display their brightest colours, that they may be invited, again and again, to adorn the favoured spot. It almost puts me out of patience, to hear people, like his grace, observe, when some woman is spoken of as capricious, or man as uncertain, "Well, really, I think you are unjust; I have known her many years, and have never experienced, from her, anything the least like caprice"-or, Uncertain? I have uniformly found him one of the most agreeable, obliging persons of my acquaintance!" Of his acquaintance, very probably; but in society less imposing, the claws of pussy's satin paws peep

out.

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By the way, I did observe a little betrayal of temper, even at Merioneth House, the other night. We have got a beautiful Piedmontese countess, a Madame di Campo Fiorito, lately arrived from the Continent; exquisitely lovely, exquisitely fascinating, et qui fait fureur. All we know of her, at present, is, that she is high born and beautiful. Whether mischievous or not, no one can say; and it is amusing to observe the misgivings excited, in certain circles, by her début. The established beauties are, for the moment, thrown into the shade, more especially those on the shady side of noon; for the Campo Fiorito, in her twenty-first year, is delicate of complexion as a blush-rose, and can presume to be singularly simple in her style of dress: no trimmings, no ornaments, no flowers, no jewels-nothing but a plain robe of rich materials -nothing but her fine dark hair. Rouge and frippery are sadly put to the blush by such a contrast. Half a dozen women, whom, last week, I thought charming, seem to have acquired a meretricious air since the countess's arrival. Many look ugly, many old,—all tawdry. Is such a rival to be pardoned?

The panic is considerably augmented by general uncertainty as to her conduct and intentions. Is she a flirt, a coquette, or worse? Impossible to guess. Some tremble for their lovers, some for their husbands, some for their sons. Lady This declares, that nothing is so great an interruption to society as the presence of a professed beauty. Lady That, who, for years past, has been a professed beauty herself, has taken refuge, within the last week, in the pleasures of domestic life, parading in Kensington Gardens, with a group of her interesting children. Lady Clackmannan, who cannot forgive her for having eclipsed Lady Alicia, says, she has a melodramatic air. Lady Cecilia, who attempts the bel esprit, when defeated as a belle, says, she is a magnificent automaton, well wound up; while others protest, she is admirably got up as a “Keepsake" heroine.

This supper at Merioneth House was, I suspect, given in her honour. The duke, who likes every thing beautiful or clever, is prepossessed in her favour, and wishes to place her on a good footing with her rivals. But not a charmer of them

all was to be conciliated. Instead of exerting themselves to overpower the enemy, they sulked, and threw the game into her hands. Some, eager to seem unconscious of her presence, contrived only to look supercilious; others talked at her, and, consequently, flippantly and affectedly; while several had a bad headach (the migraine of an angry French-woman) and could not, or would not, open their lips. I fancy even the good-natured duke might have admitted, on this occasion, that he had seen certain of his fair friends out of humour. 1 observed Lady Clackmannan inquire, of her nameless neighbour, as we rose from table, what he thought of the countess; to which he replied, with an air of indifference, that he had known her, some years ago, at Genoa.

"Apparently you do not admire her so much as the rest of the world?" persisted Lady C.

"On the contrary," he replied, "I have long considered her the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance; but I am not easily infatuated by a woman merely beautiful."

It is curious enough, that, with all our proverbial coldness, no people are subject to such fever-fits of enthusiasm as the English,-fever-fits much resembling the boiling-springs among the snows of Hecla. When we do run mad, it is very mad indeed. But our engouemens are, for the most part, imitative. If we do not invent fashions, we readily adopt them; and seldom throw up our caps in honour of an artist, till his fame is buoyed over the channel, upon the applauses of the whole Continent. Taglioni, Sontag, Paganini, Heberle, were worshipped in London, not as the most accomplished performers of their time, but as the idols of Paris, Berlin and Naples; and we should have cared little, perhaps, for the charms of the Contessa di Campo-Fiorito, had it not been for a puff-preliminary, which appeared, accidentally, in the Morning Post, the day she first appeared at Almack's, giving an account of a fatal duel fought in honour of her beaux yeux, last season, at Florence.

This morning I have had the happiness of a visit from a very dear friend, Lady Southam, who is come to town to take her turn as lady-in-waiting; still the same kind, amiable, straightforward person as when, as Lord Randall's daughter, she used to lecture Armine and myself, in Staffordshire, in the tone of an elder sister, ten years ago. Never was any woman so little calculated for a life of courtiership. Absent, indolent, careless of appearances, the pomps and vanities of life are, to her, absolutely incumbering; and when I ventured to ask her, in all the frankness of our boudoir tête-à-tête, whether she regretted her appointment, she candidly answered in the affirmative.

"Nothing can be more amiable," said she, "than those I have the honour to serve; nothing lighter than the duties I am required to perform. As far as regards Windsor or St. James's,

I have not a complaint to make. But my position in the world is altered for the worse. People attribute to me an influence I do not possess; and which, if I possessed, Lord Southam would never wish to see me exercise. They ask of me the most unreasonable things. People, with whom I have the slightest possible acquaintance, write to me to procure them invitations, places, preferment, and favours of every sort and description. My life is a perpetual No!'-or, rather, a perpetual study of the art of implying a negative without offence. While others of my brother and sister-hood are trying to mag nify their importance in the eyes of the world, my chief business is to be thought twice as little as they choose to suppose me."

6

"I can conceive," said I, "that your pride will not allow you to be a frequent petitioner; still, you must have many opportunities of obliging, without compromising your own dignity."

"Less than you would suppose; and quite as little inclination to profit by them. My comfort in society is destroyed by an unavowed dread, that prevails, of my espionage. In mentioning some trivial fact, people take the liberty of entreating me not to repeat it; which, being interpreted, means, Pray, don't tell the queen;' whom I should just as soon think of accosting with a recital of such trash as mentioning it in my prayers. Even my friends exchange significant looks in my presence, as much as to say, 'Take care-you forget whom you have here--you are getting yourselves into a scrape;' and last winter, Lady Emily Sunderland actually taxed me with having acquainted her majesty that Mr. Sunderland had a stall at the Opera ;-a fact which, as the queen disapproves of dissipation in the clergy, was supposed to have kept them away from the Pavilion balls."

So much for the delicate distresses of a lady in waiting! must now occupy myself with mine. Having a new dress to order for Lady Sittingbourne's breakfast, to which Herbert has consented that dear Armine shall accompany me, I shall choose for her a bonnet and pelisse exactly like my own.

What a diverting morning have I derived from my campaign among the milliners! This breakfast, it seems, has set all the beau-monde vanity-mad. It is the first of the season; and one would think our illustrious beauties had never before enjoyed an occasion of displaying their roses, lilies, and blonde or Brussels veils, on a green lawn. All the juveniles, I observe, are enchanted with the prospect of a breakfast; while those a little on the wane, who dread the exposition of the coming crowsfoot and first gray hair, are trying to creep out of the engagement.

"For my part, I detest sunshine dissipation," drawled Lady Evelyn Beresford, whom I met at Devy's, languishing over a chapeau paille de riz, most appropriately trimmed with belles

de nuit; while the rubicund Mrs. Gresham Ronsham, in a pale pink hat and feathers, stood smiling at herself, like Malvolio, in Devy's looking-glass, the attendant handmaidens protesting that she was "ravissante-faite a peindre!" Away she went in the family coach, hat and bandbox on her knee, lest any more favourite customer should induce Madame D. to play the traitress, and make over, to a less deserving aspirant, her chapeau de Longchamps!

I sometimes fancy that a spirit of malicious perversity instigates the councils of the modiste tribe. They seem to take delight in suggesting primrose or blush colour to the coarse and ruddy, cerise and coquelicot to the red-haired, and green or blue to the sallow and insipid. Of a certainty they have some cause for guignon against their customers! How often do we see handsome, well-mannered girls, who would themselves so well become the wares they are fated to manufacture, stand, hour after hour, in a close show-room, exposed to the most harassing impertinence, the most perplexing caprices! The fine lady, who fancies the destinies of mankind dependent upon the folds of her silver turban, commands and countermands, wrangles, disputes, revokes, and changes her mind, thirty times in half as many minutes; till the poor, tired victim of her arrogance at length inscribes in the tablets of her brain a feather falling to the right for a feather falling to the left; and on the morrow, Lady Theodolinda returns, the detested turban in her hand, and the offender is summoned before a court millinerial, to be broke or reprimanded. Her ladyship threatens to withdraw her custom and patronage, unless justice is done upon the stupid young person who thought proper to take her orders; and floods of tears are drawn down the fair cheeks of the poor apprentice, who has an aged mother dependent for bread upon her salary, because Lord Charles happened to pass Lady Theodolinda in the crush-room without notice, owing (as she supposes) to the frightful fall of that .detestable feather.

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"The great ladies have much to answer for, madam, for their conduct towards us," said a good sort of motherly mantua-maker, with whom I once conversed on the subject. They come to us persisting that they have not a gown to wear, that they shall be obliged to stay away from some dinner or ball, unless we send home a dress by a particular day and hour; and the poor overtasked young women in my employ are, consequently, obliged to sit up another night, in addition to the ten or twelve they have been passing without restpale, wan, exhausted, and in danger of falling into consumption, for want of air, exercise, and sleep. But, when the dress is taken home, the first thing that strikes the eye of the heartsick apprentice, in the lady's dressing-room, is a choice of half a dozen gowns, silk, satin, lace, blue, pink, and white, laid out for selection; many of them never worn. It is enough, madam,

to make liars of our young people, when they find themselves so falsely dealt with. Again," she resumed, finding me give ear to her accusations, "what a lesson for a simple-hearted young girl, such as the great number of those apprenticed to me by respectable parents,-farmers or tradesmen,-to be introduced into the dressing-room of a fine lady, and pass half an hour waiting there, with the confidential maid! Such discreditable secrets as she is likely to hear, such discreditable secrets to see!-cosmetics, washes, paints; beautifications for the hair, teeth, eye-brows, complexion; false ringlets, false braids, false pads for every part of the figure! And from this abode of deceit and extravagance, strewed with billet-doux and unpaid bills, I expect her to come home pure and uncorrupted, to be industrious, frugal, and, above all, willing to forget her possession of those attractions which she has seen thus disgracefully counterfeited by one, who happens to be born in a more prosperous condition of life than her own. Believe me, madam, a sad example is shown by our great ladies!"

I fear I did not bear this lecture in mind, when I proceeded on my bonnet-hunt this morning, but it was forcibly recalled to me at Howell and James's, where Lady Christina Rwhom I never saw by day-light, except half-hidden in her vis á vis, with her face surrounded by blonde, was trying on a hat. As she turned to recover her bonnet from the table behind her, her face was fully revealed by broad day from the sky-light; and the coating of rouge and pearl-powder was disgusting. The white lead looked blue: and the eyes, glazed with dissipation, seemed the only vital portion of the face. What a lesson! what a degradation of the sex!

Nothing can be simpler than the dresses I have chosen for my sister and myself. Herbert will have no excuse for renewing his frequent charge against me of looking like La Reine de Golconde.

Clarence Delaval honoured me, last night, by a confidence of his passion for his cousin Alicia, with which I could have well dispensed; for I can be of no service to the young people, and shall greatly offend the old ones by even wishing them well. Clarence's prospects, poor fellow, are far from brilliant. Sir Jenison Delaval, who, being a valetudinarian, will watergruelize himself to the age of eighty, having only four thousand a year, can make no great settlement on his son; and though Clarence is next heir to Delaval Castle and the Irish property, I have no desire that my good brother-in-law should make way for him. Lady Alicia has been brought up as delicately and luxuriously as becomes the only daughter of the house of Clackmannan, and is just fit to live in the heart of a rose, and be nourished on its perfume. It will not do! I shall persuade Lady Celia to send Clarence off to the Continent as soon as possible.