On the Continent we find the evils we complain of partially remedied
by national costumes; but these are fast diminishing, and are only
to be found in all their perfection in those parts into which the
railways have not yet penetrated. Yet, who does not look with pleasure
upon the clean white cap of the French servant, or bonne, who goes
to market and to church without a bonnet, and with only her thick
snow-white cap? Who does not delight in the simplicity of dress which
the French, Norman, and Breton peasants still preserve? Contrast it
with the dress of our servant-girls, with their crinoline and absurd
little bonnets, and say which is the best taste.

After all that can be said there is no doubt that one of the objects
of dress should be to enable people to do what they have to do in the
best, the most convenient, and the most respectable manner. At all
events it should not interfere with their occupation. Did our readers
ever see a London housemaid cleaning the doorsteps of a London house?
It is a most unedifying sight. As the poor girl kneels and stoops
forward to whiten and clean the steps her crinoline goes up as her
head goes down, and her person is exposed to the gaze of policemen and
errand-boys, who are not slow to chaff her upon the size and shape of
her legs. Can this be called dressing in good taste? Would it not be
wiser to discard the crinoline altogether till the day's work is done,
and the servants make themselves tidy for their tea and their evening
recreation. In some families this is insisted on. But, on the other
hand, it is complained against as an infringement upon the liberty of
the subject, which is an unreasonable complaint, as the subject may go
elsewhere if she dislikes to have her liberty so interfered with.

Good taste in dress is a question which is, by no means, above the
consideration of old and elderly women. There are some who never can
imagine themselves old. Whether it is owing to the eternal youth of
their mind and spirits, or to their vanity, we do not pretend to say;
but one thing is certain that again and again have we been both amused
and disgusted by the way in which old women dress themselves. A lady
with whom we were acquainted used to dress in blue or white gauze or
tarlatan, or any light material she could lay her hands on, when she
was past _eighty_, and she vainly imagined that, with an affectation
of youth in her gait, and with the aid of the rouge-pot, she could
conc