with long branches of shrubs, or flowers, which depend from the summit of the crown, in the style of feathers; for this, the flower called fox-glove is much admired, and a wreath of the wild-rose falls gracefully over a carriage-hat of white crape; it surrounds the crown, and then tastefully is brought to the edge of the brim. Double scarlet poppies, and branches of red flowers, are favourite ornaments on Leghorn hats. For the public walks and evening spectacles, such as Tivoli, nothing is reckoned more elegant than a transparent hat of crape, ornamented with rose-colored feathers. Some bonnets, made of corded gros de Naples, have narrow blond set on strait at the edge of the brim. White chip bats are generally ornamented with gilliflowers, in long branches, or with marshmallow-blossoms The new pelisses, both silk and muslin, are trimmed round, the former en ruches, the latter with frill trimming, in clear muslin. The pelerines are trimmed in the same manner; but the muslin pelerines have an edging of lace added to the trimming. Cloaks have appeared already, but they are of slight materials, such as taffaty, or levantine. Scarfs, both of silk and muslin, are favorite accessories to out-door costume. Clear muslin canezon Spencers are still worn at the promenade, with colored petticoats of gros de Naples; indeed, there is nothing novel in the state of dress since last month, either for walking or for the carriage. Full-blown Provence roses are very favorite flowers on the hair of young persons. The Apollo-knot on the back and summit of the head, is formed of a plat wound twice round; two puffs of hair surmount this ornament, above which are often placed pomegranite-blossoms and poppies. Young married ladies at rural balls, when they wish to distinguish themselves from more youthful females who are single, wear dress hats, with two long white feathers; these, continually agitated by the dance, stand up towards the crown, where they often turn back. Hair arranged in bandeaux, a la Madonna, is now very much in vogue; and the hinder tresses are fastened up with a tortoise-shell comb, with a very high gallery. The most admired colors are blue, rose-color, Indian-green, cherry-color, emerald green, and yellow. DVOR CAWOOD CASTLE. Cawood is a small market town, five miles from Selby, and ten miles from York: it was formerly one of the chief places of residence of the Archbishop of York, who had here a magnificent palace. William de Greenfield, the forty-first archbishop, died here in 1315, as did his successor, William de Melton, in 1340. Alexander Nevil, forty-fifth archbishop, bestowed great expense on this palace, or castle, and added several new towers. Henry Bowet, the forty-ninth archbishop, built the great hall, and died there in 1423. John Kemp, cardinal, lord high chancellor of England, and the L. 29. 2. fiftieth archbishop of York, erected the gate-house, which he adorned with his arms. It long continued to be the occasional residence of his successors; and Thomas de Rotherham, fifty-fourth archbishop, died here of the plague, in 1500. Cardinal Wolsey, although he never went to York, resided a whole summer and part of the winter at his palace of Cawood; where he was arrested on a charge of high treason, by the Earl of Northumberland, who had orders to conduct him to London for trial; but the death of the cardinal, at Leicester, terminated the business. Tobias Mathews, the sixty-sixth, and George Monteign, the sixty-seventh archbishop, both died at Cawood, in 1628. The latter was a native of this place; and it is remarked, as an extraordinary case, that he should go a poor boy from that town, being only a farmer's son, and return to it Archbishop of York. But, as Fuller quaintly observes, he was no sooner warm in his archiepiscopal chair, than he was cold in his coffin: in five months after his enthronization, he expired at the place where he drew his first breath. At the end of the civil war, in the reign of Charles I., the castle of Cawood was included among the number of those that were dismantled, and partly demolished, by the order of the parliament. Since that time it has been abandoned by the prelates of York, and has continued in a state of gradual delapidation. Of this once-magnificent palace nothing is now left, except the ruins of the great gateway, and some other fragments, which the corroding tooth of time will probably soon annihilate. THE MAID THAT I LOVE. A SONG. BY WILLIAM L***. When far from the land of my own happy home, How sweet to reflect, while through dangers I rove, My pilgrimage ended, when home I return, ROMEO AND JULIET. Every stranger who goes to Verona is sure to have his sympathy moved, and his curiosity excited, by what is called "The Tomb of Juliet ;" and there is no man who has read Shakspeare that will not hasten to the spot where it lies, regardless, at the moment, whether it be real or not. It is well known that this part of Italy had furnished to our immortal bard the materials of a tragedy, which, for all the pathetic details of hapless love and devoted constancy, stands unrivalled in any language. And though much of legendary exaggeration is superadded to the circumstances of the catastrophe, yet the main fact is attested by the local history of Verona; and therefore the mind is disposed to admit the probability that the excavated oblong stone, which is now pointed out in the neglected ruins of an old Franciscan monastary, might have once contained the beauteous form of the unhappy Juliet. Count Persico, one of the native nobility, who has published a very interesting work on the curiosities of Verona, and of the provinces adjacent, thus relates the melancholy story of Romeo and Juliet: "In the year 1303, or about that time, Bartholomew della Scala, being captain of the Veronese, Romeo de Monticoli was enamoured of Juliet de Cappelletti, and she of him, their families being at the time in bitter enmity with each other on account of party feuds. As therefore they could not be openly married, a private union took place between them. Shortly afterwards, Romeo, having in an affray of the two factions killed Tebaldo, the cousin of Juliet, was obliged to seek for safety in flight, and pro ceeded to Mantua. His unhappy spouse, afflicted beyond measure, sought commiseration and counsel from the intermediate agent of her secret marriage, seeing that there was no longer any hope of a reconciliation between families now still more incensed against each other than before. Therefore, by a preconcerted arrangement, Juliet procured a sleeping draught, and shortly after, according to common report, yielded up her life. Romeo having been apprised of the dire news, before he heard that she was only apparently dead, resolved, in the bitterness of his anguish, to take poison, and die likewise. Previously to his doing so, however, not entirely despairing of her life, he went to Verona, and availed himself of the evening hour to enter the monastery. Being here assured that his Juliet had been interred not long before, he swallowed some poison he had with him, and hastened to the tomb, where their mutual friend pointed out the way by a passage beyond that which was ready for his return. The friar wondered very much what had happened to Romeo, unconscious of the hard fate that awaited him. While he endeavoured to assure him that the lady was not in reality dead, the poison began to operate, and now on the very verge of death he called on his Juliet with a faint voice. She awoke, and scarcely recognised him. Romeo expired, and Juliet breathed for a moment only to share his hapless doom." FEMALE TENDERNESS. It was during a late severe season, a winter remarkable for its long and inclement frost, experienced with equal rigour throughout Italy, France, and Germany, where the largest rivers were rapidly congealed, and people were seen to fall dead with cold, that in the French town of Metz, a poor sentinel was sent upon guard on one of the bitterest nights, when a fierce north wind added to the usual cold. His watch was in the most exposed situation of the place, and he had scarcely recovered from severe indisposition; but he was a soldier, and declared his readiness to take his round. It chanced that he had pledged his affections to a young woman of the same city, who no sooner heard of his being on duty, than she began to lament bitterly, declaring it to be impossible for him to survive the insufferable severity of such a night, after the illness under which he still lingered. Tormented with anxiety, she was unable to close her eyes, or even to retire to rest; and as the night advanced, the cold becoming more intense, her fancy depicted him struggling against the fearful elements, and his own weakness; and at length, no longer able to support himself, overpowered with slumber, and sinking to eternal rest upon the ground. Maddened at the idea, and heedless of consequences, she hastily clothed herself as warmly as she could, ran out of the house, situated not far from the place of watch, and, with the utmost courage, arrived alone at the spot; and there she indeed found her poor soldier nearly as exhausted as she had imagined, being with difficulty able to keep his feet, owing to the intenseness of the frost. She earnestly conjured him to hasten, though only for a little while, to revive him |