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF KENT.

A white net dress, richly embroidered in gold and scarlet; the body and sleeves splendidly ornamented with diamonds and blond; train of rich plaid velvet (the royal Stuart), lined with white satin, and trimmed with chenille. Head dress, feathers, diamonds, and lappets.

DUCHESS OF NORTHUMBERLAND. Manteau of magnificent white Genoa velvet, lined with rich white satin, superbly trimmed with ermine; bodice of the same; mantilla and sabots of splendid Brussels point; petticoat of rich white moire silk, elegantly trimmed en tablier, with flounces of Brussels point and noeuds of riband. Head dress, plume of ostrich feathers, and lappets of rich point; ornaments, diamond necklace and ear-rings en suite. DUCHESS OF BEDFORD.

Dress of rich black satin, trimmed with two black lace flounces; train and body of rich black satin, trimmed with lace and bouquets of violette de Parme. Plume of gray feathers, lace lappets, and diamonds.

DUCHESS OF SOMERSET.

Dress of pink crape, richly embroidered in white and silver, over a rich glacé satin slip; train of pink glacé satin, trimmed with silver lama and blond; Chantilly berthe, and ruffles of pink and silver blond. Plume of pink feathers, with a wreath of blush roses, and a parure of magnificent brilliants; lappets of pink and silver blond.

MARCHIONESS OF CORNWALLIS.

Dress of white satin, richly embroidered in gold; the body and sleeves trimmed with gold and blond; train of blue figured satin, with a handsome gold border, and lined with white satin. Head dress, feathers and diamonds.

MARCHIONESS OF THOMOND.

A rich black velours de lion train, trimmed with fine grebe fur; corsage a la Sevigné; rich black lace mantilla and sabots; a rich black lace Chantilly blond dress, with rich flounces, over black satin. Head dress, plume of feathers, rich black lace lappets, and ornaments.

MARCHIONESS OF NORMANBY.

Dress of blue crape over satin; train of rich blue and white brocaded satin, lined with white watered silk; body and sleeves trimmed with point lace. Plume of feathers, point lappets, and diamonds.

COUNTESS BRANCALEONE.

Bodice and train of violet Genoa velvet, lined with white silk; mantilla and sabots of rich point lace; petticoat of figured white satin, with flounces of lace to correspond, looped up with rosettes of riband. Head-dress, feathers, point lace lappets; ornaments, diamonds.

COUNTESS STANHOPE.

Dress of black gauze over satin; train of rich black reps, trimmed with bugles; body and sleeves trimmed with rich blond. Plume of feathers, lappets, and diamonds.

COUNTESS DE GREY.

A mantua of rich black satin, trimmed with Brussels point and diamonds; petticoat of black satin, with volans of point. Head dress, white ostrich feathers and diamond tiara.

VISCOUNTESS BOYLE.

Dress of tulle over satin, and trimmed with a double blond flounce; train of rich blue and white glace Pompadour, brocaded in silver; body and sleeves richly trimmed with blond. Plume of feathers, blond lappets, and brilliants.

LONDON AND PARISIAN FASHIONS.

DRESSES.-Longchamps has produced a variety of Spencers; many in velvet; black, green, or dark blue, worn with white dresses, having two or three flounces.

The form of a point is that usually preferred, and the manner of the embroidery, Brandebourgs, or elegant silk embroideries with a double row of buttons, or the same plain, and tastefully indicating the shape, and terminated by a cordelière, which forms a nœud at the end of the point, and the acorns of which fall as low nearly as the first flounce, are favorites.

A black velvet spencer was embroidered with silk loops and small buttons in a row, which serpentined from the shoulders to the ceinture; the collar in old point lace, and narrow sleeves trimmed half-way of the length of the arm with old point, gave an uncommon effect. The skirt was in gros d'été and had flowers to correspond.

An elegant spencer was composed of velvet grenat with embroidery, beautifully executed in relief, on the shoulders, the bust, and wrist, a chocolate colored skirt, with velvet ornaments, completed this toilette.

HATS, CAPS, &c.-On the whole, moderation is the reigning mode, if it may be so termed, where taste and personal appearance are so much cultivated in the choice of designs.

Capotes in Crepe lisse; blue or rose color have great sway as neglegées; the front formed of biais, alternating with lace and ribbons, have a very elegant effect, the barbes of gauze edged with lace, also show to great advantage.

Rice straw Hats are seen, but the ornaments are neither many nor large.

Poult de soie Hats are frequently seen with ladies of ton, in the most delicate shades of color, and with the slightest flowers of the season to harmonize with the shades of the Hats. Lilac, Pama, Violet, and a few of the minute and delicate flowers of the season are preferred.

The Caps à barbe are in great request; they are commonly worn very much back on the head, so as to exhibit to the greatest advantage the elegant and simple coiffures now so much in vogue.

Jasmin is a favorite flower for the embellishment of the very pretty rice-straw Hats that have again made their appearance.

Ribbon, crape, and bright tulle ornaments are also admired, and underneath the brim, rose buds; heather and small delicate flowers show well.

MATERIALS AND COLORS.-Since the vogue of spencers, which have obtained much greater favor, velvet has advanced in estimation, though at a time when the reverse will generally hold. A lighter species of dress material for skirts has also been necessitated from this introduction and Foulards, and gros d'étés ; moires have mustered strong when they otherwise would have been but sparingly seen.

Rose, high and dark blue, high and dark green, black and bronze, have the preference at present.

For Morning Dress, the Mousseline de laine, &c. are chiefly favoured.

For Visiting Dress, the gros d'été, the levantines, gros de Tours, with a ground, white or ecru and sprinkled over with varied and elegant patterns.

For Promenade Dress, the Foulards are seen again in great variety, plain, in checques, stripes, lines, chinis, flowered, and Scotch and other cachemeres.