It is also not unworthy of remark, that colors which are to make a part of evening apparel ought to be chosen by candle-light; for if in the morning, forgetful of the influence of different lights on these things, you purchase a robe of pale yellow, purple, lilac, or rose-color, you will be greatly disappointed when at night it is observed to you that your dress is either dingy, foxy, or black. The harmonious assortment of well-chosen colors was once quite a science amongst women; and even now it may not only be considered as a specimen of delicate taste, but a proof of that genius which, if cultivated, might distil the hues of Iris over the animated canvass fraught with beauty and life. This union of a thousand dyes, “by nature’s pure and cunning hand laid on,” cannot be found in greater perfection than in the resplendent lap of summer; then the earth teems with gay enchantment, and presents to the fair wanderers through her fragrant bowers the loveliest raiment for their beauties. This animating and native ornament, so interesting and charming in itself, should ever find a place on the toilet of youth. How can a beauteous young woman (the fairest production of creation) be more suitably adorned than with this sweet apparel of the fairest season? It is uniting “sweets to the sweet.” Flowers recall so many pleasing images to the mind, that when a beholder sees them, he is ever put in a temper to admire; and, when they are found blended with the beauties of a lovely girl, the effect is irresistible. The simple wreath of roses, the jessamine, the lily of the valley, the snow-drop, the brilliant ranunculus, and a long train of rival sweets, offer themselves at the shrine of female taste. From this rich assemblage are selected and formed those delicious garlands which deck the snowy brows of Celia, which twine with Chloe’s golden hair. From this fair parterre we collect the variegated _bouquet_, which, reposing on the bosom of beauty, mingles its fragrant breath with hers. This tender, this exquisite sweetness, which we inhale from the lily, the rose, or the violet, is far preferable to all the extracted perfumes that ever were wafted “from Indus to the pole.” They are not only purer and more balmy; but, when, on approaching a lovely woman, we find, not only our eye delighted with the sight of beauty, but our senses “wrapped in the sweet embrace of soft perfumes;” when it is not the preconcerted fragrancy of essences drawn from east to west, and poured upon the fair with the design to _affect our senses_; then we yield ourselves to the lovely breathing of nature. We see her in the charming creature before us, blooming in youth and freshness; we feel her in the thousand odors of Paradise emanating from the newly-plucked flowers, which seem to share her being, imbibing and partaking sweetness.