And in the twilight dimness, in silence and alone,
  The soul is almost startled by the power of its solemn tone. 
  When we view the fairest works of Nature and of Art,
  They ever fill with longings, never satisfy, the heart;
  But, like the lines of weed and shells that stretch along the beach,
  And show how far the flowing tide and the high waters reach,
  They seem like barriers to hold back, like weedy lines, to show
  How far into this busy world the waves of beauty flow. 
  Yet when sweet strains of music rise about us, float, and play,
  We almost dream these barriers of sense are broken away,
  And that the beauty bound before is floating round us, free
  As the bright, glancing waters of the ever-playing sea. 
  And for a little moment, the spirit seems to stand
  With naked, wave-washed feet almost upon the strand. 
  But when she stoops to reach the wave, the waters glide away,
  And whisper in an unknown tongue,—­she hears not what they say.

FASHION.

Why is it that the introduction of a really graceful fashion is generally met with ridicule and opposition, while ugly modes are adopted with grave acquiescence and reverent submission?

“Seest thou not what a deformed thief this Fashion is?” “I know that Deformed; he goes up and down like a gentleman.”  Yes, we all know Deformed.  When any of his family come to us, from England or France or any foreign country, we recognize the hideous brotherhood, and extend our welcoming hands; but Graceful must stay with us a long time to be greeted kindly, and her sisters from foreign parts are coldly looked upon, or dismissed at once.

To begin at the top,—­“the very head and front of the offending.”  A gentleman goes into a fashionable hatter’s, and the shopman, holding up for admiration a hat with a crown a foot high, of the genuine stove-pipe form, and a brim an inch wide, says, “This is the newest style, Sir.”  The gentleman walks home with the ugly thing on his head, but no one stares or laughs.  ’Tis a new fashion, but all “take it easy.”  A year later, perhaps, the hatter shows him a thing with a brim a half an inch wider, but rolled up at the sides, and a crown of a much greater diameter at the top than where it joins the brim,—­a specimen of the bell-crown.  This is solemnly donned, and the wearer has the pleasure of knowing that the head-gear of all his friends is as hideous as his own.  The inverted cone is worn with a sweet, Malvolio smile.  And so “Deformed” has ruled the head of man for as many years as any of us can number, only ringing the changes, from one year to another, upon the three degrees of comparison of the word ugly.