"It was curious to note the awful revelations made recently by a storm of wind on an elevated promenade by the sea. Every steel stood out in bold relief even under the most _bouffante_ drapery. Upper-skirts broke away from the under, and displayed the sorry fact that the latter were only shams, formed of lining-calico, with patches of good material put in here and there, where the over-garment was cut open. One neat tailor-gown revealed the cotton back to the pretty waistcoat, a pretence which is carried out in every suit of clothes made for men, but which seemed an aggravated offence to art in a well-dressed woman. It was comforting to turn from such sartorial mistakes to a group of young girls sensibly clad in simple gowns, guiltless of pretence, of steels, or _tournures_. Gathered bodices and full plain skirts, confined by broad sashes, combined the elements of grace and utility, and exhibited no foolish attempt to distort and pervert nature." I have given the full extract, as it contains much matter for thought for my readers, both young and middle-aged. I suppose everyone read with interest the celebration of the centenary of M. Chevreul, the great French chemist, who has been for years a great student of colour, and to whom we owe many alterations, inventions, and suggestions in dyes and colours. Trade has been assisted and developed by his researches, and the subject of colour harmonies has been placed by him in the position and basis of a science. When we admire the loveliness of our coloured materials, and notice the wonderful improvements of late years, we women may thank the industry and talent of M. Chevreul. I put in a long quotation from him some months ago, and it may interest some of my readers to hear that M. Chevreul has attained his hundredth year as a total abstainer, but drank his own health in a glass of champagne, tasted for the first time! [Illustration: A LADY'S PYJAMA.]