It was in a fashionable milliner's shop in New Bond Street. A scarecrow in petticoats had just chosen, after an hour's hesitation, a sweet little white hat, that a girl of twenty would have thought too childish for herself. Two pretty assistants bowed the lady out with a very grave look, and closed the door. "I think women ought to expire at forty, don't you?" said one of them to her companion. And the two wicked creatures were near exploding with fun. The fashionable shops are not the only ones that keep a good stock of nice-looking English girls. Some of the finest specimens are to be seen in the restaurants and buffets. Messrs. Spiers and Pond have legions of them under their orders. These magnificent daughters of Albion are of an inferior social grade, but they are well behaved, and, for the most part, remarkably handsome. They are not so modest as to be unable to bear the gaze of the sterner sex, or to allow a few dandies to have a little flirtation with them over their glass of wine; but still women who consent to stand behind a counter from ten in the morning to twelve at night, for a salary of about thirty shillings a week, are evidently respectable. In the case of a young and handsome woman, a modest income is a certificate of virtue. Once more, it is in the theatre that, in default of talented actresses, you may admire beautiful women. I am bound, however, to make an exception here in favour of Mrs. Stirling, the greatest _comédienne_ in England, who, in spite of her talent as a teacher, will leave no one after her to replace her; of Mrs. Bernard Beere, so _sympathique_, so refined; of silver-voiced Mrs. Bancroft, so gay, so sparkling with fun and mischief; of Miss Ellen Terry, so gracefully youthful, frolicsome, and coaxing; of Mrs. Kendall, the first among sentimental heroines of the English stage, with her delicacy, pathos, and irreproachable purity of diction. With the exception of the actresses just mentioned, you will see very little to admire on the London stage but pretty women. And, after all, this is not to be despised; one may pass an evening very agreeably in looking at pretty faces and fine shoulders, especially after dining _à l'anglaise_. When you have partaken of the fifth repast spoken of by Lady John Manners, your intellect is not very exacting. So, I will not hesitate to advise you, when you come to London, to go and see the grand spectacular pieces, the Drury Lane pantomimes included, even if the great impresario (to do him justice, no one knows how to mount a play as he does) were to mention, in his next advertisements, that I gave you such advice. It is impossible to speak of English actresses without mentioning the beautiful American lady who drew crowds to the Lyceum this year, in the absence of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry, who were at the time delighting the Yankees. Miss Mary Anderson may boldly be proclaimed the champion beauty of the world.