FASHIONS OF THE WEEK.

We are now in the very height of the London winter, and certainly we have not witnessed a more splendid one during many years. All the accessories to full dress are of a most costly description, and notwithstanding the approach of Spring, we see new materials and new ornaments introduced which are only calculated for winter. But instead of commenting, it is our business to describe. Let us begin then with the

NEW MATERIALS.-One of the richest is called SatinMontespan. The ground is of a dead white, a plain but very rich silk; it is striped in large squares by a rosecolour, green, or violet stripe, lightly marbled with some opposite colour: in the centre of each square is a bouquet formed at least of four different flowers coloured after nature. These dresses have a rich effect, and look extremely well upon tall fine women, but the largeness of the pattern renders them very unbecoming to belles of

the dumpy order. A much prettier material is called cachemire gauze; it is half transparent, a white ground striped in a narrow Turkish pattern: there are generally three colours, not too full, and well-contrasted in the stripes.

ACCESSORIES TO EVENING DRESS.-One of the prettiest ball-dress bodies for a young lady is composed of a kind of net-work of narrow satin rouleaus; they should be either rose-colour, blue, or green, and worn over a lower than that of the gown, very long waisted, and white crape or gauze dress. The body is made somewhat pointed before. It is trimmed down the front with knots of gauze ribbon to correspond. Ends of gauze ribbon interwoven on the shoulder, and falling low over the sleeve form a novel and singularly pretty half-sleeve. Another elegant accessory to evening dress is a low pelerine of black blond lace; it is of a round shape, and is bordered by a row of lace of a moderate breadth, set on with little fulness, and standing up round the bust. We

assorted marriage-fétes, masked balls, &c. jumbled together in the usual strain. But of the second portion of the work, OANAH LYNCH, I can speak in terms of the highest praise. It is strongly and beautifully written, with just enough of romance to make it interesting; but I'll read a short extract. (Reads.)

However fearful the events which befal women, however subject to shocking impressions their irritable frames and and coward habits render them, they seldom fail to attain self-possession while an opportunity of being useful remains, where their exertions may succour. She who shrieked at a noise, who trembled before an animal, or at the raised voice and angry gesture of a fellow creature, can, tend the death bed with the activity of a servant, the apparent composure of a statue, and the forecast and helpfulness of a physician. True to this feeling, Oanagh and her companion sought by every means they could devise to restore Schenk to animation, though without success. Madame St. Clercy at last spoke, and telling Oanagh that she would call in the aid of a physician, whose residence in the neighbourhood she knew, quitted the house, leaving Miss Lynch supporting the inan imate Schenk. The breeze, as it entered through the casement, shattered by the explosion, caused the famp's light to waver; and its uncertain gleams gave at times an appearance of returning sense to the ghastly countenance she gazed on, which she sometimes hailed as symptoms of reviving life, at others, as the precursor of that struggle by which soul and body parts., Madam St, Clercy did not return; the time of her absence seemed ages, and as the confusion of Oanagh's mind subsided, a sentiment of awe and horror increased; the chill and stiffness of death was evidently stealing over the corpse; the keen expression faded with the relaxing muscles his hand relaxed the iron rod-Schenk no longer existed!-When all hope of assisting him was over. Oanagh became touched with a superstitious dread. She feared she guessed, how little the spirit was prepared to part with the earth which lay before her; she thought with horror of his unlawful pursuits, of the use she had made of him, and the sin she had committed in

buying his services. She saw that his crime had produced its own punishment, would hers escape? He sought gold! boundless riches! he had wasted what was attainable; the means of enjoyment were gone, and the life wherewith to enjoy them.

Miss B. I like it much: the scene is well written, and in good keeping. What Mrs. Modish so early? Enter Mrs. Modish.

Where's your shadow, Miss Harmonica?
Mrs M. Oh! she'll be here anon..

Miss B. What of Theatricals, Lady Fashionist? Mrs, M. Oh! I am half weary of them: I've been in public nearly every night since we met last. Let's see-at Drury Lane I witnessed the debut of Miss Duff as Donna Anna, who appeared in the character in consequence of Madame de Meric's services being required at the Opera House. Poor Miss Duff was dreadfully nervous on her first entrée, and indeed in one part of the Opera entirely lost all self-command; but even amid all these disadvantages, shewed that blossoming of talent for her profession, that when a little mellowed by time and the habit of facing a public audience, will no doubt ripen into a beauteous flower." The Ballet, in which the graceful Duvernay figures away, has drawn good and profitable houses.

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Miss B. And the new play of Reputation at CoventGarden

Mrs. M. Has certainly not added to that of the author; but as the ink that records its failure will scarcely be dry before it will probably be withdrawn, I will say no more on the subject. I have also taken another peep at Miss Kelly, and must say her entertainment improves on acquaintance. It is a vast undertaking for ONE WOMAN to keep an audience amused and in good humour for four hours. Her personation of Mrs. DRAKE is admirable; but the little sketch of the "MINUTE INTERVIEW" is worth all it is a genuine touch of nature. Her vivid recollections of JOHN KEMBLE, MIS SIDDONS, and Mrs. JORDAN, carried ME back, like herself, to those "earlier days and happier hours" of Theatrical feelings that never can return. (A pause.)

Here comes Harmonica.
Miss H. Give me a cup of tea, ladies. (One of the
Subs present it.) I'm so fatigued—I've not been in bed
till the "crowing of the cock" this week.
Mrs. B. What a rake!

Miss B. Well, then, you've plenty to report to us: pray be quick, for 'tis now nearly midnight.

Miss H. Then to begin. On Friday I was in the Hall of Freemason's Tavern to witness the 95th Anniversary of the Royal Society of Musicians. Such a treat! The selection of songs and glees were chiefly from the old masters, and admirably executed. "Dainty fine sweet Nymph," madrigal and full choir, was exquisitely given and encored, as was Stevens's glee, "Some of my heroes are low." But the gem of the evening was "Sweet honey-sucking Bees," composed by Wilbye in 1609, and certainly every note dropt sweetness: this was also encored. Mr. Parry, Jun. sang a lovely little ballad, "Bendemer's Stream," and accompanied himself on the harp, and of course met with his usual fate--an encore.

Miss B. Mr. Parry, Jun. is unquestionably the sweetest male ballad singer of the day, and he possesses a power which few other singers do, or at least if they do, only rarely put in practice that of giving distinct utterance

to his words, so that the hearer knows what the song is about; for in one half of the singers of the day the dir is all we can catch, and the meaning of the poetry never i reaches us.

Miss II. Your remark is most correct, and Mr. Parry Jun. does justice in his songs to the POET as well as the COMPOSER. I think his manner of singing " Oft in the stilly Night" is the most touching I ever heard.

ning's amusements? Miss B. Then you were much pleased with the eve

Miss H. Nothing could be more gratifying, and the ladies in the Hall (with whom I sat) were truly sensible of the great attention paid them by the Stewards, whose busines it was to attend to their accommodation. I was happy to hear the collection after dinner was a liberal one. Besides the vocal music, the company were delighted of with Messrs Moscheles, Nicholson, Blagrave, and Willman on the several instruments of which they are professors.

Miss B. Have you been at the Opera?

Miss H. Oh yes. I witnessed Rossini's Opera SemiSeria of Mathilde de Shabrone Coradino. The part of Edonardo was omitted, as Mademoiselle Schiassetti refused! to accept it. Madame Boccibadetti made her second appearance. Her school is of the highest order in miste it is curious that her grandest note is C above the line, i which is full and rich, though the three lower ones are harsh and somewhat unmusical. I must tell you that Hummel the celebrated Pianist, has arrived in town, and will direct the German Opera at the King's Theatre this season.

Mrs. B. Well, really you have told us a vast deal,i and as you have been such a rake lately, Harmonica, we will have pity on you now, and let you get to bed by thẻ "first hour o' the morning."" Miss B. Is it indeed so late? Let us separate, Sister Councillors, to bed! to bed!"

to

the before-mentioned domestic, whose name was Rambleton, and who had for some time past professed himself my lover. Ah! Sir, I am now perhaps too near my end to withhold any circumstance of my guilty life. Rambleton would often tell me of the large sums with which he knew his master sometimes travelled. I became by degrees familiarized with the daring project at which he would at times darkly hint; aud though some remains of honest principle bade me hesitate to sanction an actual robbery, yet neglect of Divine precept had so far influenced my sense of moral duty, that I was unable to combat the united temptations of quickly acquired wealth and attentions so flattering to my vanity.

"I am unable to dwell upon this painful recollection more than briefly to add, that Rambleton succeeded but too well. We continued to evade pursuit, and at length reached without interruption a distant foreign shore: but I shudder to unfold the horrible accession of crime with which, soon after, a sudden burst of unruly passion acquainted me; as, by his own unwary confession, the villain had deprived his hapless employer of existence as well as property. From this moment my sentiments owned an entire revolution, while those of Rambleton towards me ceased to be other than suspicion and constant terror. Ah! Sir, punishment preserves with crime an even and awful pace: this the seared conscience may deny, but is not that very state which precludes the soothing tear of repentance in itself the direst of punishments? Yet such was not yet mine. No, Sir: scarcely had I in some degree stifled the first apprehensive terrors of detection, when I proved all the misery that, sooner or later, must become the lot of every female who submits to a connection outraging moral law and Divine command; nor will affection, or even gratitude plead for her in a heart where her virtue has never excited esteem, or justified respect and confidence. A mind yours, Sir, will easily conjecture my life of terror with Rambleton, whose fear of being betrayed alone prevented abandoning me. At length, after a lapse of some years, he was unable longer to resist his ear. nest desire of revisiting his native country. Imagining the affair must be forgotten, he ventured cautiously to return to England, and I began to indulge a hope of obtaining that refuge from his tyranny which in a foreign land I should have sought in vain. I had succeeded in my escape; when, discovering my flight, Rambleton instantly pursued, and overtaking me, his reply to my upbraidings and threat of betraying his crime, caused the blow that has rendered me the grateful object of your humane care."

like

The Penitent ceased speaking, and Firmworth regarded her with sentiments of increased interest and commiseration. "Your life of misery," observed he, "has in a great degree expiated your early deviation from the path of rectitude; and the penitence you now express may perhaps be the dawn of many years of peace yet in store." "Your words are very kind, Sir," she replied, "very consoling: listening to you would almost justify the opinion of my unfortunate master, that we should not greatly miss our spiritual teachers; but in this, perhaps, you already agree." "You are mistaken," replied the worthy man with "If the shepherds slumber,' for that they must answer; but the individual failings of some of its delegates cannot detract aught from the Divine

warmth.

Ordinance-the grand bulwark of a Nation's pros perity. Woe to that People who repose not their laws, their liberties, and proudest immunities upon their sacred altars. Woe to the Land when the inhabitants shall cease to Fear God' and-- Honour the King,' he added in a more subdued tone. "But you are weary: I'll leave you awhile, and trust ere long the conviction of having found a sympathizing friend will induce your further confidence."

Time continued to wear onwards; but the unhappy young woman was evidently fast declining. It became also currently reported that the assassin had been secured, which was soon after confirmed by the worthy surgeon, as he endeavoured to prepare his agitated "I would have patient for the event near at hand. you collect yourself," said he, "and remember that all concealment on your part must soon be at an end.” The stranger sighed, and bowed her head in silence.

The important day at length arrived; and it was not long ere busy rumour made known the result. Sentence of death had been passed on William Rambleton; and many were now reminded of the little village orphan, as with mingled surprise and horror they also heard that his companion, ROSE FIELDER, had been likewise arraigned, though the evidence had been such as to acquit her of being accessory to his crime.

It was several days after that Rose Fielder was prevailed upon to return to the asylum formerly afforded by the protectress of her early youth. Both had in some degree recovered from the first painful recognition, and the poor old woman sat mournfully gazing upon her now evidently dying charge. "Come, Rosy," sobbed she, "cheer up! what's done is past, you know; so we'll say no more about it, and be thankful as things ha' turned out so well for ye; so I says again, Rosy, cheer up. Why, bless me! my dear, you be but young yet." "My kind friend! my second mother!" replied Rose, "I am, as you say, young; and soon will you have to speak of me as one that was short-lived. She died, you will say, at the early age of twenty-five. Nay, do not weep so, dear friend: prepare for the event that I feel is already so near, I know how you will grieve, and that you will often think-often speak of me. When you take your favourite Sunday stroll, you will be reminding your neighbours; and you will perhaps be saying, There it was, that as she gambol'd before me with all the frolic of childhood, that I checked her noisy merry laugh.' You will point out the grave of my poor parents; and then, my kind friend, then you may add, There it was that I dried her orphan tears.' You perhaps will also say, 'There at last is her grave.' Then should you hear some unkind, too harsh remark, from some one who may know but little of my sad story, you will defend my memory; you will say, But her heart was not really wicked: she was very young-she was unprotected--she was influenced by the world, and led astaay by evil example-and she died--truly penitent.' You will say all this, my dear friend, will you not? Oh! yes, yes, you will; for I shall still be dear to you, and you will think of me very-very often." The poor old woman attempted in vain to reply.

I am sure

The invalid had been placed near an open window, it being the noon of a fine summer's day. It was an hour of that stilly sweetness well calculated to soothe