What! nothing new? No, absolutely nothing. Who knows whether the pretty trifles, the “mouches” worn by women at the present day, are not a reproduction or at any rate an imitation of similar adornments once worn by the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, or the Gauls? The ruffs which are so generally worn at present were in fashion in the time of Henri III. They were then an adjunct to masculine dress; they hold their place now in a lady’s wardrobe. As we study the history of the variations of Fashion in France alone, we perceive that feminine fancy describes an endless circle; that a particular garment is readily cast aside just in proportion as it has been eagerly adopted; that supreme, unjust, and unreasonable contempt succeeds to irresistible attraction. Fashion changes her idols at times with such rapidity, that one might exclaim with reference to female dress,— “Je n’ai fait que passer, il n’était déjà plus!” It frequently happens that the general public will adopt any costume, however eccentric, which has been worn by a celebrated person. That which seemed hideous before the whim of a celebrity induced her to appear in it, becomes the height of fashion immediately afterwards. We may quote as an instance of this an anecdote that appears in the “Indiscrétions et Confidences” of Audebert, a work published a few years ago. Mdlle. Mars was giving some performances at Lyons, and was not a little astonished, on the day after her first appearance, to receive a morning visit from one of the principal manufacturers in that city. “Mademoiselle,” said he, “I hope you will pardon the motive of my visit; you can make my fortune.” “I, monsieur? I should be delighted, but pray tell me how?” “By accepting this piece of velvet.” So saying, he spread out on the table several yards of yellow terry velvet. Mdlle. Mars began to think she was being “interviewed” by a madman. “Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed in an agitated voice, “what do you wish me to do with that velvet?” “To have a gown made of it, mademoiselle. When once you have been seen in it, everybody will wear it, and my fortune will be made.” “But nobody has ever worn a yellow gown.” “Exactly so; the point is to set the fashion. Do not refuse me, I implore you.” “No, monsieur, I will not refuse you,” replied Mdlle. Mars. And she moved towards a writing-table on which lay her purse. “Mademoiselle will not affront me by offering payment. All I ask is that mademoiselle will have the goodness to give the address of my factory, which I may say stands high in reputation.” Mdlle. Mars promised, and was delighted to be rid of her visitor. On her return to Paris she saw her dressmaker, and in the course of conversation said, “By-the-bye, I must show you a piece of terry velvet that I have brought back from Lyons; you must tell me how it can be used.” “It is of beautiful quality—quite superfine. But what is to be done with it?” “It was given to me for a gown.”