Women had retrograded to the old circular idea; they had
given up their pokes. It was too much--female folly had, it was
supposed, worn itself out--a revolution was wanted, and it came. To wear
the hat, however, in its primitive rotundity was impossible--it would
have suited a lady in the West Indies, but not in Europe; to tie down
the brim would not do, it would have been re-adopting the worn-out
fashions; so, just as was done in the Parisian political revolution, a
compromise of principles was resorted to--women cut off part of their
brims, turned the circle into a sort of eccentric oval, and rejoiced in
the redundant curve projecting now from the left, now on the right side
of their heads. Ribands, stiffened out into gigantic bows, set forth the
ample _chapeau_ right gaily; the brim stretched itself out with all the
insolence of a public favourite; and at length Tom Hood showed us how a
lady might go to church on a rainy day, and shelter the whole family
beneath her maternal hat. The present queen of the French wore an
enormous chapeau of this kind at the audience which Louis Philippe gave
to the peers and deputies that came to offer him the throne; every lady
in England, of a certain age, has worn a hat of the same sort.

We are bound to allow that this hat had something of the useful in it:
the ample size of the brim effectually warded off both sun and rain; and
we much question whether the parasol trade did not rather languish under
its influence. But then it had corresponding disadvantages; it was
unbearable in a windy day, and rendered any thing like close contact
with a friend impossible. To get a kiss from your pretty cousin, or your
maiden aunt, if you met them in the street, was quite out of the
question, unless you previously doffed your hat; and, as for two young
ladies laying their heads together and whispering soft secrets, no such
thing was practicable. The downfall, therefore, of such stiff and
unwieldy hats might have been foretold from an early period of their
existence; it came, and with it a counter-revolution--a restoration of
the legitimist bonnet. But, mark the malignity of a certain elderly
personage, whose name and residence we never mention in ears polite; a
change, a final change, came, and it came from the source of all
abominations--Paris! Yes! 'twas a pure and genuine invention of the
fickle people--of _la jeune France_! We gave up the restored bonnet, and
we adopted the little, reduced,