Englishwomen wear their hair very simply dressed, even at balls. I admire that. To my taste, those locks, a little curly and rough on the top of the head, and coiled into a knot at the back of the neck, are much prettier than the complicated monuments that are the production of some fashionable hairdresser's brain, and need a hundred hair pins to keep them together. These edifices that have taken hours to build, seem to awaken no idea in the mind, unless it be the idea of the length of time it would take to undo them, and the danger of touching them, lest the symmetry should be spoiled. On the contrary, those loosely twisted knots suggest a thousand charming ideas to the mind. Everything about a woman should be suggestive. You fancy you are going to see two pretty round arms uplifted to fasten the swaying tresses. And that is the prettiest movement of a woman, much the prettiest, you will admit. Besides this, the unfastening is but the work of an instant, and "_o'er a neck's rose-misted marble_" flows a mantle of gold or ebony. Yes, decidedly the English way of doing the hair suggests many pretty thoughts. Love feeds on suggestion: I had almost said on illusion. The greatest charm about a woman's dress lies less in what it displays than in what it only hints at. As an illustration, take the success of a dress that was a great favourite in England two years ago. It was fastened at the neck; but, lower down, it yawned open, as if burst through the pressure of _abondance de biens_, showing little, but leaving much to be guessed at. It was provoking and exceedingly piquant. Besides--let us say here all we think--this kind of bodice allowed a little cheating, and the dissimulation of a small salt-cellar here and there, which naturally made it very popular in England. It is all very well for the fair sex to tell us that it is out of pure vanity they delight in dressing prettily. I do not believe a word of it. I should not dare to affirm that they did not take a secret delight in eclipsing or crushing a rival, but I am infatuated enough to believe that it is principally to please us that they study to look lovely. It seems to me then, that we ought to have a voice in the matter, a consultative if not a deliberative voice, and to be allowed to tell them the kind of attire that pleases us most. The more so, fair ladies, that it is one of our privileges to pay the milliner's bills. * * * * * Just as glaring and showy as are the colours the lower class women array themselves in, just so quiet and simple are those worn in the street by ladies. The dresses you see in the carriages, in Hyde Park, are noticeable for their sober tints and a studied, almost Puritan, simplicity.