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hours at the coffee-house presided over by the Countess's old servant, and it was a long way home from Russell-street to Kensington.

With respect to the work commenced and the one projected, Tonson remarked, that he always thought that Addison was a Priest at heart! and that he undertook them because he had some idea of entering the Church, and some intention of becoming a Bishop. Upon this Johnson very well remarks, "that a man who had been Secretary of State in the Ministry of Sunderland, knew a nearer way to a bishopric, than by defending religion or translating the Psalms."

We will not discuss the merits of Addison's political papers written at this period. When his Works come before the public duly edited and annotated, they will be more enjoyed and better understood, than they could be here by description, within the limited space at our disposal.

We come then to the last scene,- -a scene preceded by much suffering, but endured with much patience. Addison had long been labouring under a painful difficulty of breathing, which was now attended with dropsy. At the last moment, he is said to have called to his bed-side the youthful and dissipated Earl of Warwick, that he might see how a Christian could die. The story has been accepted by Walpole, for no better purpose than that he might declare that Addison was tipsy at the time of the incident. But not only is this notoriously untrue, but the incident itself has doubtless been much exaggerated. The expression would not have been creditable to Addison, nor was it in accordance with his humility of spirit. During his latter years he had, no doubt, grown a wiser and a better man, and his last hours may have been made profitable to a young libertine like Lord Warwick. The "legend," however, will probably stand accepted for ever. To our thinking it misrepresents Addison. He had been throughout life a worldly man, yet not without thoughts that were above the world. He had never let go his hold, if we may so speak, of the mantle of God; and in his declining health he clung more tenaciously than ever to that, and to a hope of mercy through the merits of the Saviour. The story, however, by which he is made to speak of himself as exemplifying the Christian in death, gives to him the arrogance of the Egyptian soul which, on appearing before the Tribunal of Life and Death, commenced its string of self-laudations by the humble assertion that it had never committed evil. Addison died on the 17th of June, 1719, at what may not be inappropriately called the premature age of forty-seven. Whiston fancies he is highly eulogistic of his "great friend," when he expresses his admiration of a Secretary of State who "retained such a great regard for the Christian religion, that he began to read the ancient Fathers of the first three centuries before he died." Before a

quarter of a century had passed, some of the "household of Cæsar" were listening to as competent interpreters of good tidings as the ancient Fathers; and the, era was coming when even Secretaries of State made their duty to Cæsar subservient to that which they owed to God.

As a pioneer in this great work, Addison will always obtain a full share of the respect of posterity. It was something to drag society out of the mire in which it wallowed, and give it a position on the raft of morality. He was not altogether alone in this work; but had he been aided by a thousand colleagues, the work would have been little profitable, and the raft would soon have been wrecked, but for those who went forth upon the waters of life in the only vessel that could afford salvation, and that could bring the weary to a haven of rest.

It was Madame de Staël, we think, who said, that if all men of superior minds do not exhibit a perfect morality, it is only among men of superior minds that perfect morality is to be found. The morality at which this good lady hinted could no more make men religious, than the daily association of the Athenians with all that was refined in art could make them pure in soul. The morality which is the only true morality is that pointed out by Locke, who says, that "in morality there are books enough written both by ancient and modern philosophers; but the morality of the Gospel doth so exceed them all, that, to give a man a full knowledge of true morality, I shall send him to no other book than the New Testament."

ART. V.-1. Costume in England. By F. W. FAIRHOLT, F.S.A. London: Chapman and Hall.

2. History of British Costume. By J. R. PLANCHE. London: Charles Knight.

3. Dress, as a Fine Art.

By MRS. MERRIFIELD. London: 1854.

Arthur Hall, Virtue, and Co. 4 The Principles of Harmony and Contrast of Colours. By M. E. CHEVREUL. London: Longmans. 1854.

THE earliest and most natural display of personal taste is in dress; and it has, therefore, in all ages and among all people, received peculiar attention. The demands of necessity and propriety are soon met; the "coats of skins" of which we read in the most ancient history, formed a suitable and sufficient covering. But the vanity of fallen human nature would soon display itself; and if the sons of Adam were content with the simplicity of the original design, undoubtedly the daughters of Eve contrived some ornamental additions. During the infancy of nations this vanity has but limited means for its

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display; but invention is early tasked to produce diversity of shape or colour, in order to secure individual pre-eminence, as well as for personal recognition. Required diversity soon improves the taste of the designer; and some varieties, from their appropriateness and beauty, establish themselves as a sort of standard; while new forms are continually evolved, which, at length, in a highly civilized state of society, elevate dress to the dignity of an art; while the multiform fabrics and the multitudinous designs which crowd the market make it positively a labour and a difficulty to decide "wherewithal we shall be clothed."

As the highest skill of the artisan has always been pressed into this service, the costume of any given period indicates the nation's position as to wealth, taste, the state of mechanical art, and so forth. The style of a button is often as significant as the reverse of a coin; and there are chronological tables in other than printers' types :-in fact, between fig-leaves and flounces there lies the history of the world. We find, too, that phases of national character are reflected in costume. To take familiar English examples: the prudish constraint of one Court is seen in the severe and jealous dress of Elizabeth; and the unbridled licence of another in the voluptuous undress of the time of Charles II. The gay silks and rich point-lace of the Cavalier, the plain cloth suit of the Roundhead, the Dutch fashions introduced by William of Orange, the numerous changes resulting from the last war, all illustrate the action of political and religious influences upon social life.

But if dress, when viewed retrospectively, is an index of national character, when viewed contemporaneously it is equally significant of individual character. We may judge of a man otherwise than by reading the lines of his face. His handwriting, his walk, his mode of action, his manners, every thing he does, betrays some peculiarity; and so true is this, that a telegraph clerk can tell by the working of the needles, whether his respondent two hundred miles away is nervous and undecided, or prompt and energetic. Character greatly influences the toilet, and there finds a natural expression. Some people can no more help having finery in their dress than they can help a florid style of speech; and there are others, besides Quakers, who, by the same sort of necessity, are undeniably plain in both. It is not difficult to discern whether prudence or extravagance, vanity or modesty, refinement or vulgarity, predominate, whether men and women are precise or negligent, superficial or thorough, without making their personal acquaintance.

Dress exerts, too, a powerful influence upon ourselves as well as upon observers. Every one has experienced a sense of more than discomfort,-of humiliation, when unusually

shabby; and everybody knows how disgraceful the livery of the prison is considered by its wearers. Slaves have always had a distinctive garb, which it was death for them to exchange for that of free citizens. The vestments of the Jewish Priest, the Bishop's gown, and the Judge's robe, are familiar examples of the dignity which appropriate dress confers. It would be difficult to say how far the peculiar feeling which attaches to the Sabbath may be attributed to our Sabbath clothes, or how far a gala-day would be shorn of its attractions if we could not don a little extra finery.

Unfortunately, the rules of taste are rudely violated by a large proportion of society; and it is to the correction of some of the most egregious and ridiculous of these errors that, with the free use of the works before us, we wish to direct attention.

Many ladies, and a few gentlemen, have an instinctive perception of what constitutes harmony of colour. It is not a problem, a subject of thought with them, but an instinct. Incongruity and inappropriateness offend their eye, as a discord in music grates upon another's ear. But these are exceptional cases. The finery which is often displayed by the fairer sex is something quite curious to behold. We see gentianella bonnets trimmed with pink, and either a little parterre of brilliant flowers within, or perhaps a patch of ribbon on one side and black velvet on the other, or even two discordant colours, one on either side;-light-blue shawls barred with crimson worn over dresses in which maroon is shot with amber, and many other extraordinary combinations. Ladies very rarely study what colours harmonize with their complexion, or what style of pattern is best suited to their figure. One lady who is undoubtedly sallow, orders a light blue bonnet, because it looks so well on the head of another lady who is fair. And Miss who is above the middle height, appears some day in a pretty dress, having strongly marked horizontal stripes, which, of course, have the effect of dwarfing her one or two inches; but another Miss who is both short and stout, thoughtlessly buys a similar dress, and is not a little startled at the unexpected effect.

The gentlemen are not a whit better. The colossal figure of Mr. A. appears to advantage in a full, wide-sleeved cape, which hangs about his person in goodly folds; whereupon Mr. B., who is a pudgy little man, hides himself in a garment that looks much like a Chobham tent. Mild-featured individuals look unhappy in discordant neck-ties, and insignificant creatures look selfcomplacent in clothes of conspicuous pattern. In fact, there is so little congruity between people and the dress they wear, that half the town might be going about in hired wardrobes. Indoors, and for evening dress, it is customary for ladies to display the figure so freely, that it becomes a question not so much of taste as of decency; and if the custom is barely tolerable when

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assisted by the budding freshness of youth, it is absolutely intolerable afterwards. Ladies who are no longer young, think to compensate for the ravages of time by a fuller display of their charms, and by brighter-coloured drapery, and more excessive ornament, than they would ever have ventured upon in days. when such indiscretions are easily pardoned. This is a class of errors common to both sexes. In this age of shams-of false hair, artificial teeth, rouge, padding, and straps-to be honestly genuine is to be singular, if not ridiculous; yet surely to be natural and true is consistent and correct. How flatly the grey whisker contradicts the curly brown wig above it! And how the eye that has lost its fire mocks the rouge upon the faded cheek! We are surely not so blind, that any old woman can deceive us with a mouth over-full of brilliant teeth! This sort of patchwork is much like the modern paint and stucco upon the lower story of an old house, which draws attention to the gaping chinks above, and makes the little, narrow, diamondpaned lattice look more antiquated by contrast. No, if youth is lovely, age is lovely too, as well as honourable. We gaze with pleasure on the countenance full of repose and quiet dignity; the gentle eye speaking benevolence, the sunken but healthy cheek, and the snowy hair setting off the pale flesh-tints to such advantage. There is. grace and dignity here, to which we render involuntary homage. But that other thing which is more of Art than of Nature, too proud to seem what Time has made it, we can neither love, reverence, nor pity.

Time, however, works other changes than those of material decay. The mechanical ingenuity employed with doubtful success in the art of deception, has been more worthily employed at the mill; and if the "Cleopatras" and "Cousin Feenixes" of society think the history of manufacturing enterprise a subject much too vulgar for their notice, they are willing enough to participate in the benefit of its results. If it would not fatigue them too much to carry their memory back forty or fifty years, they would recollect silks at double and treble their present price; velvets, of necessity, an occasional luxury; cotton prints at more per yard than would now furnish an entire dress; and laces, considered desirable investments for spare guineas, scraps of them hoarded up as rich treasures, only worn at rare intervals, and then looking, we are bound to say, undeniably yellow and dirty. The poorer classes had small opportunities for display. Sally went to place in the carrier's cart, her scanty wardrobe contained in a small box, and a smaller bundle. When there, she wore all day long a species of frilled night-cap on her head, a blue print bed-gown on her back, and list slippers on her feet. Hodge, the ploughman, made his choice between a blue tail-coat with brass buttons, or a drab one with broad skirts and bountiful pockets; and he was sorely puzzled in deciding between a