A bonnet decorated with loops of ribbon and sprays of grass, or flowers
that fall aslant, may give a laughably tipsy air to the long face of a
saintly matron of pious and conservative habits.

A peaked hat and tight-fitting, long-skirted coat may so magnify the
meagre physical endowments of a tall, slender girl that she attains the
lank and longish look of a bottle of hock.

Oh! the mocking diablery in strings, wisps of untidy hair, queer
trimmings, and limp hats. Alas! that they should have such impish power
to detract from the dignity of woman and render man absurd.

Because of his comical attire, an eminent Oxford divine, whose life and
works commanded reverence, was once mistaken for an ancient New England
spinster in emancipated garments. His smoothly shaven face, framed in
crinkly, gray locks, was surmounted by a soft, little, round hat, from
the up-turned brim of which dangled a broken string. His long frock-coat
reached to just above his loosely fitting gaiters.

The fluttering string, whose only reason for being at all was to keep
the queer head-gear from sailing away on the wind, gave a touch of the
ludicrous to the boyish hat which, in its turn, lent more drollery than
dignity to the sanctified face of the old theologian. Who has not seen
just such, or a similar sight, and laughed? Who has not, with the
generosity common to us all, concluded these were the mistakes and
self-delusions of neighbors, relatives, and friends, in which we had no
share?

I understand how it is with you. I am one of you. Before I studied our