ot know why, yet gradually his passion
for red will wane, then fail. Later in the game, he will be affronted
by the colour, even as the gentleman cow in the pasture. It is not the
colour, dear madame, but the shiftless garment, which has wrought this
change.

There are few who dare to assume pink, for one must have a complexion
of peaches and cream, delicately powdered at that, before the rosy
hues are becoming. Yet, the sallow lady, with streaks of grey in her
hair, crow's feet around her eyes, and little time tracks registered
all over her face, will put on a pink dressing-sack when she gets
ready for breakfast. She would scream with horror at the thought of a
pink and white organdie gown, made over rosy taffeta, but the kimono
is another story.

Green dressing-sacks are not often seen, but more's the pity, for in
the grand array of colour nothing should be lacking, and the wearers
of these garments never seem to stop to think whether or not they are
becoming. What could be more cheerful on a cloudy morning than a
flannel negligee of the blessed shade of green consecrated to the
observance of the seventeenth of March?

It looks as well as many things which are commonly welded into
dressing-sacks; then why this invidious distinction?

When we approach blue in our dressing-sack rainbow, speech becomes
pitifully weak. Ancient maidens and matrons, with olive skins,
proudly assume a turquoise negligee. Blue flannel, with cascades of
white lace--could anything be more attractive? It has only one
rival--the garment of lavender eiderdown flannel, the button-holes
stitched with black yarn, which the elderly widow too often puts on
when the tide of her grief has turned.

The combination of black with any shade of purple is well fitted to
produce grief, even as the cutting of an onion will bring tears. Could
the dear departed see his relict in the morning, with lavender
eiderdown environment, he would appreciate his mercies as never
before.

The speaking shades of yellow and orange are much affected by German
ladies for dressing-sacks, and also for the knitted tippets which our
Teutonic friends wear, in and out of the house, from October to July.
Canary yellow is delicate and becoming to most, but it is German taste
to wear orange.

At first, perhaps, with a sense of the fitness of things, the negligee
is worn only in one's own room. She says: "It's so comfortable!"
There are degrees in comfort, varying from the easy,