eal her age. She would trip into the room like a young girl, with
her light gossamer dress floating around her as if she were some sylph
in a ballet. She was a wonderful woman for her age, and, no doubt, had
been so accustomed to the remarks that were continually made upon her
agility and appearance, that she had at last grown to think herself
almost as young as she was _sixty years_ ago. It was but the other day
that we saw an old woman with grey hair wearing a little hat placed
coquettishly upon her head, with a large chignon of grey hair filling
up the back! Sometimes we have seen old women spurning the sober tints
which accord with their years, and coming out dressed like Queens of
the May in garlands and flowers; and wearing bonnets that would be
trying even to a belle of eighteen. But when people resolutely refuse
to accept the fact that they are no longer young, it is not surprising
that they should run into some extremes, and offend against good taste
by dressing in a style utterly unsuited to their years. And yet
there is no more pleasing sight than a good-looking old woman, who is
neither afraid or ashamed to recognize the fact of her age, and wears
the quiet and sober colours which belong to her years, modifying the
fashion of the day to suit herself, that she may neither ape the young
nor affect to revive in her own person the fashions of by-gone days.
Affectation of all kinds is detestable.

So also there are rules for the young, which, if attended to, will
prevent their offending against good taste. The young are, of all
people, without excuse. The freshness of youth has a beauty of its own
which needs but little outward adornment. The ravages of time have not
to be repaired. Youth has charms of its own, and the more simply it
is attired the better. Everything is in favour of the young. When
they adopt elaborate or rich toilets, when they make flower-gardens of
their heads, or wear strong and glaring colours, the chances are that
they disfigure themselves. A young girl should never make herself
conspicuous by her dress. Let it be as good as she pleases, as costly
as she can afford, still let it be simple and unobtrusive. Let the
general effect be pleasing and grateful to the eye; but at the same
time let it be impossible to say in what it consists, or to remember
her on account of any peculiarity in it. If she is beautiful, let her
dress aid her beauty by not drawing away the attention from it. If
she is p