Yesterday morning the grand task of my decoration was to commence. Ah! good Lord! I can hardly recollect particulars.--I am morally convinced my father would have been looking for his Julia, had he seen me;--and would have spent much time before he discovered me in the midst of feathers, flowers, and a thousand gew-gaws beside, too many to enumerate. I will, if I can, describe my head for your edification, as it appeared to me when Monsieur permitted me to view myself in the glass. I was absolutely ready to run from it with fright, like poor Acteon when he had suffered the displeasure of Diana; and, like him, was in danger of running my new-acquired ornaments against every thing in my way. Monsieur alighted from his chariot about eleven o'clock, and was immediately announced by Griffith, who, poor soul! stared as if he thought him one of the finest men in the world. He was attended by a servant, who brought in two very large caravan boxes, and a number of other things. Monsieur then prepared to begin his operations.--Sir William was at that time in my dressing-room. He begged, for God's sake! "that Monsieur would be so kind as to exert his abilities, as every thing depended on the just impression my figure made."--Monsieur bowed and shrugged, just like an overgrown monkey. In a moment I was overwhelmed with a cloud of powder. "What are you doing? I do not mean to be powdered," I said. "Not powdered!" repeated Sir William; "why you would not be so barbarous as to appear without--it positively is not decent." "I thought," answered I, "you used to admire the colour of my hair--how often have you praised its glossy hue! and called me your _nut-brown maid!_" "Pho! pho!" said he, blushing, perhaps lest he should be suspected of tenderness, as that is very vulgar, "I can bear to see a woman without powder in summer; but now the case is otherwise. Monsieur knows what he is about. Don't interrupt or dictate to him. I am going to dress. Adieu, _ma charmante!_"