Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

the field under cover of the night: the thoughts of his slaughtered countrymen, and of his disappointed hopes, deriving probably new bitterness from the recollection of the warning and the promised safety in the morning. Whether in desponding self-reproach, or desirous of taking his last look at earthly objects among scenes that once were dear and familiar to him, he returned to the edge of a pool which divided the lawn before the mansion of his honoured master; and standing in full view of the house, he drew a handkerchief over his face, and plunged headlong into the water.

In a few days his body was discovered, and proclaimed his fate, which had hitherto been unknown. His remains were decently interred by the order of Mr. Mahon, and covered with a modest stone which is yet without an epitaph, but over which the sympathising traditions of the country people still relate the story of his gentleness, his prowess, and his fate.

THE SUBALTERN'S WIDOW,

BY A PICKEN, AUTHOR OF THE DOMINIE'S LEGACY.

It is not worth making a story about, for indeed there is no story in it, but yet it made an impression on my mind, and interested my feelings, an occurence that happened in my neighbourhood, one time while I lived in a grand house in the outskirts of the notable city of London.

How I came to be lodged in such a fine mansion, and to live in common conjugation with great sort of people, matters not to what I have to say, and would look but like a vanity for me here to tell. But there I was, dwelling in a noble terrace that had a fine name, with a powdered-headed servant to attend me, as if I had been "my lord"; and so I was, conforming, as well as in me lay, to the elaborate formalities of high gentility.

It was very good, no doubt, and very easy and sweet, this kind of life; but yet I felt a sort of loneliness through it all, as if I had been living in some desolate island, far abroad, and had nothing to talk to but fine birds with fine plumage on lofty branches, who spoke a different language from my own. So I grew meditative and thoughtful, as if I had been unhappy, which I was not, and began to watch at my window for something to divert me.

I could see from my bed room at the rear of the great houses, a small building of a poorish sort, which might be called a cottage, if the mason who made it had known what he intended by it, when he set it up. The cottage, or whatever else it might be called, was far from handsome or orthodox in its shape; but when I came to look at it, as I passed in my walks in the morning, it seemed to be kept so neat within and without, and the steps of the door were always so white, and the little brass knocker was so brightly burnished, that I was sure somebody lived in it that deserved to be remarked. Then I could see a genteel lady in widow's weeds, retire modestly from the window as I passed, and sometimes in the turning down of the evening, she would step cautiously out with a widow's timidity, to give a retired airing to her two little daughters.

Next, I observed her go out of a rare evening, leaning on the arm of a tall and fragile-looking young man, who, by

the care she appeared to take of him, and the motherly feeling that beamed in her eye as she conversed soberly with him as they went, appeared to me exceedingly like the widow's only son. After this, I could see at a little window in the cottage opposite mine, this youth labouring early and late at some sedentary study, and lastly, I learned by accident that the student was an artist, who had already distinguished himself, and, working constantly at his weary employment, was thought to be the chief dependence of the widow's family.

I was now interested-I was almost concerned for the young man, as well as for his sad and lady-like mother; for they were both so pale, and seemed so serious, and had such a sensitive and intellectual look, and as for him, notwithstanding his modest dress and bare-brushed coat, there was such a dignity in his bearing, and a loftiness in his eye, that, be he situated as he might, I could have sworn he was the son of a gentleman. But the thing that affected me in looking at the two, was, the excessively delicate expression, amounting almost to palpable consumption, that often showed itself upon the blanched, and at times almost ghastly, cheek of the industrious artist; and as the solitary lady grasped his arm with a mother's warmth, and watched his face with a mother's solicitude, I involuntarily asked myself the question, 'what would she do, and how would they bear it, if this young man were to take to his bed and die ?" A foolish foreboding this might be; yet I could not get the painful thought out of my head, especially when I saw how constantly and dangerously the youth applied himself, no doubt in anxiety, for the support of his mother; and I would have given anything for the opportunity of warning him against running thus wilfully into an untimely grave.

And yet, I sometimes thought that my own sympathy was deceiving me; for I found him one fine day out alone, sketching in the fields; and he sat with such manliness on his portable chair, and transferred to the portfolio before him the surrounding objects of the landscape with such evident delight, and his sparkling dark eye caught the glimpses of the clouds that passed over his head, with such evident enthusiasm and his youthful countenance hanged so like a mirror, with the changes of the sky and the effects of the sunshine-and he seemed to drink in with such delight the inspiration of nature, that I almost envied the glorious feelings of genius; and my heart promised me that he would live to be a comfort to his mother. Watching him for a time I gradually drew near, and using the privilege of an old man, I looked at his work and addressed him -wishing success to his pleasing labours, but reminding him that the grass seemed to be rather damp under his feet. The smile with which he turned up his face and looked at me, and the emotion with which he thanked me for the interest I took concerning him, shot home to my heart with an inward comfort, reminding me of those blessed days-if ever they existed-when man had some relish for the pleasures of sympathy, and was not afraid of making his neighbour's happiness a part of his own.

One night after this, as I was retiring to bed rather late, --for I had been out banquetting with the high people with whom I lived, and had not spent the night very much to my own satisfaction-I cast my eyes as usual towards the little cottage, dimly seen from the rear of the terrace, and had my own moralizings concerning the internal and actual difference of things. All within the little dwelling was

J

dark as it ought; but suddenly I saw a quick illumination set up in the young man's bed-room. Other lights then began to be carried about the house, and figures to move hastily to and fro, as if something alarming had happened: a messenger issued from the door, and ran hastily up the street, and soon returned accompanied by a man in a cloak. I saw them all congregate into his room; I could observe the widow go about by the bedside wringing her hands. The whole case was now clear to me, and the necessity for sending for the medical man in the middle of the night, realized my most melancholy and fatal forebodings. I could not think of sleep, I could not even go to bed, for watching from my window the distracted motions of the unhappy widow; as, through the long and still hours of night, I could observe her sit by the couch of her beloved son, anticipating, no doubt, nothing but death and desolation, and rocking herself to and fro in the excess of her

sorrow.

"How much better it would have been," said I to myself, "to have been assisting by my services this disconsolate family, from whom the world has fled as usual, because it is in misfortune, than wasting my time in banquetting and chambering as I have done this night, with the thoughtless sons of luxury, that now sleep at their ease along this great terrace, and little know or care what is felt at this moment by that poor lady and her children.”

But penetrating thoughts concerning the world are sad and disheartening, and I became benumbed as I sat in the stillness of night, making many resolves for the morrow, which I knew not how to execute; for I was now a great man, at least I lived with great people, who never know any one in poverty and misfortune, and could not be supposed to concern themselves about the inward sufferings of this reduced family. And so I crept into bed, almost ashamed that I was a man, and I dreamt all the morning how that I was clothed with purple and fine linen, and yet I thought I was a bloated creature, with a head like a swine, sitting amidst golden cups and purple grapes, that tempted my senses and gorged my appetite, and yet misery and sorrow were on my right hand and my left: and I turned my head away, and would not look at it, because this was the way of other swine, with which I found myself in company.And behold, the cry of the distressed arose in my ears, like a terrible trump of accusation; and I awoke in horror at my own nature, and I saw that the blessed sun shone like a glory in at my window; and the pangs of the night were so oppressive upon my spirit, that I contemplated with a sort of conscious guiltiness the downy pillows on which I lay, and the silken curtains and gilded mouldings above me, which seemed to mock me with their grandeur, for I knew what I was, and to reproach me in the bitter scorn of human pride, with the complex iniquities and far extended sorrows, that are inevitable upon the selfishness of luxury.

But I arose and made a prayer with my face towards the sun, which shineth alike upon the high and the lowly; and then good words came into my mind, and I comforted myself with the strength of my resolves; "for," said I, “the forms of society are but of the excuses of selfishness, and I will this very day go and offer my poor services to this friendless widow."

The day advanced, however, and passed away, and like Hamlet, the Dane, in a higher case, I had not the strength to do what I resolved, for when at one time I went to the door

of the cottage, and observed the blinded windows, and the retired look of every thing, and thought within myself of the sacredness of affliction,-which, from the just suspicions of experience, shuts out the world, to brood in silence over its own sorrow,-my timid weakness came on again, and I had not the courage to give a stranger's knock at the gate. Silly man that I was! to think that I was not an imitative animal like the rest of the world, and that I had not much strength to imitate others in the things that were evil, but little indeed to deviate from example, towards that which was good!

Again, when night came on, I saw the lonely widow watching and rocking herself by her son's bedside. Another night arrived, and I could not sleep for observing her, for still the solitary candle burnt dim behind the little curtain throughout the long watches of the night, and still she sat by the weary couch; and no one came day nor night to that desolate cottage, but the constant doctor with the black cloak, who had a fee to receive out of the house of poverty, and wrung a penny out of the last wreck of the widow's misfortunes! "I see what will be the end of this," said I, "according to the usual procedure of the worldbut the plumed hearse shall not come to the door to carry away that young man to the grave, nor the undertaker and the landlord arrive to complete the ruin of the helpless, before I at least try to get speech of this lady."

I at length got courage to knock at the cottage door, and from the confusion probably of the family, I found myself at once asked to walk up stairs. I had a sensible feeling of the involuntary awe, inspired by suffering, and by virtue struggling with distress, as the door of the chamber was softly opened to me, and I entered into the quiet sanctuary of the sick. The wan countenance of the poor lady, and her look of despairing apprehension towards her son, almost filled me with terror to observe it. Never have I seen a handsome face in the early part of middle life, for she could not yet be five and thirty, so altered in a few days by watching and anxiety. It was even more changed than that of the sick young man who lay stretched on the couch beside her, and who at once seemed to recognize my face, and replied to my enquiry with his former serious but now languid smile. The lady and her son regarded me for a moment in evident expectation, which I, feeling that I could not properly answer, stood looking at both, with unanticipated embarrassment. Misfortune is suspicious, from bitter experience of the world: and I saw the lady's eye kindle into a meaning, as she surveyed my plain exterior, and stupified look; and she asked me with some abruptness what might be my business.

"Madam," I began to say, but there was a nervousness over my tongue-“ Madam, I stand before you doubtless as a stranger, but in the house of sickness which I have watched for some time, it appears to me friends are not plenty." "It would be a new thing if they were, Sir," she replied, as the world's way is-but if known friends and former associates desert the widow in her calamity, surely strangers may spare her feelings, and need not come unsought to intermeddle with her grief.”

[ocr errors]

"Madam," I rejoined, a plain tale is best. The chances of life have domiciled me at present in that grand terrace, which, like the rich man with the poor, loftily overlooks this modest cottage. From my chamber window in Sir William Brisban's house, where I sit among high people, like a sparrow on the house-top, I have observed your son

labouring at his study, until sickness hath laid the poor lad low; and for him and for you I have, unknown to you both, been deeply interested. For though I live at present under the wings of the great, I have little part or lot in high born haughtiness, and have not found worth or genius so plenty in the world, that I should disregard it in the person of a struggling artist and his reduced mother. You will excuse me, Madam, but I have watched this door since your son fell ill, and seen no one enter but the cormorants of the sick, and the mercenary servants of bare necessity. I know the helplessness of a woman without a man-friend in the circumstances of the widow; and if you will accept of my poor services, to sit with your son in the night watches, and relieve you in your weary attendance; or, if you will permit me to aid you in any attempt to thaw, on your behalf, the bleakness of the world, it will bring more pleasure and profit to my own heart, than all the banqueting in that wealthy terrace."

The surprise of the lady seemed to grow upon her as I spoke, but still she made no reply. "Madam," I continued, "are friends so plenty, and is the world so kind in your circumstances, that you refuse the proffer of a plain man.' "Friends, Sir," she said, "I once had friends,—as I thought, but it is few of them will follow where misfortune leads; and here I am left alone to death and desolation, and that in my hour of saddest trouble; "-and casting a look at her sick son, the distressed widow burst out into a flood of tears.

"Excuse her, Sir-excuse my poor mother," said the youth, addressing me faintly from the bed; "want of sleep, and depression, has made her nervous. Mother, do not feel thus deeply. I know I shall get better, and here is a gentleman come to us who has the look of a friend. Be seated, Sir, until my mother is able to speak."

"I feel I am not as I was, Sir," she said, "far from as strong as when this dear youth's father was alive; besides, I am ill myself with care and watching, so you will please excuse me. You have come to me from Providence in the moment of grief, I will therefore confide in you, for I perceive your sincerity. My husband was killed in battle, far from his own; and I never had the satisfaction of closing his eyes or hearing any particulars of his last moments. My second son I buried since I became a widow, and the pretty boy was laid in a grave without the sanctity of a father's tears, and I had to bear the trial, without the strengthening of a husband's support;-but if this my eldest son and last hope is taken from me--if I see him laid out a corpse in that bed, and carried in his coffin out of this cottage-Sir" added the widow in a despairing whisper"I know not what will be the end of it-I shall go out of my senses!"

I shrank involuntarily from the look of the poor lady as she uttered this, and I felt at the moment that the house of mourning, or even of apprehended desolation, such as was here before me, was no better than it was called. I nevertheless spoke to the sufferer such words of comfort and hope as came into my mind. What I said I hardly know, for my own head was not clear; but tears of gratitude began to stream down the lady's cheeks as we became acquainted, and she said I was a friend who had come to them like a messenger, when all friends had forsaken them. Even the eyes of the youth began to sparkle, as I talked hopefully of returning health, and of his yet resuming his art; and answering me as well as his weakness would allow,

he raised himself upon his elbow to look at me, and to converse with me in the awakened animation of his feelings.

What a sovereign thing is sympathy, in some of the exigences of life! What a wretched creature is man, that he should still fly from his neighbour at the moment of his calamity, lest the slightest call should be made upon his own selfishness. Yet how small a service, how little a countenance, if it comes at the trying hour of need, may sometimes serve to turn the tide of mental depression, from indolent despair to active hope, mingled ever with joy.— Something of this I was enabled to do for these sufferers, even now before I left them.

"Oh, if my boy had only leisure," said his mother"and air, and the exhiliration of hope, and the encouragement of a friend, perhaps he might yet recover, and we might all be saved. But this continual labour, that bears down the necessitous,-this unceasing study, that is the lot of genius in obscurity-has brought him to the grave's edge, and all is likely to be lost for us and for him."

And so I saw that the real root of the matter was the old story after all, namely, that unrighteous Mammon, which keeps man separated from his fellow, and even virtuous purposes from finding their object, and buries worth and genius in the grave of its own helplessness. But I learned enough from the reduced widow to have my own thoughts upon the matter, and to indulge the pleasure of my own purposes. The pride of high-minded poverty, I thought, sometimes overshoots itself, and bad as the world is, does it occasional injustice. From some hints dropped by the lady, about several early acquaintances whose names she mentioned, but who from the natural shame of sinful want, they had lost sight of for several years, I took my staff in my hand, and went forth on a journey to see what I cauld do.

Far had I to go, and many enquiries I had to make, before I could even find out those of whom she had spoken: for easy wealth dwells high above the clouds of misfortune, and builds around itself a wall of tripple brass, to exclude the painful intrusions of complaint. Never had I gone forth with more ardent purposes, or more pleasing hopes: and never did I return with more bitter disappointment. It is hard to bleed a flint stone, but harder to move the obduracy of luxury; jealous to nervousness of the conservation of its enjoyments, and never having enough to spend upon itself. "The more you seek into the world," said I to myself, in my bitterness, "the more you will be convinced that man is a wretch, whom circumstances are capable of making into a detestable creature, impervious alike to feeling and religion; and upon whom the blessed sun that dispenses his beams even upon the evil and the unthankful, is not worthy to shine." This had been my experience on many occasions, and it was so now, evinced through all the usual subterfuges and polite excuses of the occasion; yet one or two gave me a slight hope, and, suppressing as I could my own feelings, I returned with sadness to the widow's cottage.

To my surprise I found the youth a little better, and his mother and he received me as if I had been an actual benefactor, so powerful is even the notion of assistance to those who are in trouble. This determined me to be somewhat a hypocrite regarding the world; and, as is generally done with youth, to paint things better than they were, to give the sick youth a salutary hope. I saw what he wanted, and

[ocr errors]

what would make him well. As he lay on his bed balancing between life and death, his thoughts were running upon Italy, and the glories of art which it contained; and the bare idea of his being spared in life, and yet getting to see it, by some possibility of fortune, revived him almost into promised convalescence. Iflattered the notion, though my heart trembled for the result. I talked of cloudless skies and warm breezes the sunny plains of glorious beauty! and of the green olive, and the clustering vine-and the enchanting valley of the Arno-and the white palaces of Florence— and the classical treasures of Milan-and the healthful gaities of Naples, and, last and highest, the nameless and exhaustless glories of the eternal city; until the poor youth was ready to leap from his couch, and his eyes sparkled with joyful hope, and his tongue uttured nature's poetry, until his mother burst into tears at his sudden inspiration, and begged I would not excite him by delicious anticipations, that might yet end in the accustomed disappointment. But I had caught the enthusiasm myself, and said she should not be disappointed, for her son should live and get well, and should go to Italy to be a painter yet, and a great man of course, and the pride and blessing of her and his sisters.

"And when," said the youth, "has the friend you have spoken of promised to come to me? Oh! if he will befriend me now, I will paint him pictures that shall more than repay him, according to the value of the world, for this immense favor."

"In three days, Sir," said I-"in three days-no doubt; so keep up your heart, and get well, and be happy : think only of health and the warm plains of Italy, and you will see that what I expect shall be accomplished." As soon as I had uttered these words, I hurried out of the house, for fear he should ask me any more questions.

"Am I mad?" said I to myself when I had left them, "to raise the hopes of the unfortunate by absolute falsehood, to aggravate the sorrow of the needy, by the baseness of deception. Is all my knowledge of the world gone for naught, that I should expect the powerful to do a service to the obscure in private, or to care for the unfortunate to the extent of any real act of beneficence. What am I to do now ? What is this family to do ? I am worse than an idiot, to think to enjoy in my own person luxuries to which I never have been born; namely, the luxury of rejoicing the hearts of others, by doing them services in the time of necessity."

For the next few days I was almost desperate. I spoke to some of my great acquaintances, but they refused me in the most polite terms of benevolent cordiality, reminding me that it was impossible to assist every one, which of course was a good reason that they should trouble themselves about none. The third day came, and the day after that, and no one entered the solitary cattage; and I began to be ashamed, and the youth seemed to grow worse, though perhaps actually getting better; for the spirits of all had greatly sunk, and suspended want and apprehending misery began to draw close around the family. I took once more my staff in my hand, and went to try again some who had known the widow in better days.

Why should I tell the particulars of my enquiries and representations. It is only the old story repeated; for sympathy of itself is a weak motive with most men, and I had no means of addressing the vanity or the fear of the common-place people of the world.

I was returning from a great man's house through a file of servants, when one of the men of livery who accompanied me to the door, asked me if I had not mentioned above stairs, the name of Ensign Lorimer's widow. When I had answered him in the affirmative, and told something of her story, and given her address, as he requested, the man wrote it down with a sort of triumphant look, but I did not see any particular meaning in it, and so I returned weary and disheartened to the widow's cottage.

I was shocked at the change which again appeared in the countenance of the disappointed youth: and still more at the effects both upon him and his mother, of returning depression. It was of little use to speak more of hope: for the grave and its desolation was again the theme of the lady, and the bitter and affecting bewailing of her husband. My only resource was now to Providence, which sometimes, as I argued, brings about strange relief in the very last hour of difficulty;-when our conversation was disturbed by a message by the servant, that two strangers waited below to see Mrs. Lorimer. "If they come with bad news,” she replied calmly, "I am prepared; for no good news ever comes to me. Bring them up into this room.”

[blocks in formation]

66

I

Unexpected circumstances, Madam, prevented me from returning to this country until a few days ago," he added, "and from delivering up my trust to its rightful owner. was near Mr. Lorimer soon after he fell, and he charged me, if Providence spared me to return home in safety, to carry to you these valuable tokens of his deep love for you, and his dying anxiety for his children. This day only was I enabled to find you, through an old soldier in your husband's company," and he pointed to the servant behind him, who had addrested me so unexpectedly the day before. "This is what your late husband put into my hands,” he continued, "as I received his last blessing upon you and his children. It is part of the chance produce of war, which he had gained when we were all getting some spoil, and which may perhaps be useful now to you and your family," and opening a small case, which the servant carried, the young man produced a bagful of foreign coins, and several jewels of considerable value, which he respectfully handed to the widow.

The scene that now followed may not easily be described. The joy, mixed with grief and interesting recollections, and with the astonished sense of providential relief, giving new born hope at the moment of despair. The thankful feelings of the now happy family, were further enhanced when it came to be discovered, that the young stranger who had hoarded for them for several years all this wealth, was the son of an old and dear friend of the family, who had known the sick youth when a boy, and now enthusiastically entering into his views, flattered his hopes of resumed health, and offered to accompany him to Italy as soon as he could travel.

From this hour I saw the tide wholly turn, from sickness and depression, to health and hope. In a few weeks after, I saw the recovered artist depart for Italy, with a bounding heart and a sparkling eye. The whole family accompanied him, for this was the arrangement, and many blessings they prayed upon me, which I little deserved. Never shall

I forget the youth's expressions as he shook me by the hand, or the happy termination of the obscure trials of the widow and her son, which happened while I lived in a grand terrace in the notable city of London.

THE LESSON.

FROM A LOVER.

I send thee not, my fond fair girl,
One gift of cost or of worth,

I send thee nought, my bosom friend,
But hopes of a warm heart's birth.

No treasures are mine from a foreign shore,
No relics of high wrought art;

But better than work from the Persian loom,
Or Indian gem, or a treasure from Rome,
Is a woman's loving heart.

That heart is thine thou knowest full well,
And thou knowest it pure and free,

And its kindest wish, and its fondest hope,
For ever flies to thee,

And instead of the gauds of this vain, vain world,

Its foolish toys and its mirth,

I'd have thee decked with a virtuous mind,
Mingling with spirits good and kind,
Spirits of kindred worth.

My choicest hope and fond delight,

I would that such things could be!

Were to tend thee, and watch thee carefully,
From every danger free.

To ward off the ills and bring down the bliss,

In this wayward world throughout,

Give thee strength to endure, and teach thee wFor the proudest at times to the ills must bowThat compass us about.

To teach thee how, from the saddest source, Pleasure will oftime spring,

As the bird is known, though lost its mate,
Again to take the wing.

As the flower droops again to revive,
And laugh in the face of day-

As the bee from poison its honey distills,
And the stormy clouds from murmuring rills,
That dance in the sunny ray.

And I'd have thee know, my gentle girl,
Though thy summer friends are gone,
Though grief may follow the parting scene,
Thou art not left alone.

For memory, constant guest, will still
Call up the days you love,
Re-say the words, and re-sing the songs,
Recall all that to them belongs,

And the kindest of all will prove.

[blocks in formation]

HER MAJESTY'S DRAWING-ROOM.

The Queen held a Drawing-Room on Thursday, the 21st at St. James's Palace. Her Majesty, attended by her suite, arrived shortly before two o'clock, in three carriages, from Buckingham Palace, escorted by a party of Life Guards.

The Queen's Guard of the Foot Guards, with their band, was on duty in the Colour-court, and a Guard of Honour of the Life Guards was stationed in the large court-yard of the Palace. Her Majesty's Honourable Corps of Gentlemen-atArms were stationed in the State rooms, and also in the portrait gallery and presence chamber. Messrs. Dobell and Hulse, the State Pages, and the Pages of Her Majesty, were on duty in their State uniforms.

The Duchess of Gloucester arrived attended by Lady Caroline Legge and Colonel Sir Samuel G. Higgins. Her Royal Highness entered by the garden gate.

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge came attended by Miss Kerr and Sir William Davison.

The Hereditary Grand Duke of Saxe Weimar was attended by M. de Wagner and Captain Count de Benst.

The Duke of Sussex and the Princess de Leiningen also came to the Drawing-Room.

Her Majesty received their Royal and Serene Highnesses in the Royal closet.

The principal Knights of the several Orders of Knighthood who attended the Drawing-Room wore their respective collars.

The Queen entered the throne room, attended by the Marchioness of Normanby (in Waiting), the Marchioness of Tavistock, the Countess of Charlemont, Lady Lyttleton, and the Countess of Burlington, Ladies of the Bedchamber; Hon. Miss Cocks (in Waiting), Hon. Miss Cavendish (in Waiting), Hon. Miss Pitt, Hon. Miss Murray, Hon. Miss Paget, and the Hon. Miss Anson, Maids of Honour; Lady Caroline Barrington (in Waiting), Lady Charlotte Copley, Hon. Mrs. Brand, Lady Harriet Clive, Hon. Mrs. George Campbell, Lady Gardiner, and Viscountess Forbes, Women of the Bedchamber; Lord Byron, Lord in Waiting; Mr. Rich, Groom in Waiting; and Colonel Wemyss, Equerry in Waiting; her Majesty's train being supported by Master Cavendish and Master Chichester, Pages of Honour.

LADIES' DRESSES.

Her Majesty.-A dress of rich white satin, trimmed with a deep blonde flounce, the body and sleeves splendidly ornamented with diamonds and blonde; train of beautiful white satin, brocaded in gold and colors (of Spitalfields manufacture) lined with white satin, and elegantly trimmed with a wreath of arbutus. Headdress, a magnificent diamond diadem, feathers, and lappets.

H. R. H. The Duchess of Cambridge.-A blonde net dress, over white satin, trimmed with blonde and flowers; rich white satin train, embroidered with gold; body and sleeves trimmed with blonde, and magnificently ornamented with sapphires and diamonds. Headdress, plume of feathers, diadem of sapphires and diamonds; necklace and ear rings to correspond.

Duchess of Bedford.-Court costume, composed of a Chantilly blonde dress, over rich white satin; train and body of rich green striped watered silk, lined with satin, and trimmed with blonde; blonde fichu and ruffles. Headdress, plume of feathers, blonde lappets, and diamonds.

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinuar »