terfly, he did not very long survive his change of raiment. The Flush times then prevailed, and "our flower was in flushing when blighting was nearest." He did not however "die all for love."

CHAPTER XIV.

OLD FASHIONS.

The fashion of gentlemen's garments some fifty odd years ago, bore a strong contrast to the present, especially at the upper and at the nether ends. The throat was sweltered in as many yards of muslin, as would at the present day suffice for the lowest flounce of a lady's skirt, which if it were permissible to handle, I would not merely guess to to be about ten yards in circumference, but dropping that forbidden subject to take up the almost interminable one of the gentleman's neck gear, let me attempt to describe the process by which the exquisite of that day contrived to invest himself, like a silk worm, in the circumvolutions of his cravat. If he enjoyed the services of a valet, he held one end of the long and thin texture; and his attendant taking the other, walked round him until both ends met, when they were tied in a large

bow, and perhaps a small beau was tied therein. If he had to rely on his own resources, the plan was, to attach one end of the cravat to the bedpost, walk off to its full length, if the room permitted, and then revolve on his own periphery, till he was wound up like the main spring of a watch, or an Egyptian mummy, and when the envelopement was complete, the chin could be drawn within it, like the head of a terrapin into its shell.

Those who could afford neither the valet, nor so extensive an investment of muslin, resorted to a substitute for its bulk, in what was called a pudding, or to speak more intelligibly (since a some what similar appendage has been adopted by the gentler sex, and been promoted under a more respected name to a different, if not a higher station) a pad, which formed the foundation on which the cravat was built. As at the present day, as was whispered to me by a lady, who wished to exonerate herself from the suspicion of extravagance, the foundation of her splendid dress was mere canvass, and only the superstructure or flounces which entirely concealed it, were of the costly material-reversing the figure of a cloud with a silver lining. Here, again, have I trodden on forbidden ground-indeed, apart from all figure of speech, it requires great caution to approach a lady at the present day, without treading on her skirts.

The very stiff collar of a dress coat was made to sit as high as the ears, and to stand off several inches from the back of the head, which, otherwise, could not be turned. I saw a clumsy waiter at a dinner party, attempt to place two small dishes of custard on the table, and while he reached over a gentleman's shoulder with one dish in his right. hand, his unconscious left poured the contents of the other, into the space between the collar and the neck-the custard flowing down that channel, without soiling the coat externally.

[One word respecting the Paris fashion of ladies in 1802, which I find thus condensed; "nearly in the style of Eve-bosom prodigally displayed, petticoat festooned up rather higher than the ankles."]

Buck-skin breeches and fair-top boots, were the fashionable apparel for the nether man, except at parties and balls. The perfection of both consisted in the tightness of the fit. Artisans in buck-skin were entirely distinct from tailors, they assimilated to glovers.

On one Sunday morning, seated in an upper room, I happened to overlook an apartment opposite, in which the maker was endeavoring to invest his customer in a pair of new buck-skins. The operator was a stout man, and his patient a small one, whose legs were inserted into the garment, and the maker was in the act of thrusting his limbs home, as a sailor would say. He seized

the waistband, and shook the tenant of the breeches into them, raising him from the floor at each effort, until the bare-skin and buck-skin were in such close contact, that I cannot imagine how a separation was afterwards effected. That was a perfect fit.

A humorous old gentleman used to tell how he went a-courting in a new pair of buck-skins. It was in the country, and in November, that he mounted his horse and his new breeches.

Before he reached the residence of his dulcinea it began to rain, the wet buckskin stretched so as to permit easy movement, and in this condition he dismounted, but at each step, as the leather rubbed in contact, it sounded p-i-s-h, p-i-s-h, and to this music he entered the parlor, where the ladies were seated around a cheerful fire. They could not suppress a smile at the tones of the leather, and the Major, for my hero was a Major, felt the perspiration oozing out in spite of the cold. As he stood before the fire making his obeisance and compliments to the ladies as deliberately and as gracefully as circumstances permitted, he suddenly found himself enveloped in a cloud. He looked round for the cause, and to his dismay and confusion discovered it to be the combined effects of heat and moisture on his breeches. He could not stand the smiles which the ladies in vain endeavored to conceal, and as the fog increased in density every moment, the

Major, like a skillful soldier, retreated under cover of it. He called for his horse, made an apology to his host of sudden indisposition, or something else, and, taking leave, attempted to mount, but his buckskins, tho' expanded by the wet, had so contracted by the heat that he could not raise his foot to the stirrup. Uncavalierly as it was, he ordered the groom to lead the horse where there was vantage ground for mounting, and here, after two or three desperate efforts, he at length attained the saddle, but, in doing so, he found, to the annihilation of his vanity and of his hopes, that his buckskins had proved false, and had ripped from stem to stern, and, casting his eyes round to see if he was observed, he detected the ladies at the window in convulsions of laughter at his discomfiture.

The Major died a bachelor. A jovial man he was, who could set the table in a roar, with this among other side-splitting tales, which he told and acted with the skill of a Matthews. My attempt at the recital, compared to his, is as tame and flat as the champagne of Johnny King, who decanted his the day before the feast.

The hero of this true story was for many years Sergeant-at-Arms of the House of Delegates, and his successor was the celebrated Peter Francisco, the gigantic warrior, whose feats of strength were almost incredible to those who had never seen the astonishing development of his muscles.