Still
it is exceedingly aggravating if you think you have been making an
impression, and you return home to confront such a dejected-looking
spectacle as you find in your mirror.

I am wandering again. Let me get back to my subject--Dress. To insure
a good fit you must have your gown so tight that it is impossible to
raise your arms. You are obliged to walk about stiffly, with all the
appearance of a trussed fowl. If you wish to put on your hat you must
first unbutton your bodice! It is particularly awkward, too, in
Church: you scarcely have the power to hold your book at seeing
distance. But what do such trifles matter? You look as if you had been
melted and poured into your gown. What are a few discomforts, more or
less, when you have procured an effect such as that?

I always like to look as tall as possible. Five feet four is not a
very great height; so, to give the appearance of another inch I have
my skirts made as long as possible; that is to say, they just don't
sweep the pavement, and that is all. But, oh! the trouble of that
extra inch! Unfortunately I have no carriage, my present pecuniary
condition does not permit me the luxury of hansoms, and I always avoid
an omnibus, where you have fat old men sitting nearly on the top of
you, wet umbrellas streaming on to your boots, squalling babies, and
disputes with the conductor continuing most of the way--not to speak
of the time you have to wait while so many roll by "full inside!" So
on muddy days, when I take my walks, the amount of distress I have to
undergo on account of the length of my gown is inconceivable. I grow
weary with holding it up, and have to stop in the middle of the street
to change hands, and when you have an umbrella as well, and sometimes
a small parcel besides, this performance is anything but a momentary
matter. You drop your gown, the umbrella changes hands, and the parcel
generally falls in the mud! While picking it up, four impatient, wet,
mackintoshed pedestrians knock against you, and go off uttering
imprecations on your head. And when you are once again comfortably
settled, your satisfaction does not last long. Your left hand tires as
soon as your right, and the scene has all to be acted over again.

There is a great deal of "_savoir faire_" in holding up. Your gown
must be high enough to quite clear the ground, but then comes the
danger of holding it too high. There has been no license yet granted
for the exhibition of ankles in the