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wearer. The crown was decorated || twisted many times round the crown with a large plume of feathers. of the hat.

During the reigns of Henry II. Francis II.Charles IX. and Henry III. the chapeau was displaced by toques of different forms: this mode is said to have been borrowed from the Italians.

Henry IV. wore a high-crowned hat with a small flat brim. This fashion was then in use among the Spaniards.

A great change took place in the form of the hat under Louis XIII.; the crown was extremely low, and the brim very large: it was worn on one side.

This fashion was too simple to suit the pompous taste of Louis XIV.: he elevated the crown, and had the brim turned up before and behind. Shortly afterwards he introduced the fashion of the cocked hat, with the button and loop on the left side, so long prevalent all over Europe, and still used in full dress.

Who could have expected to find on the hats of the petits-maitres of those days, an ornament named after the most popular preacher of his time? But so it was: the zeal and eloquence of the celebrated Bourdaloue made him the fashion; nothing else was talked of or thought of: nevertheless it was very difficult to find any thing about the man of God which could be dragged into the service of la mode. However, the Parisians were determined to call some part of their dress after him; at last they gave his name to a narrow black band which encircled the crown of the hat, and from that time nobody was seen without a Bourdaloue. But this ornament soon lost its original simplicity; it was worn in gold, and

During the reign of Louis XIV. the hat was always carried under the arm: it was never placed upon the head, because it would have disarranged the enormous wig, full curled and powdered, which was an indispensable appendage to the fine gentleman of that day.

After the death of Louis XIV. wigs à la régence began to be fashionable. The fore-top of this wig was flat, and consequently a hat might be put on without inconveniAt that period the brims of hats began to be edged with a narrow gold or silver binding.

ence.

Until the middle of Louis XV.'s reign, the brim of the hat was worn turned up and very narrow. The military got tired of this fashion; they soon passed to the other extreme by enlarging the brim enormously.

These large hats were not adopted by magistrates nor physicians, nor in short by any of those professions to whose costume a well curled and powdered wig had been considered indispensable. The danger to which these gentlemen exposed themselves in going about in the coldest weather without hats, made the jokers of those times say, that they valued their lives less than their wigs.

In 1760, the shape of the fashionable hat was borrowed from the chapeau called ramponneau, worn by the alehouse-keepers of Paris: this hat had the front corner larger than either of the others.

Some years afterwards the hat took an oblong form: this was called the chapeau à la Suisse.

The French had a kind of mania

for every thing that was American during the war between that country and Great Britain, and this mania introduced into France in 1778 the round hat, called chapeau à la Bos

tonnienne.

The jockey hats were also round, but with large brims. In 1783, the crown of the hat was formed quite round, and it took the name of chapeau au ballon, from the then novel invention of the balloon.

In 1786, a hat with three short corners came into favour, and kept

its place for eight years. In 1790, the crown of the hat became narrower at the bottom than the top. In 1794, it resumed its old form, which in 1795 it lost, to take that of the reverse of a broken cone.

From that time, the form of the French hat has changed as often as that of the French bonnet, and the alterations have consequently been too numerous to come within the compass of my present sketch.

T. T.

THE OLD BACHELOR'S CLOSET-WINDOW. THERE is after all something in that sort of malady half real, half imaginary, which the French call ennui: till now I regarded it as the offspring of an enervated body and an ill-directed mind. I cannot admit this to be my own case; and yet I feel those tormenting imps, vulgarly yclept blue devils, amply revenging on me, by the horrors they inflict at this moment, the doubts I have so often expressed of their existence. How shall I get rid of them? Suppose I try to write-but what? I am too little of a savant to treat of scientific matters. Light sketches then? It will not do, I have no turn for badinage. Moral essays? Worse and worse, nobody would read them. My own history? It is a blank. What then can I write? I have it: my closet-window will furnish me with something. When we write or speak on a subject that we like, we are always eloquent: let me see then whether I shall not be able to make something of my closet-window.

but disappointment did not extinguish hope, and I consoled myself for each failure, with the thought that my next essay would be more successful. At last the moment came when the phantom that I had so long pursued vanished for ever, and I derived from the wreck of all my hopes only the knowledge, that he who trusts to his || fellow-creatures for happiness leans upon a broken reed. The lesson was bitter but salutary, though it was long ere I could profit by it. The time at length came when I could bring myself to look at the resources my Creator had given me, and to bless him in humble thankfulness for the means of finding, if not happiness, at least content.

Years have now passed since I placed my comforts within a narrow bound: my books, my walks, the caresses of my faithful dog, and the attachment of my old servant, these are helps to soften the tedium of life; but perhaps a still greater is my closet-window. It is there that I find

For the first forty years of my life the grand stimulus of existence; it is I looked for happiness to my fellow-through it that I am enabled to excreatures; I was often disappointed,ercise the only power we ought to

covet in this world, that of doing good. My reader, whoever he may chance to be, will smile when he is told, that the only prospect my closet-window affords, is a garret inhabited by the meanest class of people, and that for the last fifteen years of my life I have devoted some portion of every day to watch their motions. But before he condemns what he will call my folly, let him look at his own pursuits: he might perhaps be worse employed than in watching his poor neighbours with a view to assist their necessities, if their conduct deserved it. Oh! what a les son might the proud, the dissipated, the unfeeling, and the avaricious receive, if, like me, they daily viewed human misery without disguise!

indeed! and such a creature! Who
in heaven's name can she be? Grace-
ful, interesting, so young too, for she
seems scarcely seventeen, and yet
already the bloom of youth and health
appears extinct. My window is so
placed that I could see her without
being myself discovered. It is evi-
dent that she was not born to inhabit
a garret; and at her age what can
have reduced her to it? Can it be a
lapse from chastity? Fie upon the
uncharitable idea! She looks too
to deserve the suspicion.

pure

Ten at night.-I do not know that I ever returned to the window so often as this day, and I am afraid my doubts were too well founded. This girl has done nothing all day but write a letter: that has a bad look, doubly a bad look, because there was something in her covering her face with her hand after she had finished it, and in the quick and hurried step with which she paced her room when she had sealed it, that more than

hoped.

TUESDAY.-I believe I am an uncharitable old fellow after all. She has been busy this morning in putting her miserable apartment in order, and afterwards she sat down to read: from the appearance of the book, and the seriousness of her demeanour, I think it must have been a prayer-book. That looks well: but why does not she work?

SUNDAY. It is three weeks to-day since I have been able to take my usual walk, and for a fortnight of that time, the garret, my grand resource, has been untenanted. I have heard of a man who found the horrors of captivity softened by watch-half persuaded me she is not what I ing the motions of a neighbouring mouse, and when it disappeared, he solaced himself by the hope of soon seeing another. It is with feelings somewhat similar to this poor captive's, that I look from the window of my closet for the arrival of a new tenant in the opposite garret. As to the scenes that I have witnessed, I scarcely know, now that my momentary fit of authorship has in part subsided, how to portray them. The Poor girl, the sight of her dinner miseries of the poor are, alas! wide- has completely spoiled mine-a crust ly different from those scenes of fan- of bread and a glass of water. Incied woe on which the imagination nocent or guilty, I must come to her delights to dwell. "Ah, Peter! what, assistance; at all events I can prea new-comer to-morrow, do you say? vent her plunging deeper into vice. Let us see then to-morrow what For- || I could knock my brains out for ever tune will send us." harbouring a thought to this girl's MONDAY.-Ah! there is a tenant disadvantage: my life for it, she will

Twelve o'clock, and no sign. Yes, there she is at the end of the street, tripping lightly along with a bundle. What does she turn back for? Good girl, it was to assist a poor blind man in crossing. I hug myself on having found a treasure.

She must have been abroad in search of needle-work, for she has been sewing all day. I took several peeps at her, but found her constantly employed.

come like gold out of the fire. Just || Meanwell every moment. More vexaas I had written the above, and was tion! the good woman is in the coungoing from the window, I turned to try, and wont return for some days. take another peep at her: I saw her start-nay, I could almost fancy I heard her scream at the entrance of a fashionable-looking puppy. Oh! how I regretted that I could not hear as well as see from my closetwindow! But their gestures were sufficiently expressive; there was no misunderstanding them. I fancied I could hear every word the handsome rascal said as he talked to her in an attitude of the most earnest entreaty: at last he knelt, and she-oh! what a beautiful scorn there was in the air with which she repulsed him! He pointed to the miserable meal which his presence prevented her from finishing: yes, yes, no doubt he contrasted it with the dainties which she might purchase at the price of infamy. What would I give for a picture of her at this moment, as she stands with a calm severity of aspect, that speaks more than volumes of reproach? Ah! he offers her a purse! O heaven! she pauses. No, poor girl, I wronged her-it was but to give vent to her tears. She has got rid of the scoundrel. How dignified she looked as she held the door open for him to leave the room! "Tis well the puppy went, or old as I am, I believe I should have set scandal at defiance by going and turning him out. I must get my trusty Mrs. Meanwell to go immediately to this girl; my Peter would be too clumsy a blockhead to be employed in relieving her.

WEDNESDAY.-How provoking! Where can this girl be? She must have gone out early this morning, and she is not yet returned, though it is near ten, and I expect Mrs.

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Eight in the evening.-She has had a female visitor, a well-dressed woman, who staid with her a long time. I know not why, but I have taken a dislike to this woman; a causeless one it must be, for there was nothing in her appearance to inspire it, and she seemed to regard the girl with much kindness: but yet there was something, at least I fancied so, that did not appear natural in her manner. She was too caressing; and the | poor girl appeared to think so too, for I observed her shrink from the woman several times as she took her hand. After all, I am afraid I dislike her only because I think she has anticipated me; for I saw her give this young thing money, and the girl took it with an air of modesty and thankfulness. I suppose by that she will not be long my neighbour, but I must find out where she goes to.

If I did not know myself secure against the power of love, I should be afraid that even the frost of age had not defended my heart against this girl's attractions. I must find a name for her till I can learn her own. Suppose I call her Pamela? I think it is applicable to her situation. Very well, her name shall be Pamela.

for I was at that moment the partner | thought of her alone, and the idea that the dangers I had encountered for her might bind her to me, that roused me into life again: still I am aware she is unfaithful to me, though I have sacrificed fortune, friends, and health for her sake. To be near her is the only joy I know on earth. I love her to distraction, and will never endure the thought of being supplanted by another."

of Amelia's sister in a quadrille, who, I confess, had likewise entangled my heart, and I began earnestly to think I was half in love. The dance finished, soon did the first words of Beaufort restore me to my senses, by dispelling all my love for the sisHe related to me what had passed. "O my prophetic soul!" I perceived there was more in this affair than my friend would be willing to believe; but the storm was now raised, and it was necessary to weather it out. He told me of the rendezvous he had given Delessert as soon as the ball ended, and begged me to act as his friend on this occa

"Hold, sir!" said Beaufort; "there is no necessity for adding falsehood to insolence: you have said enough already to rouse my indignation; I shall retire, and leave the rest for my friend to settle with yours." Both the principals after this quitted the room. Independently of any other The night was growing late, and obstacle, too much had been said to we returned to the hotel in the neigh-leave the slightest hope of accombouring village, where we had taken modation, and blood was now to be beds. Soon after we entered, De- shed before any further word could lessert and his friend, an officer of be spoken. his own regiment, made their appear

sion.

ance.

"Sir," said Delessert to my friend, "let us speak frankly together; our negociation may be terminated in a few words. Have you any pretensions to the lady from whom you received the ring I saw on your finger? If so, I will not beg you to renounce her; I have too high an opinion of your courage to expect it; the life of one or the other can alone decide the point. But I must observe to you, that the lady is my mistress; she has been so for upwards of a twelvemonth. I adore her beyond life; my devotion to her has proved it. I have twice braved death for her sake, and have been twice wounded: six months of anguish on a bed of sickness from the wounds I have received have taught me to know that I love her. It was the Vol. III. No. XIII.

Delessert's friend, who I really believe regretted the turn the affair had taken, and whose object and wish was to have spared a sacrifice of life if possible, first broke silence after the pause that had ensued. He said there was one point on which he wished to be satisfied before he accompanied his friend to the ground, which was, to be assured of the identity of the ring; for in fact there might exist many rings similar to the one which Beaufort wore. He asked if it bore the device of " TOUJOURS FIDELE," and was answered in the affirmative. We then proceeded to arrange the meeting for the following morning. It was agreed that they should fire together by signal, at the usual distance of twelve paces, and it fell to my lot to give the word. But a new difficulty here presented

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