f ; F e of fashonable folly. With one ihese on, a lady nearly makes a fi -oof herself; the clothes jump h side to side; as she walks, the lile heaves acd tumbles about like ? keel of a small schooner 'in a l' and a sailor would feel inclined Sr'v out, ' Steady the helm, there ; a her fast!' [he short bustle is a little abbrevi jion in length, but utterly unmanage il in a street-car or anywhere else eathe unfortunate wearer desires ait down. If a woman makes up • mind, she will sit down in spite of alebones. She finds on rising that whole affair is entirely bent out of fee, and one or more loosened bones, £at burst from their confinement by |c pressue, are stabbing her in the lack, to her utter misery, and she (Hes a big vow, silently, never to put lon again as long as she lives, fashon lino fashon, so there! speed the Me, oye gods, when a woman can %ss herself comfortably and decent land be respectable in the eyes of Ihon ! —[A women's lettter to the Washington Chronicle. ]

Picture of Marie Antoinette.

prcE upon a time there was a young fncess, beautiful as the day, accord % to her flatterers ; red-headed as the larch moon, so said the envious ; who

the age of fifteen was married to the >ir to the tb rone of a friendly state.

ftis prince was but one year older can she, but of a very different dis josition. He was as dull and heavy as |c was gay. No one had ever heard jim utter a word in public, and his jjlly tastes were for hunting and hasonry. After his marriage he con- Snued to bunt the stag, to help the bsons when they came to work on |c palabe, and to sit at the table pthout opening his mouth except to Greedily devour food. As to the prin §ss, she cared for no other society Kan that of a number of noisy, dirty Itle dogs, that tore and soiled her i esses; her greatest pleasure was to le on a donkey at the risk of being pown, and she liked to have some one int out to her all the odd visages at 3 court —a proceeding that amused r so much that she often burst out lofiin"- in people's faces. Her only itirnate friends were ladies who were ifond of talking scandal as herself, hich is saying not a little. Called by c decrees of Providence to govern a 'eat country, one day, side by side Hth her stupid husband, she despised ler future subjects so much that she leased to respect herself; she neglected ibbut on corsets when about to appear

public, and she never brushed her leeth, although, as we have stated, she las very fond of laughing. Knowing pell that the slightest of her caprices t^ere to be obeyed, she refused to learn anything. Her ignorance was exces |ve. She could scarcely form her let fbrs, and, although she bad a reader, |ne could not endure to listen to him l>r more than half an hour a day, and then only by dint of playing with her logs or with little children who were jbroughtto her expressly. Neither music trior even singing had any charms for ier, because to study them would have Required some application. — [Avenel's %ife of tlie Queen.

Washington's Apperance.

PJSS J"ane Stitabt, in an article on f'the ' St a art Portraits of Washington,' In Scribner's Magazine for July, has Ithis interesting reminiscence: £ once Uieardrny father, in a private conversa tion with Washington Allston, give i his candid opinion of General Wash ington's appearance. He said that his figure was by no means good; that his shoulders were high and narrow, and his hands and feet remarkably large. He had aldermanic propor tions, and this defect was increased Iby the form of the vest of that day. 1 Put, with all these drawbacks, his ap pearance was singularly fine. I have I heard my mother say that the first time I she saw "him he entered the hall door as I she passed from the entry to the parlor, ■ aud that Bhe thought him the most su perb-looking person she had ever seen. ;He was then dressed in black velvet, : with white lace ruffles, etc, exactly as j Stuart's picture represented him.

The lawyers of this country are said to cost six times as much as the ministers; hut there is more law than religion in the colony. . Every man can make himself useful in this world, if only by holding a sunshade over a young lady who is playing croquet. ' Your ignorance is pitiful,' said a charming Ponsonby widow to a young Dedwood fellow who asked her if women wore night-caps,

Joaquin Miller's Fantastic Yarn

The poet was sitting before a cheertul grate-fire—it was Winter—with a table by his side covered with manuscripts, bottles of wine, bottles of Spanish olives, dishes of candies, and a box of Albert biscuits. ' I take the richest wines I can find,' he said, suiting his action to his word by filling a large goblet with a rich red wine s ' and sometimes I eat half a bottle of olives at one sitting. That is the proper food for poets. Homer drapk wine and ate olives. The large, soft ones are the best, and the l@nger they have been in pickle the better. Eat them slowly will crackers; they are fattening.' Taking up a copy of 'The One Fair Woman,' he wrote upon the fly-leaf: 'Yours until the end of the volume.' '1 do not often give away a book,' he said, presenting it to me. But I want you to read this. 1 have been too careless in my writing heretofore. This book I began to write in a prison cell ill Milan, and I finished it in sixty days. Here are pictures of 'The One Fair Woman' and ' The Pink Countess,' taking from the mantel photographs, and placing them in my hands. ' I was in love with the Countess, eloped with her—took the husband and child along—it is always best to take the husband along when you elope with a woman; it saves a vast amount of trouble. An old Italian was also in love with the Countess, and he caused me to be arrested and thrown into prison on the charge of kidnapping. When the officer arrested me I had not a word to say, and wouldn't even givs him my name. I didn't want to make a noise in the newspapers, and have it get all over the world that Joaquin Miller was in jail! The moment I was inside the prison 1 determined to write a book ; so 1 sent for pens, bottles of ink. and paper—reams of it—piles of it —immense heaps ! I wrote constantly, as well as I could by the miserable light of the cell window, only stopping to eat and sleep. On the third day I was taken before the Syndic. I carried my pens, paper and ink into court, and kept up the everlasting wriring,never looking up or answering a word when spoken to. This proceeding rather aston ished the Court, and finally the Syndic addressed me himself—a very unusual thing for a Syndic in an Italian Court to do. He asked why I did not respond when my name was called. I replied that I was in a great hurry, and had no time to spare, as I was obliged to finish imme diately a three-volume book for publication. This statement appeared to astonish the Court. ' Would I promise to leave Italy?' No answer. I was taken back to prison, and on the second day was presented with my release. But I have had my revenge — the old man that sfnt me to jail figures in the book as the prisoner, and in the cud I make nim hang himself to one of the prison window bars.'

A Little Dressmaker.

Mats. Roger was an industrious little needlewomen, wife of an honest day laborer, and very glad she was to have employment six days in the week, at fifty cents a day. A rich and elegant lady of my acquaintance appreciated her talent, and on one occasion had the little needle woman make a ball dress which she wore to one of the Monday evening soirees of the Empress. Her Majesty noticed and admired the pretty toilette, and Mme. X., being the kindest-hearted of women, pushed her little protegee on in the world of fashion and finance, and in a short time so good a reputation and patronage had been acquired that Mme. floger established herself in Eve Louis le Grande, where many of my lady readers remember ordering the most satisfactory dresses they ever wore. There they paid hi<di prices, but then the dresses were so well made, and, bearing Mme. Soger's name, were so much admired! The successful couturiere was still young and grateful, and not being overconfident in herself, she never made a dress for the Empress without first consulting Mme. X., whom she rightly regarded as the soul of her success. Years passed. Mme. X left Paris, M.* Eoger died, his widow marriage a lawyer's clerk who, thanks to her money, bought tha business and became lawyer in his turn, and all went : on so swimmingly that one fine day the once little dressmaker sold out (leaving the name of Eoger to her successor,) and retired on a large fortune. She set up a country-house in which to pass the summer months, a fine residence in Paris, horses, carriage and the rest of it. Mme. X- returued to the French captal, and, walking up the Champs Elysees one day, met her former protegee (whom she always addressed as Mme. Eoger,) said how pleased she was to see her again, and added : I can't stop to talk with you now but come to me on Monday and I shall be glad to hear all the particulars of your successful life.' Mme. Eoger bowed, held out her hand and replied: 'I, too, have my day, madame, and on Fridays I shall be most happy to receive you.'

Said a young doctor to a lady patient: You must take exercise for your health, mv dear.' ' All right,' said she, «I'll jump at the first offer.' They were married about six months afterwards. A New York boy was recently arrested for theft. His father pleaded ' Omlty' for him, but said in extenuation, 'James is a good boy, but he will steal.' . There are two eventful periods in the life of a woman; one, when she wonders who she shall have—the other, when she wonders who will have her.

The Bargain

'May I trouble you to show me that dress-cap with blue trimmings in the window,' said a lady-like person as she entered a fashionable lace-shop.

The proprietor, with a polite bow, handed the lady a chair, and producing the cap alluded to, recommended it in the usual set phrases.

' Pray what is the price ?' inquired Mrs Mowbray with a dissatisfied air, after viewing it in every imaginable position, and scrutinising its materials and work manship with the most patient minuteness.

' The price is seven shillings, madam,' answered the shopkeeper, rubbing his hands.

' Seven shillings!' exclaimed Mrs Mowbray; ' why, I have seen them marked up at a score of places for sis, and at the bazaars they are cheaper still.'

'Excuse me madam,' replied the shop keeper, ' not such a cap as that, I think. Observe the fine quality of the materials, and the neatness of the workmanship. It is a first-rate article.'

' Oh yes, I see,' rejoined Mrs Mowbray; ' but the caps to which I allude are quite equal to it in every respect. The fact is, Ido not particularly want it; but if six shillings will do, I will take it.'

The shopkeeper hesitated. ' I suppose you must have it then, madam,' said he with a saddened countenance, ' but really I get no profit by it at that price.' 'Oh,' said Mrs Mowbray with a banter ing air, ' you shopkeepers never get any profit, if wo are to believe you. You mean to say you do not pocket quite, fifty per cent, by it.' The shopkaeper, with a faint effort to smile, shook his head as he neatly folded and wrapped up the delicate article, and Mrs Mowbray having counted out the six shillings, he politely thanked her, opened the shop-door, and bade her good-day. ' There, Jane,' said Mrs Mowbray as she entered the parlour on her arrival at home,'' what do you think of my purchase?' holding up her new acquisition. 'Is it not a love of a c^p ? Guess what I gave for it,'

Jane examined it minutely, and guessed the price to be seven or eight shillings, the materials and work being, as she remarked, so very good. ' Only six shillings,' said Mrs Mowbray triumphantly; ' the shopkeeper asked seven, but I succeeded in getting it for six ; and (putting it on, and walking up to the looking-glass) I assure you I am not a little pleased with my bargain.' ' Well,' said Jane, 'itis a wonder they can afford to sell such a cap for the money ; the materials alone, I should think, would cost as much as that.'

' It is a wonder,' replied Mrs Mowbray indifferently, as she turned herself round before the looking-glass, and inquired of her sister how it suited'her face, and whether the colour of the ribbon were adapted to her complexion. A loud double knock at this moment was heard at the door, and Mrs Mowbray, taking off the cap in the greatest trepidation, remarked that she would not tor the world that her husband should know of her purchase, as her last month's millinery bill had been very heavy, and Edward would be displeased at what ho would term her extravagance. The cap was safely deposited before Edward had entered the room; who, throwing himself on the sofa, declared he was fatigued, and should be glad of a cup of tea.

' You arc late, my dear, this evening, are you not?' inquired Mrs Mowbray. 'lam later than usual,' answered Mr Mowbray ; ' I have been attending a committee-meeting of our benevolent society, which detained me some time.' ' Your benevolent society is always detaining you I think,' said Mrs Mowbray somewhat reproachfully ; ' benevolent societies are very good things no doubt, but I think you have quite sufficient to do, both with your time and your money, without attending to any such things. What can we do for the poor ? It is very well for those who have nothing to do, and plenty of money to spare ; but I cannot see how persons with so limited an income as ours have any business with benevolent societies.'

' Well, my dear,' replied Edward, ' I have thought on the subject sufficiently to entitle me to a decided opinion ; audi am sure if you had been with us to-day, and had heard the instances of the good we have already effected, you would not hold so lightly the exertions of even such humble individuals as we. I hope lam neither neglecting my business nor my home in these efforts, and I am confident you will rejoice with me when I tell you . that we have good reason to hope that we ' are making some impression, however little, upon the vice and ignorance which have so long made those lanes and alleys at the back of our house a nuisance to the neighbourhood.' 'Of course, my dear,' said Mrs Mow bray, ' I wish always to sympathise with you in any of your efforts to do good,' *. We have some funds in hand,' remark ed Mr Mowbray, ' and I have promised our committee to visit the poor families myself to-morrow, to ascertain their individual circumstances, and the best means of serving them. Let me add, my dear,' said he coaxingly, ' that I hope you will accompany me, and share with me the pleasure of inquiring into their necessities, and endeavouring to alleviate their distress.' Mrs Mowbray would willingly have conceded to her husbuand the monopoly of this pleasure ; but, after making a host

of objections and cv. .es, which were successfully combated by him, was at last brought to acquiesce in his wish, and promised to be in readiness on the follow ing afternoon to accompany him on what she nevertheless deemed a Quixotic expedition. The next day Mrs Mowbray was reluctantly ready on her husband's return from business, and, roughly attired for the occasion, they started on their exploratory tour. Leaving the main thoroughfare, with its genteel dwelling-houses and glittering shops, they turned down a little by-street, at the end of which they found themselves in the midst of a huge nest, as it were, of courts and alleys, which presented a striking contrast with the gaudy street they had just left. Mrs Mowbray was so shocked at the sight of such wretchedness that she hesitated to proceed, till reassured by her husband, who well knew the locality, and had often visited the poor families there before.

The appearance of the spot was indeed deplorable, and not a little startling to one whose walks had been confined to the public throughfarcs. It was a lovely afternoon, yet even the sun's piercing beams could scarcely penetrate some of these choerless gloomy nooks. Here were clustery of pestiferous hovels, some with out door;, crowded with human beings, though unfit even for the habitation of the most valueless animal. In many, the old window-panes were almost all broken, while in others they were so dirty, and patched with paper or stuffed with rags, that they but very partially admitted the light of day. Itagged and vicious boys were gambling in groups, and barefooted children were playing about in the slimy mud, some squalid and puny in consequence of bad air and insufficient food, and others whose chubby features diaplayed, in spite of dirt and privation, a robustness of health that would have done credit to the nursery of a nobleman. Here were gaunt men, with dull meaningless, countenances, sitting on their comfortless thresholds, and bony haggard women screeching for their strayed children, while the scarcely con cealed forms of some of the younger females might have served as models for the painter or sculptor. Yet even here were traces of human sympathies of the purest kind. Girls were nursing their baby sisters with the most patient devoted ness. The playful innocent-faced kitten, a universal favourite, frolicked about in the dirty window-sill ; the social dog seemed quite at home with the children, as they shared with him their pittance of bread ; and from many a superannuated saucepan and spoutless toa-pot, at the upper win dows; grew iho fragrant ber^amot and the blushing geranium with strange luxuriance-

The appearance in such a neighbourhood of two well dressed persons soon caused an unusual excitement, especially as Mr Mowbray was known among the poor inhabitants ; and whenever he appeared there, it might be safely calculated there was something to be given away. Children after a hasty glance at the intruders, left their playfellows and ran to their homes ; heads were thrust out at the windows; some shuffled to their own rooms, that they might be ready if called on ; others obtruded themselves in the way with an obsequious curtsey ; some came to their doors with their little ones peeping from behind their aprons ; and all around were on the tiptoe of expectation. As they climbed the creaking stairs, and explored the naked garrets of the various housps, it was singular to mark the dissimilarity in character and circumstances of the various inmates— alike only in their poverty. Even in form and feature the contrast was strik ing. In the countenances of some might be unmistakeably read the sensual and the brutish; while in the lineaments of others might be traced, notwithstanding dirt and rags, the predominance of the gentle, and even the refined. Here wan the round-cheeked boor, who fattened amid the filth that seemed natural to him, and here the angular-featured man of thought and of observation, whom more favourable circumstances might have placed in a far different sphere. The student of human character could not have desired a finer field for the prosecu tion of his studies than such a one as this ; and the more so, as character was here so forcibly developed for good or evil, unweakened by any of the influences which affect civilised life. Mrs Mowbray as she joined her husband in kind conver sation with the various families they visited, soon began to feel a deep interest in them, soothingly advised with them and relieved, some of their more pressing wants.

They had compleatcd their intended round of visits, and were just leaving* the court to return home ward, when a young woman, carrying in her hand a millinor's basket, crossed before them. She was meanly clad, and her appearance bespoke deep poverty, yet there wss an air of respectability about her that could not be mistaken. She evidently shrunk from observation ; but as she looked up with a surprised air at tbe unusual sight of two respectably-dressed persons in such a \ place, her sad countenance, beaming with intelligence, so forcibly impressed Mr Mowbray, that he stopped her, and asking her where she lived, expaessed a wish to pay her a visit. The young waman ° urtscyed, an led the way to a house superior to most of those they had just left, but scarcely less wretched and ruinous. It was a large building, and had perhaps once bee^

tenanted by the wealthy : but it had long since fallen into decay, and its lofty capacious rooms had been divided into a number of small ones, each of which now contained a family, large or small as the case might be. Mr and Mrs Mowbray followed the young woman up the wide staircase to the top of the house, and then turning into a large gallery, their guide stopped at length at a door, and lifting the latch, with a curtsey and an apology for the untidiness of the humble room, ushered them into her apartment, and dusting the chair (there was but one) invited Mrs Mowbary to take a seat.

The room was spacious, and appeared the larger in consequence of being so scantily furnished. Some half-dozen old books lay in the window, a few articles of crockery-ware were arranged on a box in the corner of the room, and those, with a little table, a chair, and a box which seemed to serve occasionally as a seat, comprised nearly all the articles visible in the room. . Everything, however, was clean and tidy, and there was an air of decency and respectability about the room which pleasingly contrasted with those they had just loft

'Do you live here alone, pray ?' inquired Mr. Mowbray.

'No, sir.' replied the young woman feebly, ' my aged mother lives with me ; but (pointing to a bed at the further end of the room, and which the gathering sha dows of evening had prevented them from before observing) she is ill, and has been confined to her bed for the last month.'

' Have you no father ?' inquired Mr Mowbray. The young woman was silent for a moment as her tongue struggled to articulate an answer, while a tear trickled down her cheek.

'My father is dead, sir,' she replied : 'he died about six months ago after a short illness, and we were in consequence compelled to leave our former nice home, and take this room.'

: And pray how do you support yourself and your mother ?' asked Mr Mowbray, glancing at the table, which was strewed with pieces of lace, ribbon, &c. ' I make caps and collars, sir,' said the young female, when I can got work to do ; but it is very precarious, and so badly paid for, that I have been obliged to pawn nearly all our furniture to keep out of debt lamunwilling that my poor mother should be chargeable to the parish ; but my hardest exertions are insufficient to supply us even with break' ' Pray, whom do you work for ?' inquired Mrs Mowbray, looking curiously at an unfinished cap which lay on the table. _ ' I work principally, madam,' replied the young woman, ' for the large lace-shop in the street close by. That cap, madam, will only bring me 5s when it is finished, anil I have already spent nearily a day in making it, ana the materials cost me 4s. Os. Even this poor profit is to be reduced, for my employer tokl mc last night he could not afford to give me so much for them, as ladies refused to give him his

price. ' Ladies, indeed !' exclaimed Mr. Mow bray indignantly. ' They little think, when they are so mercilessly hunting for bargains, how sadly they are diminishing the wages of the poor.' Mrs. Mowbray turned her head aside and blushed deeply, for she recognised in the cap before her the counterpart of the ono she had bought the preceding day, and in the employer of this poor young woman the laceman of whom she had bought it.

Mr. Mowbray made some further inquiries, and leaving the poor cap maker a trifle, promised to send a doctor to visit her mother, and to call on her again; and Mrs Mowbray, before leaving, gave her an order, with an assurance that she would endeavour to interest her friends on her behalf.

Mrs. Mowbray, though ashamed and self convicted, returned home pleased with her novel tour, and henceforward was the frequent companion of her husband on such occasions. Bargain-hunting had been in her case the result rather of thoughtless ness than of an unfeeling disposition: and from this time she was more liberal in her purchases, and never felt disposed to depreciate the value of an article without thinking of the poor cap-maker. She came to the wise conclusion, that an unnecessary or bad article can never be cheap, and that a good article is always worth a fair price. A bargain was ever afterwards associated in her mind with depreciated wages and the misery of the poor; and the charm which it had once possessed in her eyes was entirely dspelled by the recollection of the sorrow and oppression which were so often inorlved in its production.

'Well, Mr. Tree, if you're about to LEA.YE, I shall detain your TBTJNK!' ex-, claimed an incensed landlady to her lodger who was slightly in arrears.

We are curious to know how many feet in female arithmetic go to a mile, because we never met with a lady yet whose boots were not, to say the very least, a mile too big for her.

' What does a man think of when he thinks of nothing ?' said a young lady to a gentlemen with whom she had broken an engagement. "He thinks, miss, of a woman's promise.'

Mrs. Partington says she did not marry her second husband because she loved the male sex, but just because he was the size of her first protector, and would wear his old clothes out.

Evening Star Supplement, September O, IP^6.