Fig. 4.—Dress of white muslin, the skirt with three deep flounces, richly embroidered. The body, à basquine, is lined with pale blue silk; it has a small pattern embroidered round the edge; which is finished by a broad lace set on full. The sleeves have three rows of lace, the bottom one forming a deep ruffle.—Waistcoat of pale blue silk, buttoning high at the throat, then left open, about half way, to show the chemisette; the waist is long, and has small lappets. White lace bonnet, the crown covered with a fanchonnette of lace; rows of lace, about two inches wide, form the front. The bonnet is appropriately trimmed with light and extremely elegant flowers.
Fig. 5.—Fanchon of India muslin, trimmed with pink silk ribbons, forming tufts near the cheek, and a knot on the head.
Fig. 6.—Pagoda sleeve of jaconet, with under-sleeves; trimming relieved with small plaits.
The new materials of the season include some elegant printed cashmeres, bareges, and broche silks, in endless variety as to pattern, and combination of color. There are some beautiful dresses of lampas, broché, with wreaths and bouquets in white, on a blue, green, or straw-colored ground. Among the lighter textures, adapted for both day and evening wear, are some very pretty mousselines de soie, and grenadines. The new bareges are in every variety of color and pattern.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by Harper and Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
[B] Continued from the June Number.
[C] Every one remembers that Goethe's last words are said to have been, "More Light;" and perhaps what has occurred in the text may be supposed a plagiarism from those words. But, in fact, nothing is more common than the craving and demand for light a little before death. Let any consult his own sad experience in the last moments of those whose gradual close he has watched and tended. What more frequent than a prayer to open the shutters and let in the sun? What complaint more repeated, and more touching, than "that it is growing dark?" I once knew a sufferer—who did not then seem in immediate danger—suddenly order the sick-room to be lit up as if for a gala. When this was told to the physician, he said gravely, "No worse sign."
[D] Continued from the June Number.