The Press.
London, England, 1857-10-10 00:00:00

THE PRESS, OCTOBER 10,1857.

" Indeed Mr. Tremaine I have, let—me—see, I think
it was at a fancy ball,—in my own house—,at New York."
The words were said with assumed carelessness and
candour.
" What, on uo other occasion ?"
" On no other public occasion—why?" inquired Caroline
so innocently.
"Then really I think too much has been made of it. But
you are said to advocate the Bloomer costume."
" I have often advocated it, in words sir; but wearing i
is a very different matter you know."
" Very diffetent, very different indeed," said Tremain e,
hastily.
" I could not help advocating it; its adversaries argued
so weakly against it. Shall I repeat their arguments, and
my own ?"
" If you please."
Caroline, with the calm indifference of a judge, stated
the usual argument pro and con., and did nut fail to dwell
upon the trousers of East= women. Mr. Tremaine took
her up.
"Theta is a flaw in your reasoning I think," said he ;
" those Eastern women distinguish themselves from men
by a thick veil—they all wear a thick veil. It appears
to me that the true argument against Bloomer has never
been laid before you. It is this: in every civilised nation,
the entire sexes are distinguished by some marked costume.
But Bloomer proposes that one third of' the women shatild
be et variance with the other two thirds."
" Oh no sir, she is for dressing them all in Bloomers."
"No, excuse me, how would old women and fat women
look in a Bloomer? How would young matrons look. at
that period when a woman is most a woman ? No, the
dress for woman must clearly be some dress that becomes
all women, at all times and occasions of life. There are
plenty of boys of sixteen or seventeen who could be dressed
as women, and eclipse all the women in a ball room ; but
it would be indelicate ant unmanly. You, with your
youthful symmetrical figure, could eclipse most young men
in their own habiliments; but it would be indelicate and
unwomanly. Forgive me, I distress you."
" No sir! but you convince me; and that is new to me.
I admit this argument at once ; and so I would have done
six months ago ; but no one hail the intelligence to put the
matter to me so," said the sly thing.
- -

Of the denouement, which is of a decidedly
original character, we shall only say that it is
the reverse in more than one respect of that
described in the popular song of " Johnny
Sands." The whole story, though professing
to be nothing more than a jem d'esprit, is full
of point and epigram, and everywhere shows
that subtle knowledge of the feminine heart
for which its author is remarkable. We must,
-by the way, except from our praise one per-
verse sent nce

Mr. Tremaine had not observed what we have; that
snobs in fustian jackets without a singe polysyllable to
their tongues find all the gold'and all the coal that is found ;
and science finds the crustaceoniduncnlie.

The fact, as everyone will be aware who thinks
for a moment on the subject, is exactly the
reverse. It is the geologist's hammer which
is the true divining rod, and ignoramuses in
broadcloth jackets as well as snobs in fustian
(though we question whether the true snob
would condescend to wear fustian) constantly
dig for coal and water where a man of science
would tell them in a moment that none could
possibly be found ; and Sir R. Murchison pre-
dicted the discovery of gold in Australia, from
the presence of quartz, long before the first
nugget was ever heard of.

" Art, a Dramatic Tale," will remind the
reader of " Peg Woffington "—the " situation "
indeed is so similar as to detract in some
degree from the freshness of the present
story. In both, the successful and fascinating
actress, over whom the assaults and flatteries
of practised roués pass innocuously, is herself
won by the honest, vehement, delicate affec-
tion of a somewhat more homely admirer.
Anne Oldfield, the heroine of " Art," having
unintentionally inspired with a violent passion
a youth who has come to London to study
law, is implored by his father, who has dis-
covered his attachment, to disenchant him.
He is accordingly admitted to his first inter-
view, and finds her—for she ean, of course,
:et anything—a coarse, vulgar, commonplace
woman, with the most grovelling notions of her
art, and utterly destitute of poetical feeling.
He is disenchanted ; but the remedy is worse
than the disease, and he becomes so miserable
at the destruction of his imaginary idol, that
the lady is obliged, at his father's request, to
appear in her true colours—those of a refined
lady as well as of a feeling woman. All this
should natu►ally end in a marriage ; unfortu-
nately history forbids the veracious chronicler
to effect this pleasing result:—
A Story ought to end wiih a marriage: ought it nit?
Well, this one does not, because there are reasons that
compel the author to tell the truth. The poet did not
niarry the actress and het tragedies amt comedies.
dots not always end in marriage, even behind the scenes