t on stays' at the same
early hour, reminding her that she may still wear a bodice, and
begging her not to make hot weather an excuse for going about with
naked arms 'and _legs_ and feet thrust into slippers,' but to adopt
fine thin stockings; 'and,' says our author, 'although the _tenue du
lever_ for a gentleman is a cotton or silk night-cap, a waistcoat with
sleeves, or a dressing-gown, he is recommended to abandon _cette mise
matinale_ as early as may be, that so attired he may receive none but
intimate friends.' Unmarried women, until they pass thirty, are
debarred from wearing diamonds or expensive furs and shawls, or from
venturing across so much as a narrow street without being accompanied
by their mother or a female attendant; desired never to inquire after
the health of _gentlemen_; nor, indeed, should married women permit
themselves to do 'so, unless the person inquired after is very ill or
very old.' When you dine out, you are requested 'not to pin your
napkin to your shoulders;' not to say _bouilli_ for _boeuf_,
_volaille_ for _poularde dindon_, or whatever name the winged animal
goes by; or _champagne_ simply, instead of _vin-de-champagne_, which
is _de rigueur_; not 'to turn up the cuffs of your coat when you
carve,' eat your egg from the 'small end, or _neglect_ to break it on
your plate _when emptied, with a coup de couteau_; to cut, instead of
break your bread;' and so on.

There is a great deal of sensible advice upon dress. Ladies _sur le
retour_--that is, those who are _cinquante ans sonnes_--are
recommended never to wear gay colours, dresses of slight materials,
flowers, feathers, or much jewellery; always to cover their hair, wear
high-made gowns, and long sleeves; not to adopt a new fashion the very
moment it appears; and all women, old or young, rich or poor, are
reminded that what is new and fashionably made, and, above all, fresh
and clean, looks infinitely better and more ladylike than the richest,
most expensive dresses, caps, or bonnets that are the least tarnished,
faded, or of a peculiar cut no longer worn. Those candid ladies who
persist in wearing gray hair--a mode the author rather approves of,
except where nature, which she sometimes does, silvers the locks while
the countenance still continues youthful--are requested not to render
themselves absurd by intermingling artificial flowers; and a great
deal of ridicule is also directed against the English, who not only
caricature the Frenc