We arrive at Sedan-chairs and hoops too big for them; we arrive at red-heeled shoes. Though both chairs and red heels belong to the previous reign, still, we arrive at them now--they are very much in the picture. We seem to see a profusion, a confused mass of bobbins and bone lace, mourning hatbands, silk garters, amber canes correctly conducted, country men in red coats, coxcombs, brass and looking-glass snuff-boxes. [Illustration: {A man of the time of Anne}] Gentlemen walk past our mental vision with seals curiously fancied and exquisitely well cut. Ladies are sighing at the toss of a wig or the tap on a snuff-box, falling sick for a pair of striped garters or a pair of fringed gloves. Gentlemen are sitting baldheaded in elegant dressing-gowns, while their wigs are being taken out of roulettes. The peruquier removes the neat, warm clay tube, gives a last pat to the fine pipes of the hair, and then gently places the wig on the waiting gentlemen. If you can look through the walls of London houses you will next see regiments of gentlemen, their faces pressed into glass cones, while the peruquier tosses powder over their newly-put-on periwigs. The bow at the end of the long pigtail on the Ramillies wig is tied--that is over. [Illustration: A MAN OF THE TIME OF QUEEN ANNE (1702-1714) The coat has become still more full at the sides. The hat has a more generous brim. Red heels in fashion.] Running footmen, looking rather like Indians from the outsides of tobacco shops, speed past. They are dressed in close tunics with a fringed edge, which flicks them just above the knee. Their legs are tied up in leather guards, their feet are strongly shod, their wigs are in small bobs. On their heads are little round caps, with a feather stuck in them. In one hand they carry a long stick about 5 feet high, in the top knob of which they carry some food or a message. A message to whom? [Illustration: A Running Footman.] The running footman knocks on a certain door, and delivers to the pretty maid a note for her ladyship from a handsome, well-shaped youth who frequents the coffee-houses about Charing Cross. There is no answer to the note: her ladyship is too disturbed with household affairs. Her Welsh maid has left her under suspicious circumstances, and has carried off some articles. The lady is even now writing to Mr. Bickerstaff of the _Tatler_ to implore his aid. This is the list of the things she has missed--at least, as much of the list as my mind remembers as it travels back over the years: [Illustration: {A woman of the time of Anne}] A thick wadded Calico Wrapper. A Musk-coloured Velvet Mantle lined with Squirrels' Skins. Eight night shifts, four pairs of stockings curiously darned. Six pairs of laced Shoes, new and old, with the heels of half 2 inches higher than their fellows. A quilted Petticoat of the largest size, and one of Canvas, with whalebone hoops.