Amongst early nations--our own for instance, which I put upon the same level as the aboriginals of Australia or the natives of New Guinea--we find the same instinct for art and observation of nature: there is no nation so low or primitive that it does not indulge in ornament. It is also a curious point in natives, that, the more primitive they are, the more refined they are in their taste, the nearer they are to nature and each other; it is the half-civilised only who depart from the imitation of what they see about them, and indulge in eccentricities and extravagances. This directness and simplicity stamp each effort of the child and the savage when they attempt to express their ideas--ideas which are prompted by what they see; and the same directness and simplicity are the sign-marks on all the most perfect work of the finished artist, whether he is the designer of pictures, churches, pleasure-grounds, or the costumier who strives to cover the defects of his wealthy patron. Talking about clothes and the near affinity between nature and art--even in this minor department I remember once the great Parisian autocrat of costumes, Mr. Worth, coming to Melrose especially to study the ruins of that fine abbey to get ideas for future designs in ladies' dresses. His system is to look at the woman who comes to him for advice in this all-important matter, see how she walks backwards and forwards, studying as she does so all her good points and defects; then, being a poet in his own line, he imagines her as the ideal woman, and, without troubling himself about her own tastes or inclinations, he creates a dress in shape and colour which will make her as nearly approaching to his ideal woman as she can be made. This is his great secret and the cause of his success and popularity: he always strives to work up to his ideal of beauty and the perfection of nature in the most direct and easiest way possible. As proof of this, a friend of mine once went to him to get a costume. This lady could never get any dress to suit her; something was for ever amiss with either the tone or shape. Nature had not been over kind to her either in form or colour, and her dressmakers, as she did herself, always attired her according to the fashion of the hour, which, of course, not being originated for her specially, could not be expected to suit her. Worth was at last caught in a moment of leisure by this applicant, who had lingered about the threshold of his palace of fashion for some weary weeks before she could gain her point. The great man looked her over critically, as one might examine a horse for sale at a fair; then he made her walk before him twice, and, telling her 'that would do,' consigned her to an assistant, who took her measurements, her name and address, and gave her a receipt for her fee of one hundred guineas.