The neck is very freely displayed in England by ladies in evening dress; less so, however, than formerly, I am told. It would seem as if, starting from the head downwards, an Englishwoman did not mind how much she uncovered herself: provided she does not show her feet, she is happy. When the streets are muddy--and Heaven knows what black, dirty mud we have in London--you will never see the women lift their skirts as they walk; they seem by instinct to prefer getting them muddy to the waist. Consequently, the gentleman who follows a neat pair of ankles in Paris is never seen in London. The Englishwoman's skin is generally fine, and beautifully white and smooth; satin and alabaster; a neck like the swan's. The shoulders and hips are frequently too narrow; and, unfortunately, the bosom is too often a _quantité négligeable_ in the enumeration of an Englishwoman's charms. But when there is something to display, good heavens, how proud they are of it! They carry it like church banners. The first thing that strikes one in Paris on arriving from England is the embonpoint of the women. By the powers! they seem to be having a good time under the Republic. What development! What exuberance! Ladies, it is really alarming: a little moderation, pray, or you will soon have to throw your corsets over the hedge. * * * * * The Englishwoman walks on the flat foot, and lets her arms hang; the Frenchwoman puts her toes to the ground first, and her arms are folded in front of her: it is more graceful, but not so comfortable. The last time I visited Paris, I saw with pleasure that the high, pointed heels, that were stuck in the centre of the sole, had begun to give place to the English heels: this is a great progress. And, _mesdames_, since you are beginning to imitate what is sensible in the English _toilette_, allow me to give you a piece of advice that your husbands will be very pleased to see you follow. It is you who have the honour of setting the fashion to the civilized world. You wear your clothes so gracefully, and you are so charming, that even a frying-pan would look pretty on your heads. But I object to your hats and bonnets. Yes, those _tyroliens_, loaded with feathers, aigrettes, pompons, birds, fruit, and what not, are very dear and exceedingly ugly. You seek too much to attract to your hats that attention which should be bestowed entirely on your matchless eyes.