which encircles the face. Others have a knot on one side, the ends of which fall low upon the cheek, and some are ornamented in the centre with an agraffe of flowers or ribbons. We have remarked as the most novel trimmings for the interior of hats, a new kind of wreath, narrow in the centre and large at the sides; also diadems of black dwarf flowers. Since hats begin to be trimmed so much inside of the brim, they are placed very far back upon the head; the crowns are of moderate height, and but lightly ornamented. White feathers are still considered as the most elegant ornaments of rice straw hats; the bouquet is always formed of two long or three short feathers. A bird of Paradise is also a favorite ornament for rice straw hats, but only for private parties, it is never adopted for the public promenades, or for a reunion champetre.

Among the most elegant hats adopted for the latter, we may cite those of rice straw of a round shape, lined with straw colored crape and ornamented with a knot of straw colored gauze ribbons, figured and fringed with white. These hats though not so fashionable as those we have described above, are yet adopted by some very elegant women; they are much admired for their tasteful simplicity, and are generally becoming. A mixture of straw colour and white is at this moment highly fashionable.

Ceinture buckles are now but little worn, as the waistribbon is generally tied in bows and ends before. Fashionable colours are wild rose, rose de Bengal, emerald, and apple green, straw colour, azure blue, lilac of the two shades, and pale nut colour.

LETTER PROM PARIS.

Rue St. Dominique, Faubourg St. Germain.

MY DEAR FRIEND,-You were right in thinking that the attempt of the execrable Fieschi had been the cause of making many of the English leave Paris, but all apprehension for the public safety was soon over; nor did the horrible catastrophe make that deep impression which might be ex pected. But the determination which government has taken in consequence, to fetter the press, has roused the indignation of the whole nation. Louis Philip seems, like Richard,

to have "set his life upon a cast," for this measure will either secure his now tottering throne, or totally overthrow it. In the mean time, numerous arrests have taken place; crowds of unfortunates have been hurried from the bosoms of their families to dungeons, where they languish, and are likely to languish without trial. The police has its spies every where, and the good Parisians, after passing the morning in pathetic lamentation for the loss of their liberty, enjoy themselves in the evening at Franconi's amphitheatre, the concerts of the Champs Elysées, or the opera, with as much zest as if the liberty of laughing, singing, and dancing, was all sufficient for happiness.

The last new piece, L'Isle des Pirates, has brought overflowing houses to the opera. This success is, however, rather due to the talent of Fanny Elsler than to the merit of the piece. She seems to have perfectly fascinated the Parisians; or rather, I ought to say, she has divided them into two parties, the Elslerites and the Taglioniites. However, great as her popularity is, and it is deservedly so, La Déesse de la danse, as the Parisians call Taglioni, has still a majority of

votes.

There seems to be quite a mania for sea bathing this year. Several of our friends are gone to Boulogne; it is this year to the Parisians what Brighton used to be to the English; and I am informed, is so thronged, that it is very difficult to get accommodation, which of course makes people ten times more desirous than they otherwise would be to go there. I believe we shall follow the example of our neighbours, and be off for a few weeks. My womankind are very desirous just now to leave Paris: my wife, in fact, has been in a pitiable state ever since Fieschi's attempt. She is persuaded that he is only one of a gang of conspirators, and that though his plot has failed, another may be expected every day to break out. I do not partake of her fears, but there is no use in arguing with nervous people, so I think it will be the best way to remove her from Paris for a short time. A melancholy catastrophe that has been occasioned indirectly by it, has also helped to pray upon her mind. A young workwoman was some time ago recommended to my daughter, who took a great fancy to her, and employed her very frequently. She was an orphan, the principal support of a widowed mother, She had for some time been courted by a

young journeyman cabinet-maker, whom she agreed to marry on condition that her mother should always remain with her. A condition to which the young man willingly acceeded. Indeed, I must observe, that filial affection seems a lively sentiment among the French; it is rare to see children abandon their parents, or even neglect them in their old age. I have been frequently struck with the difference in this respect between the generality of the lower class in England and France. With us, when a young man or woman marries, they become, in a great degree, estranged from their parents, and it seldom happens that the daughter or son-in-law treats the old people with the duty and affection of a child. The contrary is frequently the case here, and it is also common for the old and young people to live together in perfect harmony. But to return to my subject. The three days of the revolution were, as you know, to be commemorated by popular fêtes, and Jeannette looked forward with great glee to the enjoyment of them, but she found, for the first time, that her lover's inclinations were not the same as hers. Antoine was no partizan of the revolution, and he declared that he would have nothing to do with the celebration of it. Jeannette cared nothing for the revolution, but she cared a great deal for three holidays; besides, she had bought a new cap and sundry articles to cut a figure at the fêtes, and a still weightier consideration was the giving up her own will to please her lover. No, that she would not do! it would be so mean spirited; if Monsieur Antoine did not chuse to go with her, why he might stay at home; she need not be at a loss for company. Antoine knew that very well, for Jeannette had rejected more than one smart suitor on his account, and fearing that his obstinate refusal would cause a breach with his pretty mistress, he consented to accompany her, but he did it with evident reluctance; and as they were going to see the procession he stopped suddenly, saying, that he had a presentiment that something terrible would happen, and begged of her to turn back. She refused with some bitterness. "Well," cried he, "you shall have your way, but mind you will repent it." At the moment that the infernal inachine exploded Antoine was covered by the blood of one of the victims, close to whom he was standing. The sight had such an effect upon Jeannette that she instantly lost her

senses, and up to the present moment has shewn no symptom of returning sanity. She is persuaded that Antoine has fallen, and her lamentations and the blame she throws upon herself would really move a heart of stone. See knows nobody. Her mother, she says, has died of grief, and she is now quite alone in the world. Poor unfortunate! The mother and the lover, whom she so bitterly laments are incessant in their endeavours to alleviate her sufferings. We have procured for her the first medical advice, but up to the present time there does not appear to be a hope of her recovery.

I quitted my pen for a moment, to take leave of a young poet, who is returning in high dudgeon to his native province, after having unsuccesfully attempted to make his fortune, first, by bringing out a tragedy, and secondly, by obtaining a rich wife, or at least a wife who, as he himself had nothing, might either by her having a few thousands, or very good connections, be able to set him forward in the world. Matrimony, however, was to be his dernier resource, and in truth, I believe he never thought of it, till he found that it was impossible to get his tragedy represented. In vain did he make the tour of the theatres, offering to transform it into a melodrama, when he found all hopes of getting it represented in its original shape were vain. The managers were all inflexible. Some found one fault, some another; in short, every one had some reason to give for rejecting it, and poor Pat last reduced to despair, and with scarcely money enough to carry him home again, was on the point of returning to accept of an offer, which he had scornfully rejected, of keeping the books of a relation, a rich tradesman; when he happened to see an advertisement froin a marriage broker, who informed the public, that gentlemen applying at Rue ―, No.-, might depend upon being treated with perfect honour and secrecy. Nota bene; there was no retaining fee expected. This last information was very much to the poor poet's taste. It was clear in his opinion that there could be nothing to lose, but there might be a great deal to gain. So away he hastened to the priestess of Hymen, for the advertisement came from a lady. He was shewn into a room, which served the double purpose of an office and a parlour, it was handsomely furnished, but in the centre was a desk;

the poet's eye glanced upon ten large ledger-looking books, bound in the true counting-house fashion, and lettered at the back, "Marriages concluded." By the side of the heap lay a single volume of the same size, lettered "Marriages to be concluded."

The young man's heart bounded; so many marriages concluded, what a happy omen for him! However, when the office-keeper, a grave looking elderly woman, appeared, he could not for some moments muster up resolution to tell her his business. At last, out it came. He wished to meet with a lady, worth about four thousand pounds in her own power, As to the lady's birth or personal accomplishments, he was not at all particular on that score; but the money was ab solutely necessary, in order to enable him to execute some projects that would secure to them comfort and affluence for the rest of their days.

The old lady listened very attentively, and when he had finished, she said, with a very satisfied air, "Really, sir, you are lucky, for it happens that I have at this moment a lady on my books who will just suit you. She has four thousand pounds, ready money, and neither father nor mother, and being just six and twenty, she is perfectly her own mistress. You will have only one thing to complain of (here the old lady smiled) that the bride will be too handsome, and you can judge of that directly, for as luck would have it, she is here, which will save you the trouble of coming again."

The good priestess left the room. P. was in a perfect delirium of joy; while he was indulging his raptures, a grave elderly personage in green spectacles, entered, seated himself at the desk, opened the book of marriages to be concluded, wrote a few lines, surveyed the young man from head to foot; and then, in a solemn tone, asked his name, age, profession, and fortune, writing always a few lines in the book between each question and reply. "Sir," said he, when he had finished, "the expenses of our establishment, and the statutes of our administration exact a trifling recompense in advance; but that has nothing in common with the way in which other offices do business. You have a young lady with four thousand pounds, that will be forty francs."

It was precisely all the money P. had, but he did not hesitate a moment. The gentleman pocketed them, vanished,