most becoming to the wearer, and calculated to give _dash_ and _brilliancy_ to the _coup d'oeil_ afforded by the field as they streamed away after the hounds; moreover, the lady herself had that thoroughbred stamp and aristocratic bearing that would have rendered any innovation in equestrian costume admissable in her case. But when the complexion and style of any lady admits of it, I can see no reason why she should not wear scarlet with foxhounds as well as her brother or her husband. In summer time, too, is not dark rifle-green or any dark colour and thick cloth which attracts the rays of the sun to the certain discomfort of the wearer an absurdity, when the fair equestrian would look far better, because more seasonably attired, in light grey, light blue, or even in a habit of perfectly white linen, or similar fabric? As I have ventured to point out a pleasing alteration of conventional dress in the hunting field, I trust I may be pardoned for describing what appeared to me an equally consistent innovation in summer costume for the saddle. Last summer I saw four young ladies taking an early morning canter over a breezy down in this neighbourhood. The weather was sultry. Three of the ladies wore habits of different shades of grey, according to their respective complexions, the fabric evidently very thin. Their equipment was completed by felt hats of different shapes, exceedingly becoming. The fourth lady, who was very fair, wore a perfectly white habit, made, I presume, of linen; the jacket edged with a narrow light blue cord; her headdress was a yachting hat of Tuscan straw, encircled by and also fastened under her chin with light blue ribbon. In the front of her jacket she wore a moss rosebud. She was riding an Arab-like blood horse, and being, like her companions, not only well mounted, but a first-rate horsewoman, the effect was not only pleasing to the eye and full of "dash," but, I am sure, most conducive to the comfort of the fair riders themselves. Fashion apart, I may fairly ask, would not these four ladies have looked equally well, and felt as much at their ease, in Rotten Row as on the springy Leicestershire turf? I devoutly hope yet to see some of the leaders of fashion in the gay London season inaugurate some such change as I venture to suggest; and certain I am if they did so, Rotten Row in the month of May would present a brilliant Watteau-like appearance, very different from that produced by the prevalence of sombre colours now worn by the equestrian _habitués_ of that fashionable ride.