“A yellow gown! I never sent one out in my life!” “Well, then, suppose we make the experiment.” “Madame can venture on anything.” A few days later, Mdlle. Mars, who had gone early to the theatre, put on the yellow terry velvet gown. When her toilet was finished, she inspected herself in the glass from every point of view, and exclaimed,— “It is impossible for me to appear on the stage in such a gown!” Vainly did the manager, vainly did her fellow-actors implore her not to ruin the performance by refusing to appear. Mdlle. Mars was obstinate. “She would not,” she declared, “look like a canary bird.” At length Talma succeeded in persuading her that her dress was in perfect taste, and eminently becoming. Convinced by his arguments, Mdlle. Mars at length ventured, though with some misgiving, on the stage, where she was received with a murmur of admiration. All the ladies inspected her through their opera-glasses; there was loud applause, and “What a charming gown!” was uttered on all sides. The next day all Paris was ringing with Mdlle. Mars’ yellow gown, and the week was hardly over before a similar one was to be seen in every drawing-room. Dressmakers were overwhelmed with work, and from that day yellow has held its own among the colours considered as the right thing for gowns. A few years later Mdlle. Mars revisited Lyons; the manufacturer, whose fortune she had made, gave a splendid fête in her honour, at his charming country house on the banks of the Saône. He had paid for the mansion out of the profits arising from the enormous sale of yellow terry velvet. How often since Mdlle. Mars’ time have actresses decisively set the fashion in dress! The Théâtre-Français, the Gymnase, and the Vaudeville have been, as it were, exhibitions, where the feminine world has taken lessons in dress. Who does not recollect Sardou’s comedy, “La Famille Benoîton,” in which for several years there was a continuous show of eccentric costumes? It must be admitted that actresses, who charm by their genius, their gestures, and their diction, confer on costume all the expression of which it is capable, and lend a significance all their own to the achievements of the mantua-maker. Is it enough to be brilliantly attired? to be remarkable for eccentricities in dress? to display costumes of the most fantastic kinds? Certainly not. Besides these things the wearer must know how to make the very most of her attire. Fashion and coquetry are twins. It matters not how far we may look back into antiquity, among the Egyptians, the nations of the East, the Greeks, the Romans, or the inhabitants of Gaul, we shall always find these two sisters linked together, giving each other mutual help, and adapting themselves to the climate, to the peculiarities of the soil, and to the passions of the inhabitants. From earliest childhood our French girls are trained in coquetry by their own parents, innocently enough no doubt, but still such training is not without its dangers.