Nevertheless, despite the “I Spys,” and the perennial charms of Mrs. Juno-Athene, beauty is as rare and choice a thing as ever it was in the days of old when men went mad for it, and Greeks and Trojans fought for Helen, who, so some historians say, was past forty when her bewitching fairness set the soul of Troy on fire. A really beautiful woman is scarcely ever seen, not even in Great Britain, where average good looks are pleasantly paramount. Prettiness,--the prettiness which is made up of a good skin, bright eyes, soft and abundant hair, and a supple figure,--is quite ordinary. It can be seen every day among barmaids, shop girls, and milliners’ _mannequins_. But Beauty--the divine and subtle charm which enraptures all beholders,--the perfect form, united to the perfect face in which pure and noble thought is expressed in every feature, in every glance of eye, in every smile that makes a sweet mouth sweeter,--this is what we may search for through all the Isles of Britain, ay, and through Europe and America and the whole world besides, and seldom or never find it. Nine-tenths of the women who are styled “beautiful” by the society paragraphist, possess merely the average good looks;--the rest are generally more particularly distinguished by some single and special trait which may perchance be natural, and may equally be artificial, such as uncommon-coloured hair (which may be dyed), a brilliant complexion (which may be put on), or a marvellously “svelte” figure (which may be the happy result of carefully designed corsets, well pulled in). Most of the eulogized “beauties” of the Upper Ten to-day, have, or are able to get, sufficient money or credit supplied to them for dressing well,--and not only well, but elaborately and extravagantly, and dress is often the “beauty” instead of the woman. To judge whether the woman herself is really beautiful without the modiste’s assistance, it would be necessary to see her deprived of all her fashionable clothes. Her bought hair should be taken off and only the natural remainder left. She should be content to stand _sans_ paint, _sans_ powder, _sans_ back coil, _sans_ corsets, in a plain white gown, falling from her neck and shoulders to her feet, and thus cheaply, yet decently clad, submit herself to the gaze of her male flatterers in full daylight. How many of the “beautiful” Mrs. Juno-Athenes or the “lovely” Lady Spendthrifts could stand such a test unflinchingly? Yet the simplest draperies clothe the Greek marbles when they are clothed at all, and jewels and fripperies on the goddess Diana would make her grace seem vulgar and her perfection common. Beauty, real beauty, needs no “creator of costume” to define it, but is, as the poets say, when unadorned, adorned the most.