are decidedly pretty. Though not of a close shape, they are not now
suspended at the back of the hair, as they frequently were a little
while ago. The purple is still visible, but that is all. Fancy straws
are very much worn trimmed with plaid or flowered ribbons. Groups
of wheat ears, poppies, and grass are placed at each side of the
bonnet, when the ribbon is of a kind with which such decorations will
harmonize. For the interior a great deal of blond is worn, and it
would appear quite _de rigueur_ that the two sides should by no means
correspond. If a flower is placed in the blond on one side, a knot
of velvet ribbon will be seen on the other; and one will be placed
on the temple, while the other is low down on the cheek. Roses and
black velvet are the most common; and the prettiest trimmings for the
interior of a straw bonnet. I saw one which had a remarkably elegant
effect; and as I think it would be generally becoming, I give you the
description: The chapeau of paille-de-riz, spotted with black, had
the brim edged with black velvet, cut bias, and covering about an
inch of its depth outside and in. In the interior a very narrow black
lace edged it. The bonnet, of that deep pink which nearly approaches
rose, was edged in the same way, the lace falling from the velvet on
the silk. A broad ribbon of the same hue simply crossed the crown and
formed the strings. It had narrow black velvet ribbon run all round
it. The interior had a double quilling of white blond all round the
face; a single rose, with its foliage, was placed on one side, and on
the other a quilling of black lace, and one of pink ribbon filled up
the corresponding space. I have seen some pretty dress bonnets, of
alternate ruches of ribbon and black lace, with a perfect wreath of
rose-buds round the outside of the brim. In one bonnet, of cinnamon
ribbon and black lace, the wreath could not certainly have been
composed of less than forty buds, besides foliage.
By the way, I do not know if I mentioned to you the new style of
habit-shirt and sleeve which are so much worn in morning toilette. In
case I have not, I send you a specimen. The collars have a hem about
half an inch wide, stitched all round. Above this are eight, ten, or
even twelve minute tucks, run with exquisite neatness. The front of the
habit-shirt corresponds, being made one wide tuck and the same number
of narrow ones as are in the collar, alternately run from the throat
to the waist. A piece of muslin goes down the front, with a broad hem
at each edge, a few narrow ones close to them, and a row of ornamental
buttons down the front. The sleeves, which are _à la duchesse_, have
the band composed of small tucks, and a frill nearly four inches wide,
but slightly sloped towards the join, made to correspond with the
collar and habit-shirt.
[Illustration: PARISIAN HABIT-SHIRT.]
In articles of fancy there is little to remark, this being emphatically
the dull season. Bags, however, are almost universally used for
carrying the handkerchief, and purses for holding the money. I must say
I am glad of this; those clumsy, ugly, _porte-monnaies_, with their
clasps that never would fasten, were always my aversion. You will say,
why did I use them? _Que voulez vous?_ At Paris one must follow the
fashion, unless one would wish to be remarked. The law of _opinion_,
is, to the full, as binding as the law of the land. And, by the by,
what a curious phenomenon is a truly Parisian rage, or passion, or
enthusiasm; or whatever else you like to designate a general admiration
and approbation of novelty.
According to the grand, but painfully true poem of Charles Mackay
"The man is thought a knave or fool,
Or bigot, plotting crime,
Who, for the advancement of his kind,
Is wiser than his time."
And certain it is that really great men have too often lived and died
without seeing their genius appreciated; and in smaller matters it
requires enormous interest, or some fortuitous circumstances, or an
enormous amount of puffing, to induce the public to recognize merit. It
is very different here; real excellence, taste, or skill, is certain
of success, no matter in what line it may be exercised. The invention
of an elegant headdress, or a novelty in fancy-work, of no matter
what (always provided it be really good), may reckon confidently on
universal encouragement. I have lately seen a curious illustration of
this fact. The owner of a pastry store invented a _cake_, dedicated it
to the Princess Mathilde, and he is making a rapid fortune. The Gâteau
Mathilde took at once. How many years would it have required elsewhere
to give such a thing the same celebrity?
This energy of admiration, which insures success to the deserving in
every line, which gives distinction to those who seek that recompense
for their talents, and fortune to those who labor for it, is one of
those points which, I confess, I sincerely admire in the Parisian
character. Going into a fashionable shop at an hour when all the world
is, or is supposed to be, at dinner, I found only one of the young lady
assistants, and she was busily employed embroidering a handkerchief.
On my taking it up and admiring it, she observed: "Oh, that is very
trifling, it is only for myself." I remarked, that it was early to have
finished business. "Oh, we have not done for the day; but Madame always
allows us half an hour for recreation after dinner, so I was amusing
myself with this work." I have noticed, too, in this as in many other
shops in Paris, that chairs or stools are placed on _both_ sides of the
counter, and that, when the customer is seated, the _demoiselle_ takes
a seat also, before beginning to display her goods. This is one of the
French fashions that I should greatly like to see followed elsewhere.
Yours, very truly, V.
TO MORNING.
BY BLANCHE BENNAIRDE.
Thou beauteous morning, bringing us the Day,
Thou harbinger of good, thou child of joy,
Thou hope of the forlorn, for which they pray,
Thou consolation nothing can destroy!
Comfort thou givest to the heart in grief,
And blessed promise, pointing to the goal;
Thy voice is music, bringing sweet relief
To Night's pale mourners--to the suffering soul;
The lovely air is fragrant with thy breath;
Glad music greets our ear on every side,
For plants and trees awake from sleep like death,
And every hill, and vale, and forest wide,
Join now in sweet, harmonious, heavenly songs,
Praising His name, to whom all praise belongs.
LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRY-COOK'S
BEING THE CLANDESTINE CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN KITTY CLOVER AT SCHOOL,
AND HER "DEAR, DEAR FRIEND" IN TOWN.
EDITED BY HORACE MATHEW.
[We intend giving a selection from these "spicy" Letters, chiefly for
the purpose of showing what the boarding-school system for girls is in
England, and thus contrasting the course of female education in that
country with our own modes of instruction. The Letters are doubtless
somewhat exaggerated; but the caricature shows what the reality must
be. Some of the regulations and modes of teaching are worthy of note.
We should like to see the "drill and march" teaching introduced into
our young ladies' schools. This part of the English Girls' School
training is never neglected. They are taught to walk as sedulously as
to dance.]
THE FIRST LETTER LEFT.
(_Dated February 10th._)
SHOWING HOW KITTY WAS TAKEN TO SCHOOL BY HER "WICKED MAMMA."
Oh! my darling Eleanor, it is all over!--and yet I live; but I have
strong hopes of dying before to-morrow morning. I feel that I can
never exist within these hateful walls, to be a wretched slave to Mrs.
Rodwell's "maternal solicitude and intellectual culture." What do I
want with intellectual culture indeed? But I'm determined I won't learn
a bit--not a tinny-tiny bit!
I must tell you, dearest, that, before leaving home, I cried
continually for at least three weeks; but my tears made not the
slightest impression on mamma's hard heart, which, I am sure, must
be stone. More than this, I starved myself during the last three
days--did not take one luncheon--even refused pudding; and at Mrs. St.
Vitus's ball would not dance, nor touch a thing at supper. But all in
vain! No one seemed to care a pin about it; and ma only appeared to
take pleasure in my sufferings. The boys teased, and made cruel jokes
upon my misery; and that detestable Martha helped to get me ready as
cheerfully as if I--no, _she_--was going to be married. The last day
I went into hysterics; and looked so ill--with my red eyes and pale
cheeks--that ma, to my great joy, got frightened, and sent for Dr.
Leech. But that cross old monster only dangled his bunch of big seals,
and said that I should be better at Turnham-green--a little change of
air would do me good! Much he knows about medicine! for, at the very
moment he was talking, I felt as if I must have fainted.
So in a cold drizzling rain--will you believe it, Nelly?--I was dragged
into the carriage (for pa had walked down to the office on foot,
carrying his own blue bag, purposely that ma might have the carriage),
and propped up on each side with bags of oranges, cakes, and goodies,
to cheat me into the stupid notion, I really imagine, that I was going
to have a treat, in the same way that nurse always gives Julius his
powders, with lots of sugar on the top! Oh! my sweetest Eleanor, words
cannot express the wretchedness of your poor friend during that long
ride! And yet Oates never did drive so quickly; he seemed to be doing
it on purpose--whipping the poor horse through Hyde-Park as furiously
as if we were trying to catch a mail-train, instead of going at that
delicious crawling pace which we have always been accustomed to by the
side of the Serpentine. Opposite Lord Holland's park the horse fell.
Oh, how my heart beat, to be sure! I thought he was killed at least,
and that we should be obliged to return home; but no such thing. He
picked himself up as quietly as you would a pin, and the carriage went
on even faster than before.
But after all, Eleanor, what pained me most was mamma's and Martha's
cold-hearted conversation whilst I was in a corner suffering so much!
They chatted as cheerfully upon worldly nonsense as if we were going
to a pantomime. I shall never forget their cutting cruelty at such a
moment as that; and to make matters worse, what with crying and the
rain, I felt as wet through as if I had been travelling along the
submarine telegraph, besides _my tears spoiling my pretty puce-colored
bonnet strings, which were quite new that day_.
At last we stopped before a large, cold-looking house, with walls
pulled tight round it, like the curtains of the four-poster when pa's
ill in bed. It was all windows, with bars here and there, and the
plaster looked damp, and altogether it was much more like a convent
than a college; for I must tell you our school isn't called a "school"
(for it seems there are no schools for young ladies now-a-days), nor
a "seminary," nor an "academy," but it's a "college." I thought I
should have fainted away, only I had the cakes and oranges in my arms,
and was afraid of dropping them down the area, when Mrs. Rodwell took
me upon her "maternal" knee, and began stroking me down and calling
me her "dear young friend," with whom she said "she should soon be
on excellent terms," (only I am sure we never shall, excepting the
"excellent terms" pa pays her), and she went on playing with me, Nelly,
just as I have seen the great boa-constrictor, at the Zoological
Gardens, cuddle and play with the poor dear little rabbit, before he
devours it.
And now, dearest, mind you never mention what I am going to tell you;
but all the sentiment and fine talking and writing about a mother's
love is nonsense! utter nonsense! all a delightful sham!--for all
the world, Nelly, like those delicious sweet _méringues_ at the
pastry-cook's, which look like a feast, and only melt into a mouthful!
I am sure of it, Nelly, dear, or else how could they bear to make us
so miserable? looking quite happy whilst our poor hearts are breaking?
sending us from our natural homes, where we are so comfortable, to such
miserable places as this "Princesses' College?" and especially, too,
when governesses now-a-days are so plentiful, and far cheaper, I am
told, than maids of all work! Why, it was only last Friday morning I
showed ma the most beautiful advertisement there was in the "Morning
Post," all about a governess offering to "teach English, French,
German, Italian, Latin, the use of globes, dancing, _and crochet-work
too_, and drawing, painting, music, singing, together with the art of
making wax-flowers actually, and all for 21_l._ a year!" But ma only
patted me, and said she "should be ashamed to encourage such a terrible
state of things," or some such stupid stuff that put me in a passion
to listen to. I am sure I shall never believe ma loves me again, after
throwing me from her dear fat arms into the long thin claws of that
awful Mrs. Rodwell! They opened and shut, and closed round me, Nell,
exactly like a lobster's!
Before I could escape, ma and Martha were gone, and I was left
alone--all alone--in this large dungeon of a place, with every
door fast. Well, Nelly, you have been to school--at least I
suppose you have--so you can imagine how I was allowed to remain
in the schoolmistress's--no, our schoolmistress is called a "Lady
Principal"--in the Lady Principal's _boudoir_ to compose myself; how
I was treated to weak tea and thin bread and butter with Mrs. R., and
asked all the time all manner of questions that made my cheeks burn
with rage, about home, and about mamma and papa, until eight o'clock
came, and with it the permission to retire, as "bed would do my head
good." I was too glad to get released, if it was merely to indulge my
grief, and cry myself to sleep under the bedclothes!
But, law! if it was so uncomfortable in the _boudoir_ (and such a
_boudoir_, Nell!--a dark closet with a handful of cinders for fire,
and full of gimcracks, little pincushions, lavender baskets, painted
card-racks, and fire-screens, until it seemed furnished from a fancy
fair)--but if that was uncomfortable, I say, it was positively wretched
in the bedroom, with its six iron cramp-beds, three washing-basins, and
_one looking-glass_! Yes, Nelly, only one looking-glass amongst six
young ladies! I never heard of such a thing. And then the place was so,
so very cold, that I am sure I shall have a red nose and chilblains for
the remainder of my life; _but I hope, my dear, fond Nelly, you will
love me all the same!_
Well, I cried myself to sleep, and it was a great comfort, I can assure
you; and it seemed still in the middle of the night, when a loud
ringing in my ears frightened me out of my sleep, and made me nearly
fall out of bed. And, after that came a sharp, barking voice, calling
out--"Now, young ladies! are you going to breakfast in bed?" and
causing a general stretching, scuffling, and jumping up.
The cold glimmering dawn lighted only portions of the room, but I
could see five other girls creeping about, half asleep, quarreling for
basins, engaging turns at the _one_ looking-glass, joking, grumbling,
yawning, and laughing; whilst I, poor I, sat, hope-forlorn, shivering,
half with cold, and half with fear, on the edge of the bed. There,
a tall young lady, in a flannel dressing-gown, discovered me, and
exclaimed: "Why, here's the New Girl! I say, my young lady, you had
better make haste; the second bell will soon ring, and Miss Snapp will
give you something to cry for if you're not ready."
Then they all came and stared at me (the rude things); and as I could
not help crying, one of them called out, "Oh! Oh! how affecting! Oh!
Oh! _Oh!_ OH!" ending at last in a loud bellow, in which I joined
in painful earnest; and then they left me, and went on whispering,
washing, combing, and lacing each other, until "Ding, ding, ding," went
the second bell, and at the first sound they all scampered away, some
with their dresses still unfastened, calling after others to come and
hook them for them.
I never should have got finished myself, unless a mild, quiet-looking
woman had ventured to my assistance, and led me down stairs into the
school-room, where I nearly dropped upon _feeling_ the stare of some
fifty girls fall upon me all in a lump, just like the water from a
shower-bath after you have pulled the string. Oh, darling Nelly! what
would I have given for one familiar face that I knew, or to have had
your loving self by my side, so that I might have thrown my arms around
your dear neck, and have a _good cry_; for I am sure that a good cry
does one, frequently, much more good than a good laugh!
The buzzing, which had suddenly ceased on my appearance, began again
with double vehemence, making nearly as much noise as the water, when
it's running into the cistern at home. Amidst the hurried whispers,
I could detect, "What a milksop!" "Mammy's darling!" "She'll soon be
broken in!" &c.; when the same dog-like voice was heard to bark again,
calling out above the uproar, "To your seats, young ladies! Silence!
Five forfeits for the first who speaks!"
In the lull which followed, I was seated by the side of my quiet
conductress, and permitted to write this letter to my dear, darling
Eleanor, just to fill up my time before breakfast, after which I am to
be examined and classed according to what I know.
Oh, Nelly, I do so dread this day, and am so extremely wretched,
thinking, all the time, what they are doing at home, and how Martha is
rejoicing that she has got her sister away from home. But I must leave
off, dearest; and I will promise you several more letters (that is, of
course, if I survive this day), in which I will tell you of everything
that occurs in this filthy school---I mean college. That will be the
only ray of pleasure, Nelly, which will shoot in this dark dungeon
through the captive heart of your devoted, but wretchedly unhappy
KITTY CLOVER.
P. S.--Excuse haste and my dreadful scrawl.
P. S.--You will see I have forwarded this to the pastry-cook's in
Tottenham-court-road. Do not eat too many pink tarts, dear, when you
call for it.
P. S.--We hear a great deal, Nelly, about the trials and troubles of
the world, and of all we have to go through, and about school being the
happiest time of our lives; but they seem to do all they can to make it
miserable, and I don't believe any hardship on this world is worse than
going to school, and having to face fifty girls, all making fun of the
New Pupil.
CELESTIAL PHENOMENA.--JANUARY.
BY D. W. BELISLE.
There is no study that engages so little general attention as that of
the planetary world. Yet it is the oldest of all sciences, dating from
the hour when, in obedience to the command of Jehovah, "Let there be
light," lo! the "God of day" arose with all its brilliancy in the East,
while the queen of night, with her myriads of starry attendants, sank
softly below the horizon in the West, and all, in their joy at the new
creation, sang together in their spheres.
The Chaldeans were the first to divide the starry hosts into
constellations, and from them it was introduced into Egypt by Abraham,
who gave lectures on astronomy to the Egyptians. From Egypt the Greeks
received their knowledge of the hitherto to them unknown science.
When Babylon fell into the hands of Alexander, Calisthenes found
astronomical observations among the records, dating 1903 years before
that period, which carries us back to the time of the dispersion of
mankind by the confusion of tongues. Fifteen hundred years after this,
the Babylonians sent to Hezekiah to inquire about the shadows going
back on the dial of Ahaz. From that period up to the present time it
is not difficult to trace the progress this science has made, although
sometimes obscured by fanaticism and superstition, which imprisoned the
dauntless Galileo for asserting a belief in the unerring laws that bind
the whole system of worlds in their spheres.
My object in these articles is not to show why a science that at once
elevates and refines the soul, by bringing it to dwell upon the works
of _Him_ whence every holy, noble impulse springs that stirs the heart,
is so much neglected, except by our professors and astronomers, but
to call attention to, and take a cursory view of the most interesting
constellations, commencing with _Ursa Minor_, or the Little Bear. This
constellation crosses the meridian in November, and does not properly
belong to this month, and is only adverted to here on account of the
importance attached to its only star of any magnitude, the Alruccaba
of the Jews, the Cynosura of the Romans, and our _North Star_. By this
the mariner ploughs his track fearlessly from continent to continent
through the trackless ocean, launches into unknown seas, and, with
his eye on the star that never fails him, steers his bark among the
icebergs which in the North never yield to the sun, among the frowning
peaks of which lurk the messengers of destruction. By this the surveyor
determines the boundaries of kingdoms, and by this the Arab and Bedouin
traverse their seas of burning sand.
"The Lesser Bear
Leads from the pole the lucid band: the stars
Which from this constellation faintly shine,
_Twice twelve in number_, only _one_ beams forth
Conspicuous in high splendor, named by Greece
The Cynosure; by us the Polar Star."
The seven principal stars in this constellation form a reversed dipper,
Cynosura being the first of the three that constitute the handle.
Of the four that constitute the bowl, one of them is so small as to
obscure the uniformity; still, it may be readily traced in a clear
night with the naked eye.
The mythological history of this constellation is that Juno, the
imperious queen of heaven, in a rage transformed Arcas, the son of the
Nymph Calisto, into a _bear_; and, afterwards repenting, by the favor
of Jupiter, translated him to the skies, that he might not be destroyed
by the huntsman.
"Placed at the helm he sat, and marked the skies,
Nor closed in sleep his ever watchful eyes."
The Chinese claim that the Emperor Hong-ti, a grandson of Noah, first
discovered and applied to navigation the _Polar Star_. It is certain it
was used for this purpose at a very early day. Lacan, a Latin poet, who
wrote about the time of the birth of our Saviour, thus adverts to the
practice of steering vessels by this star:--
"Unstable Tyre, now knit to firmer ground,
With Sidon for her purple shells renowned,
Safe in the _Cynosure_, their glittering guide,
With well-directed navies stem the tide."
This was over eighteen centuries ago, and still Cynosura is the
"glittering guide" of the mariner, and will be for ages yet to come.
It guided nations who lived so long ago that oblivion has swept their
name and age from existence, as it does us at the present time, and
will guide other nations so far down the stream of time that the word
American will be without a meaning, if heard.
Sixty degrees south-west of the Polar Star may be seen _Taurus_, the
first constellation on the meridian the present month. For the space of
two thousand years, Taurus was the prince, the leader of the celestial
hosts. Anterior to the time of Abraham, or more than four thousand
years ago, the vernal equinox took place, and the year opened when
the sun was in Taurus. Aries, or the Ram, succeeded next, and now the
Fishes lead the brilliant throng, and the once leader is the second
sign and third constellation in the zodiac. There are one hundred and
forty-one visible stars comprised in this constellation, among which
are two beautiful clusters, known as the Pleiades and Hyades. Six only
of the Pleiades are visible to the naked eye; yet Dr. Hook, with a
twelve feet telescope, saw seventy-eight stars, and Rheita, with one
of greater power, counted two hundred in this small cluster, while
still beyond is seen a faint hazy light, which probably would resolve
into stars could an instrument be made powerful enough to overcome the
distance that intervenes. All that has been, or ever can be revealed by
the aid of the most powerful telescope, is as nothing in comparison to
what
Beyond its reach still rolls,
In orbits like our own--
Worlds, on whose surface nature folds
Her dewy wings.
There is no finite mind which can trace the depth and breadth of
immensity--
There is no eye but His alone
Can thread this deep abyss,
can tell how many worlds have gone
Before the dawn of this;
Or number all the worlds that yet
Our Maker in the void may set.
The Pleiades are so called from the Greek word _pleein_, to sail, and
were in ancient times used by the mariners of that nation to guide them
in their course. Virgil, who flourished twelve hundred years before the
discovery of the magnetic needle, thus alludes to it--