Pelisses of a close wrapping kind, of fine Merino cloth, trimmed with a light fur and tasteful capes, chiefly with points, ornamented with conic tassels, are much in requisition; and the Brandenburgh trimming, though it has long been the mode, is yet very prevalent, in all colours. The Comet hat and mantle still continue in favour; but from the generality of the scarlet colour, so very appropriate to winter, and so becoming to almost every complexion, we fear they will at length weary the eye with their dazzling sameness, and be too common for the bigher classes to patronize much longer. The Comet hats, therefore, are now reckoned most stylish, when made of either celestial blue or white satin, with mantles of the same, and are never adopted but as a carriage costume. High dresses are seldom worn, except on a morning; they are no longer to be seen at any dinner parties, except among the middle classes of society. For dinner and friendly parties, twilled sarsnet, Merino cloth, Merino crape, and gossamer satin are chiefly worn for gowns, made rather higher in the bosom and back than they were last winter, with antique points round the bosom, trimmed either with black velvet, French lace, or swansdown. The round dresses, which are not made in the frock form, button down the sides instead of in the front, as formerly. White dresses serm now to be exploded, except for very young persons, and as it is the garb of innocence, it seems, by its chaste simplicity, to be more suited to their sylph-like forms than any other. We are happy to find that Beauty, now looking to those advantages which she is sure to obtain when she leaves the imagication something to ponder on, covers more assiduously those charms which should never be common to the public eye: over the hallowed and snowy bosom she now, in general, while the Abroat is left bare, spreads the elegant Mechlin lace dress tippet, p-la-Duchesse d'Angouleme; this is worn on the outside of the dress, and is edged by a fine trimming of narrow lace set on full; and we have been informed that some of those little coverings for the busts of our fair countrywomen, are estimated as high as twenty guineas. Lace gowns, both black aud white, and some of white Italian crape, trimmed with a very narrow border of variegated artificial flowers are still worn, with short sleeves; and some few ladies have sported the girdle à larepentie; these are made of very rich cordons of silk, and the tassels are a mixture of silk and mock pearl: they are a very elegant finish to a lady's dress, and we hope to see them more prevalent; though the most general mode at present is a sash ribband of a suitable colour to the dress, tied very forward, with short bows and long ends. The waists are much the same length as they were seen at the Regent's celebrated fete. Little difference has taken place in the maxner of dressing the hair for these six weeks past; those who have good hair affect a redundance of ringlets, which fall à laMedusa, from where the comb fastens up the length of the hair: but we still behold with pleasure the attractive crop, which from its youthful and neat appearance, we must ever admire. A lady of high estimation in fashionable life, but rather eccentric in her dress, appeared at the Theatre, a few evenings ago, with her hair dressed à-la-Minerva; this is by no means a specimen of Gallic elegance, and we know this fashion was first introduced from France. Whatever militates so totally against nature must be revolting; for the basketwork of the helmet in front, cannot possibly be woven out of the native tresses of any one who adopts this whimsical head-dress; we notice it only to shew that nothing novel shall escape us for the amusement as well as instruction of our fair readers. But few caps are worn, except for undress, and then the Downshire mob, of fine Brussels lace, is reckoned the most elegant; it is brought in a point on the forchead and worn very much on one side, with the hair in full ringlets on the side exposed, and a row of pearls, en petits anneaux, on the other. A silk ruby coloured net confining the hair. The Cavaliero hat, of purple velvet, with a large flat ostrich feather in front, or the Pilgrim's hat of carmelite brown, with a brilliant ornament in front, in the form of a cockle-shell, are chaste and becoming fashions to a fine face. In jewellery, a double row of gold Lesben chain, fastened with one very large brilliant, are worn for bracelets amongst the wealthy and those of very high rank. The Nacre de perle, so much in estimation last winter, is again falling into its old uses-the handles of knives, snuff-boxes, and counters; but Fashion's laws are absolute, and the Ceylon ruby which is the smallest and of the least intrinsic worth, is now the favourite; we think, however, that its reign must be short. Our London fashiouables love to preserve the fine rose on their cheek by wholesome exercise, the demi broquin has been therefore laid aside til more mild and arid weather: the half-boot is again adopted for the promenade, and slippers of white satin or kid, for evening parties. The prevailing colours are fann colour, scarlet, and Clarence blue. As the goddess of changeful form presides over every thing which relates to the haut ton we must not forget to mention an essential article-visiting cards; which are now of vellum, edged with a border of gold or silver. A noble pair, recently united, sported on the occasion some of the most elegant kind; the most prominent ornaments were two lovers united by Hymen; at the bottom was Time, chained with a wreath of flowers, by a laughing Cupid; the border was of twisted palm brauches, and the middle was left blank, for the invitation. Among the variety of productions for the convenience and ornament of the Fashionable World, we have the pleasure to observe, in addition to the choice supply of beautiful goods, bath foreign and home manufactured, at the Warehouses of MILLARD in the city, the new Venperu Angola Dresses and Shawls, together with the article of Spanish Dress, forms a part of this rich assemblage. The latter article is of a peculiar texture and adapted to prevent the possibility of accidents by fire. MONTHLY MISCELLANY, INCLUDING VARIETIES, CRITICAL, LITERARY, AND HISTORICAL. PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. COVENT-GARDEN. which are certainly not the characteristics of Kemble's acting. Where majesty, polished and refined greatness, the bursts of a Roman Venice Preserved -The Tragedy of Venice or Grecian hero, are required, Kemble is, Preserved was performed on Friday night, above all others, calculated to exhibit it; but Nov. 8, and, as Mrs. Siddons appeared in where there is any thing which subtracts from Belvidera, and Mr. Kemble in Pierre, the at. the simplicity of the dignity and grandeur, and tention of the town was much excited, and it which renders it mere roughness and strength, may be said, we believe, that their expectation Kemble is not in his element. Cooke would was satisfied. A great deal of nonsense has be a better representative. Pierre is a great been written in some of the daily papers, with character from common life. Kemble cannot respect to the character of this play. There divest himself of the grace and dignity of the is nothing so absurd as that fastidious mo- regal sock. Mrs. Siddons's Belvidera lies unrality which points out obscenities, and more der an error of another kind. Her very feafrequently makes than finds. There is notures are not in consonance with the tenderness thing in Venice Preserved, as it is now acted, and softness which belong to the just concepwhich can injure or disgust any genuine feeltion of Belvidera. Belvidera has all the weakings of modesty. The character of Pierre is in ness, the tenderness, the soft virtue, and simno way suited to Kemble. Its characteristics|ple direct feeling of a good and lovely woman. are a rough dignity and knotted strength, Her address, indeed, is occasionally very tra Mrs. Siddons and Kemble we never fail to discover that ambitious care, and distinguishing mark of true genius, which, not content with copying the bare features of the original before them, like painters, call forth all their skill to give a finishing to the piece, and join to the resemblance which is found in nature, those strokes which enlarge and heighten every ex gic; and sometimes, therefore, rises to elevation, by the mere circumstance of its excess. In all these parts Mrs. Siddons was in her element. Nothing, we imagine, could be finer; but where the language, the sentiment, and the feeling, were merely those of conjugal affection-the amiable terrors of a virtuous wife lest her husband should be impelled, by his distress, into infamy and crime, Mrs. Sid-cellence, and spread a fuller brightness over every beauty. They deck nature with a splendons has here a task not fitted to her; the obligation of being natural and familiar, did dress, aud throw into her train a gay where nature had given her the talents only to assemblage of well fancied circumstances, which give a kind of surprise and novelty to be great and majestic. As Pierre has no elegance, so Belvidera has no other majesty but almost every new character in which we see that of virtue, and no other dignity but that of a great mind, daring to act rightly in circumstances of extreme distress. she had Measure for Measure.--On Wednesday, Oct. 30, the Comedy of Measure for Measure was revived at this Theatre-This is not the time of day to criticise Shakespeare—He has been so often tried, that he has been dismissed from the assay-Measure for Measure is one of those plays in which the genius of Shakespeare is circumscribed by the rules of severe art.— In exactness, it is not inferior to a Greek tragedy; and its unities are so strictly preserved, that it would satisfy the phlegm of a French critic.-In addition to this obedience to dramatic laws, it has all those graces and charms, that strength and nature, which the warmest emulation has not been able to excel. In fine, it abounds with those beaming excellences which strike and captivate the mind, and render irresistible the sentiments of passion, when delivered through the lips of natural agents. Mrs. Siddons was, of course, the Isabella of the play-Every performance of this lady fills us with a degree of melancholy, when we consider that it bastens her to the term of her dramatic life.-A loss of this kind is indeed an eclipse of public pleasure.-Who will not deplore the loss of an actress who has so long adorned and dignified the stage; who has so long been accustomed to fill us with admiration, to melt us into compassion, and subdue us with terror. Mrs. Siddons' performance of Isabella had a solemn dignity, and a natural feeling, which impressed its full force upon every heart. She was admirably Supported by her brother in the Duke. In them. Up to Town-On Monday, Nov. 11, was produced a new Opera, called Up to Town, by Mr. T. Dibdin. It was not successful; we shall therefore not cite the dead to trial, or scatter criticism upon extinguished ashes. We have no pleasure in throwing squibs after a bearse. Our kindness for its author makes us regret the failure of a piece, which is imputable, not to his want of talents, but to the precipitancy of his pen. LYCEUM. The Kiss-On Thursday, Oct. 31, was produced at this Theatre a new Comedy, entitled The Kiss, a name, as applied to this piece, without any meaning. The Prologue announced that this Comedy was after the style of Beaumont and Fletcher, and aimed at that portraiture of manners which, whether founded or not in any just original, has so often pleased us in the ingenious fictions and sober eloquence of those writers. The plot had nothing beyond the ordinary intricacy of a Romance, and though the Dramatis Persons were distinguished by Spanish names and habits, they had nothing national or characteristic in their manners, er in the action assigned to them.The plot, in truth, was nothing more than that of a Spanish Count, jealous without any cause, who locks up his wife, and treats her with great rigour, till at length a combination of circumstances gives a kind of plausibility to his jealousy. With this commences the action of the piece-But as this was not enough for the employment of three hours and a half, a kind of underplot is interwoven, consisting of | Clarissa was such as our imagination and our hopes, rather than our reasonable expectation, had anticipated. She performed it admirably, and sang with all the spirit and feeling of the character. the very ordinary circumstance of an avarici WORKS IN THE PRESS. Mr. Davy is expected to publish the first volume of Elements of the Philosophy of Chemistry, in the course of next month. Lionel and Clarissa.-An Opera has been revived at this Theatre, the success of which is equally honourable to the good foresight of The Managers and the good taste of the town. There are not, indeed, two, more pleasing Operas in our language, than Love in a Village aud Lionel and Clarissa, by Bickerstaff. It was, therefore, with more than usual satisfaction that we attended the representation of the latter, upon its revival. A most absurd but convenient opinion had been established The Rev. Thomas Scott has nearly ready for publication, in two octavo volunres, Remarks on the Confutation of Calvinism, by Dr. Tomline, Bishop of Lincoln. John Wilmot, Esq. will publish early in next month, the life of Bishop Hough, in royal R. Wharton, Esq. M. P. has in the press, in a quarto volume, Roncesvalles, a Poem in twelve books The Rev. G. F. Nott is printing the Poems of Henry Howard Earl of Surrey, of Sir Thomas Wyatt, the elder, and of uncertain Authors, who flourished in the reign of Heary the Eighth accompanied with Notes, critical historical, and biographical. Mr. Thomas, of Wareliam, is preparing for the press a History of King Solomon; in continuation of his View of the Heathen Worship. Dr. Watkins has in the press the Family by Author and Managers, and had even passed Instructor, a new work in three duodecimo volumes. into the sufferance of the town-It was maintained, truly, that good dialogue, a good plot, and good music, were incompatible in an THE LATE LORD LYTTELTON.-Whilst Opera; that they impeded and ruined the The World was in being, the house in which effect of each other; that the songs and music Mr. Topham and I resided, in Beaufort-build. interrupted the progressive movement of the ings, was the constant resort of men of liteplot; and, either rendered the songs an inrary character; and, among the number, we cumbrance, as breaking in upon the progress bad the pleasure of reckoning Miles Peter of the story, or destroyed the story, by renderAndrews, Esq. who had been the friend of Mr. ing such interruptions unnatural-Lionel and Topham from his youth. I should not have Clarissa, and Love in a Village, are the best introduced his name in these pages, it being answers to this imagined impossibility. The somewhat extraneous to my subject, but to former is a fine manly play, aud might stand mention a circumstance that I heard from himon its legs, and shew a very good port, with self; which, as I ever knew him to be a man out the aid of fiddles and flagelets. The cha of veracity and strict houonr, I have every racters are drawn with the hand of one who reason to believe true; and as it explains some had natural originals in his eye, and who had circumstances respecting the death of the late genius and taste to seize what was humorous, Lord Lyttelton (Mr. Andrews's intimate comand separate it from what was minute and in-panion for several years), never before made ignificant. Mrs. Dickons' performance of known to the public, it may not be uninterest ing to my readers. A few nights previous to Lord Lyttelton's demise (as mentioned in his biography attached to his Poems), soon after he had got into bed he saw a female at the foot of it, with a dove in her hand, and beautifully arrayed in white, who told him, in a very impressive manner, to prepare himself for death, as the third night from that, exactly at twelve o'clock, he should depart this life! His Lordship, who had ever led a very gay one, conceiving that it was some female who had got juto the room, and had said so merely to jest with him, jumped out of bed; but to his astonishment, found the door fast, and no person in the room but his valet, who was fast asleep in a recess, where he always lay. Greatly alarmed at the circumstance, it made a deep impression upon him, and he determined to put off a visit he was to have paid Mr. Andrews that very week; and the night which the spectre prescribed as his last, was the very one he was expected to sleep at Dartford. On the fatal evening his Lordship had several of his friends about him, who amused themselves with looking at the family pictures till the hour of twelve o'clock ar rived. As some of them regarded it a phantom of his Lordship's brain, they privately put the clock forward a few minutes. As soon as i struck, he turned round to all who were about him, and said, "You see I have cheated the ghost"-Upon which he went up to bed, and his valet brought him some trifling medicine to take, but had forgotten a spoon to stir it ; he sent him down for one; and on his return, found him actually a corps on the bed! He looked at his Lordship's fine stopwatch, and found the hands exactly at the stroke of twelve o'clock. Mr. Andrews finding that his Lordship did not come down on the day he promised, which was the very one on which he died, could not imagine the reason of it, and had retired to rest somewhat before twelve. He had not been long lying down when the curtains at the foot of the bed were drawn open, and he saw his Lordship standing before him, in a large figured morning-gown which always remained in the house for his Lordship's sole use, Mr. Andrews conceiving that his Lordship had arrived after he had retired, as he so positively No. XXV. Vol. IV.-N. S. expected him on that day, said to him, "My Lord, you are at some of your tricks; go to your bed, or I will throw something at you.The answer he returned was-"It is all over with me, Andrews!"-and instantly disappeared. As there was a large clothes press at the foot of the bed, he conceived his Lordship had got into it, and rose to see; but he did not find him there. He next examined the night-bolt on the door, and found it fast; and he saw by the candle he had not been long in bed, or he might otherwise have conceived it a dream. He rung his bell, and inquired of his servants where Lord Lyttleton was? they said they had not seen him. The night-gown was next sought for, and found in its usual place. Mr. Andrews knew not of his Lordship's death till nounced it fo have taken placed exactly at next day, when letters from London alltwelve o'clock the night before. As must naturally be supposed, the circumstance and the loss of his friend made a very great impres sion upon Mr. Andrews, and affected him for some months after, as he is positive to his being awake at the time it happened, and of the appearance of the phantom. Upon taking an impartial view of the business :-The cir com tances connected with Lord Lyttelten's death are on record, well authenticated by people of honour, veracity, and high rank, and that he died at the exact hour of twelve, is beyond a doubt. With respect to Mr. Andrews, he is a man of a strong mind, stored with the most elegant accomplishments which literature, a refined education, and a good understanding could give it; his character as a man of honour and truth has never been im. peached; while his ample fortune has placed him above the petty cavils or petty necessi ties of chequered life; therefore, under such. circumstances, we can have no reason to suspect Mr. Andrews of telling any thing but what he really saw. But this I solemnly protest; he mentioned the occurrence to me at his own table, in his own house, and in the presence of Mr. Topham. Whether Lord Lyttelton's death is to be attributed to a divine source or not, I cannot pretend to determine ; but many people suppose, as he was found with his watch in his hand after his death, and by it, it was exactly twelve, the idea of the M m |