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When a warm and cold color are combined in costume, the latter should always predominate thus a small quantity of pink with blue is good; the reverse is disagreeable; gray and pink also harmonize when the latter is merely the accessory. In silk and muslin materials for dress, where two or more colors are combined, the same intensity of tone should be preserved, and the effect may be lightened or deepened by the addition of white or black; for in dress broad and striking effects are seldom desirable, because they tend to overwhelm the individual. Whilst white may be in a larger proportion than the colors it is to be combined with, and is good in equal quantity, black should be only used in smaller or equal proportions. As a ground it is bad, the bright-colored designs upon it having a broken or spotty effect at a little distance, however beautiful they may appear in detail; and the point to be considered in choosing a dress, shawl, etc., is the effect the design will present to the eye at a little distance, and when arranged in drapery.

the proportion of one color to the other, one the general effect is relieved from being too of the chief things to be borne in mind when striking. The French have been very sucselecting colored designs for dress. Take, cessful in their designs of red, blue, and white for instance, a wreath of green leaves with a for ribbons and silks. Two or three shades few rosebuds, or a stray rose only, inter- of color have often an excellent effect used twined, the effect is good; but a wreath of together; but for grounds, the neutral and roses with an equal proportion of green leaves what people term quiet colors are the best. is offensive and glaring. A light green or slaty blue often throws up a good design, as well, however, as a drab or fawn; but no warm or very bright color is desirable for this purpose: pink, maize, mauve, are particularly objectionable. Not long ago when ladies wore flounces, some dresses might be seen in the shop windows, that attracted universal admiration, from the richness and beauty of the pattern and hues on the flounce. They were to be seen in all colors, and in the shop looked all equally beautiful, but when made up the bright design, against the pink and maize ground had a gaudy and disjointed effect. The eye was distracted from the pink of the dress to the white ground and gay colors of the flounce, as if they were parts of a separate costume. The same design was, however, admirable, with a gray or light shade of fawn. The general effect was harmonious, and the gay colors of the pattern appeared as they were intended, like a rich and brilliant bordering. Of late years, however, there has been so great an improvement in the designs for dresses, etc., that the fair sex are less likely to err in making their purchases, than they are afterwards in wearing them, when the putting together the different portions of modern costume is left to their unassisted taste, or, worse still, to that of the lady's maid. We once heard a story of a lady, who being in want of a maid, was told by one who presented herself for the situation, "That she had been combination maid to the Duchess of The lady, in surprise, asked in what her duties consisted? "Oh!" replied the woman, " if her Grace, for instance, wore a blue dress, it was my duty to select the bonnet, mantle, etc., to wear with it." We believe, that practically, too many ladies allow their maids to be "combination maids,” and leave to the unrefined taste and uneducated eye of a servant, a selection which should always be their own. It is only thus we can explain such a combination, as a green shawl over a chocolate-colored dress; a black hat and blue veil in which an exalted

Simplicity of pattern is therefore to be sought for, so that confusion or uncertainty may be avoided. The chiné or chintz silks, so rich in design and color, and exquisite when closely examined, have often the fault when made up, of presenting a vague, unsatisfactory effect.

Freshness of color is another point of great consequence in this murky climate of ours, and is to be obtained by what we may call harmonious contrasts. Black and white, combined with other colors, assist also to preserve it the one by keeping the colors distinct from each other, and the other by lighting them up. For instance, red and blue, although strong contrasts, would look heavy and even dull in a dress unless combined with a large proportion of white; when the colors are kept distinct, do not blend, or present a purple hue if viewed at a distance, and are lighted up by the white so as to preserve their brilliancy, at the same time that

A dark-blue dress and a black mantle is lighted up by a pink bonnet, when a red would be heavy and ugly.

In walking costume, the bonnet, as the highest point, should also be the lightest; it is the place where a bit of bright color may be introduced with the greatest success. If it repeats the hue of the dress some other color should be introduced into the shawl or mantle. From the extreme of half a dozen colors, people of late have rushed into the other, of only employing one. We sometimes see figures all blue, all brown, all mauve. No artist would paint his draperies of one unbroken hue. To say nothing of the poverty of such a composition, he knows that the eye, missing the relief of variety, would be wearied and offended; the result is equally disagreeable in dress. Any one of these three colors, however, mixed with black or white become agreeable, without the uniqueness of the costume, the point probably aimed at, being disturbed. The delicate color called mauve especially requires to be enlivened by a little white near it without this constrast to heighten its color when in a large mass, it is apt to look languid, or faded.

personage appeared one hot summer's day; or a blue dress, yellow shawl, and pink bonnet in which we saw a lady of rank attired. Even women who have studied "the becoming" with success, are sometimes very unsuccessful in arranging the whole dress; and it is perhaps the difficulty they find in combining colors, that makes so many take refuge in the quiet shades, and causes gray, black, and white, worn for half-mourning, to be so favorite a combination at all times. They feel safe, that they are not offending good taste, because "they are so quiet in their dress." But why should the bright, cheerful color be banished from costume? It is true, that the white jerkins and blue satin vests worn by the gallants of old, when we had no tall chimneys emitting volumes of smoke, and when wood was still the fuel in the noble's house, would now in a day look nearly as black as the universal cloth of man's attire, and are therefore well discarded by the workers of life; but woman's apparel is still susceptible of lively variety, and we think if a little more attention was paid to the building up of the fabric, upon the dress itself as the keystone of the whole, she would find out that bright colors, often wear as well as the useful browns, slates, etc., and It is impossible to say how many colors that an appearance of freshness may be long may with propriety be used in a costume, kept up by attention to that which is added. for so much depends upon the harmonious The general rules, we adopt for the deco-arrangement of them; but as a general rule ration or furnishing of our rooms, may be two, with or without the addition of black applied to costume. There, we reserve the or white, are sufficient. darker, heavier color for the ground or lower part of the room, keeping the light, transparent color for the upper portions; and if our chintz and hangings are gay and varied, we select a carpet that is unobtrusive in design and color. Now the dress may be considered the groundwork of the whole toilette. If, therefore, it is of a neutral or sober hue, the rest of the design may be a contrast in brighter colors; if, on the contrary, this groundwerk is of a warm tone, or full color, the rest of the composition should be subservient to it, either modifying it by the addition of some neutralizing color, or harmonizing with it in lighter shades, either of its own, or some concordant hue; for it is not necessary to preserve the same intensity of tone in the different parts of dress; generally speaking the reverse has the best effect.

We cannot, in conclusion, think that a little study of the harmony of color in dress is beneath any woman's notice, or that it is fair to stigmatize those who have successfully given some attention to it, as vain. "Whether we eat or drink," says St. Paul, "we may do it to the glory of God;" and George Herbert declares that sweeping the room may be done in the same spirit. Surely, then, the necessary adornment and care of his fairest work may be carried out in the same view; and if man's companion, whilst striving to be the comfort of his home, should at the same time desire and succeed in becoming, literally speaking, the "Delight of his eyes," she need not deem that time quite misspent, which she dedicated to the study of the art of dress.

CHAPTER X.

LIVING in lodgings, not temporarily, but permanently, sitting down to make one's only "home" in Mrs. Jones' parlor or Mrs. Smith's first-floor, of which not a stick or a stone that one looks at is one's own, and whence one may be evicted or evade, with a week's notice or a week's rent, any day-this sort of life is natural and even delightful to some people. There are those who, like strawberry plants, are of such an errant disposition, that grow them where you will, they will soon absorb all the pleasantness of their habitat, and begin casting out runners elsewhere; nay, if not frequently transplanted, would actually wither and die. Of such are the pioneers of society, the emigrants, the tourists, the travellers round the world: and great is the advantage the world derives from them, active, energetic, impulsive as they are. Unless, indeed, their talent for incessant locomotion degenerates into rootless restlessness, and they remain forever rolling stones, gathering no moss, and acquiring gradually a smooth, hard surface, which adheres to nothing, and to which nobody dare venture to adhere.

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dow watching for her mistresses' first arrival at "home," it is impossible to say. She could feel, though she was not accustomed to analyze her feelings. But she looked dull and sad, not cross, even Ascott could not have accused her of “savageness.'

And yet she had been somewhat tried. First, in going out what she termed “marketing," she had traversed a waste of streets, got lost several times, and returned with light weight in her butter, and sand in her moist sugar; also with the conviction that London tradesmen were the greatest rogues alive. Secondly, a pottle of strawberries, which she had bought with her own money, to grace the tea-table with the only fruit Miss Leaf cared for, had turned out a large delusion, big and beautiful at top, and all below small, crushed, and stale. She had thrown it indignantly, pottle and all, into the kitchen fire.

Thirdly, she had a war with the landlady, partly on the subject of their fire, which, with her Stowbury notions on the subject of coals, seemed wretchedly mean and small, and partly on the question of table-cloths at tea, which Mrs. Jones had "never heard of," especially when the use of plate and linen was included in the rent. And the dinginess of the article produced at last out of an omnium-gatherum sort of kitchen cupboard, made an ominous impression upon the country girl, accustomed to clean tidy country ways,-where the kitchen was kept as neat as the parlor, and the bedrooms were not a whit behind the sitting-rooms in comfort and orderliness. Here, it seemed as if, supposing people could show a few respectable living-rooms, they were content to sleep anywhere, and cook anyhow, out of anything, in the midst of any quantity of confusion and dirt. Elizabeth set all this down as "London," and hated it accordingly.

But there are others possessing in a painful degree this said quality of adhesiveness, to whom the smallest change is obnoxious; who like drinking out of a particular cup, and sitting in a particular chair; to whom even a variation in the position of furniture is unpleasant. Of course, this peculiarity has its bad side, and yet it is not in itself mean or ignoble. For is not adhesiveness, faithfulness, constancy-call it what you will-at the root of all citizenship, clanship, and family love? Is it not the same feeling which, granting they remain at all, makes old friendships dearer than any new? Nay, to go to the very sacredest and closest bond, is it not that which makes an old man see to the last in his old wife's faded face the She had tried to ease her mind by arrangbeauty which perhaps nobody ever saw ex-ing and re-arranging the furniture-regular cept himself, but which he sees and delights lodging-house furniture-table, six chairs, in still, simply because it is familiar, and his horse-hair sofa, a what-not, and the chiffonown? nière, with a tea-caddy upon it, of which the respective keys had been solemnly presented to Miss Hilary. But still the parlor looked homeless and bare; and the yellowish paper on the walls, the large-patterned, many-colored Kidderminster on the floor, gave an involuntary sense of discomfort and

To people who possess a large share of this rare-shall I say fatal ?-characteristic of adhesiveness, living in lodgings is about the saddest life under the sun. Whether some dim foreboding of this fact crossed Elizabeth's mind, as she stood at the win

dreariness. Besides, No 15 was on the Johanna, commanded the luggage about, and paid the cabmen with such a magnificent air, that they touched their hats to him, and winked at one another as much as to say, "That's a real gentleman!"

shady side of the street,-cheap lodgings always are; and no one who has not lived in the like lodgings-not a house-can imagine what it is to inhabit perpetually one room where the sunshine just peeps in for an hour a day, and vanishes by eleven A.M., leaving behind in winter a chill dampness, and in summer a heavy dusty atmosphere, that weighs like lead on the spirits in spite of one's self. No wonder that, as is statistically known and proved, cholera stalks, fever rages, and the registrar's list is always swelled, along the shady side of a London street.

Elizabeth felt this, though she had not the dimmest idea why. She stood watching the sunset light fade out of the topmost windows of the opposite house,-ghostly reflection of some sunset over fields and trees far away; and she listened to the long monotonous cry melting away round the Crescent, and beginning again at the other end of the street-" Straw-berries-strawber-ries." Also, with an eye to to-morrow's Sunday dinner, she investigated the cart of the tired costermonger, who crawled along beside his equally tired donkey, reiterating at times, in tones hoarse with a day's bawling, his dreary "Cauli-flow-er! Cauliflow-er!-fine new peas, sixpence peck."

But, alas! the peas were neither fine nor new; and the cauliflowers were regular Saturday night's cauliflowers. Besides, Elizabeth suddenly doubted whether she had any right, unordered, to buy these things, which, from being common garden necessaries, had become luxuries. This thought, with some others that it occasioned, her unwonted state of idleness, and the dulness of everything about her what is so dull as a "quiet" London street on a summer evening ?-actually made Elizabeth stand, motionless and meditative, for a quarter of an hour.

Then she started to hear two cabs drive up to the door; the "family" had at length arrived.

Ascott was there too. Two new portmanteaus and a splendid hat-box, cast either ignominy or glory upon the poor Stowbury luggage; and-Elizabeth's sharp eyes noticed-there was also his trunk which she had seen lying detained for rent, in his Gower Street lodgings. But he looked quite easy and comfortable; handed out his Aunt

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In which statement the landlady evidently coincided, and courtesied low, when Miss Leaf, introducing him as my nephew," hoped that a room could be found for him. Which at last there was, by his appropriating Miss Leaf's, while she and Hilary took that at the top of the house. But they agreed Ascott must have a good airy room to study in.

"You know, my dear boy," said his Aunt Johanna to him—and at her tender tone he looked a little downcast, as when he was a small fellow and had been forgiven something-" you know you will have to work very hard."

"All right, aunt! I'm your man for that! This will be a jolly room; and I can smoke up the chimney capitally."

So they came down-stairs quite cheerfully, and Ascott applied himself with the best of appetites to what he called a "hungry" tea. True, the ham, which Elizabeth had to fetch from an eating-house some streets off, cost two shillings a pound, and the eggs, which caused her another war below over the relighting of a fire to boil them, were dismissed by the young gentleman as "horrid stale." Still, woman-like, when there is a man in the question, his aunts let him have his way. It seemed as if they had resolved to try their utmost to make the new home to which he came, or rather was driven, a pleasant home, and to bind him to it with cords of love, the only cords worth anything, though sometimes-Heaven knows why-even they fail, and are snapped and thrown aside like straws.

Whenever Elizabeth went in and out of the parlor, she always heard lively talk going on among the family: Ascott making his jokes, telling about his college life, and planning his life to come, as a surgeon in full practice, on the most extensive scale. And when she brought in the chamber candles, she saw him kiss his aunts affectionately, and even help his Aunt Johanna— who looked frightfully pale and tired, but smiling still-to her bedroom door.

"You'll not sit up long, my dear? No reading to-night ?" said she anxiously.

"Not a bit of it. And I'll be up with the lark to-morrow morning. I really will, auntie. I'm going to turn over a new leaf, you know."

She smiled again at the immemorial joke, kissed and blessed him, and the door shut upon her and Hilary.

Ascott descended to the parlor, threw himself on the sofa with an air of great relief, and an exclamation of satisfaction, that "the women" were all gone. He did not perceive Elizabeth, who, hidden behind, was kneeling to arrange something in the chiffonnière, till she rose up and proceeded to fasten the parlor shutters.

"Hollo! are you there? Come, I'll do that when I go to bed. You may 'slope,' if you like."

"Eh, sir?"

"Slope, mizzle, cut your stick; don't you understand? Anyhow, don't stop here bothering me."

"I don't mean to," replied Elizabeth; gravely, rather than gruffly, as if she had made up her mind to things as they were, and was determined to be a belligerent party no longer. Besides, she was older now: too old to have things forgiven to her that might be overlooked in a child; and she had received a long lecture from Miss Hilary on the necessity of showing respect to Mr. Ascott, or Mr. Leaf, as it was now decided he was to be called, in his dignity and responsibility as the only masculine head of the family.

As he lay and lounged there, with his eyes lazily shut, Elizabeth stood a minute gazing at him. Then, steadfast in her good behavior, she inquired "if he wanted anything more to-night?"

"Confound you! no! Yes; stop." And the young man took a furtive investigation of the plain honest face, and not overgraceful, ultra-provincial figure, which still characterized his aunt's "South Sea Islander."

"I say, Elizabeth, I want you to do something for me." He spoke so civilly, almost coaxingly, that Elizabeth turned round surprised. "Would you just go and ask the landlady if she has got such a thing as a latch-key ?"

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Elizabeth went, but shortly re-appeared with the information that Mrs. Jones had gone to bed in the kitchen, she supposed, as she could not get in. But she laid on the table the large street-door key.

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| Perhaps that's what you wanted, Mr. Leaf. Though I think you needn't be the least afraid of robbers, for there's three bolts, and a chain besides."

"All right," cried Ascott, smothering down a laugh. "Thank you! That's for you,” throwing a half-crown across the table. Elizabeth took it up demurely, and put it down again. Perhaps she did not like him enough to receive presents from him; perhaps she thought, being an honest-minded girl, that a young man who could not pay his rent had no business to be giving away half-crowns; or else she herself had not been, so much as many servants are, in the habit of taking them. For Miss Hilary had put into Elizabeth some of her own feeling as to this habit of paying an inferior with money for any little civility or kindness which, from an equal, would be accepted simply as kindness, and only requited with thanks. Anyhow, the coin remained on the table, and the door was just shutting upon Elizabeth, when the young gentleman turned round again.

"I say, since my aunts are so horridly timid of robbers and such like, you'd better not tell them anything about the latch-key."

Elizabeth stood a minute perplexed, and then replied briefly, "Miss Hilary isn't a bit timid; and I always tells Miss Hilary everything."

Nevertheless, though she was so ignorant as never to have heard of a latch-key, she had the wit to see that all was not right. She even lay awake, in her closet off Miss Leaf's room, whence she could hear the murmur of her two mistresses talking together, long after they retired-lay broad awake for an hour or more, trying to put things together-the sad things that she felt certain must have happened that day, and wondering what Mr. Ascott could possibly want with the key. Also, why he

"A what, sir?" "A latch-key-a-oh, she knows. Every had asked her about it, instead of telling

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