I hear the popping of hooks, and bursting of buttons, as "bodies," after undue pressure, fly off at a tangent, and gape widely when they should close; while petticoats, that ought modestly to touch the ground, display ankles that refuse to blush unseen———
The woes of one girl in particular might draw tears from a stone. Poor Emma's existence is one long struggle to get into her frocks; for Providence, who ever loves to serve mankind nasty tricks, has predisposed her to fat, with an ever-increasing solidity that sets dressmakers at defiance. Not that this fact in itself calls for pity; for are not the fat ones of the earth the happiest, the cheerfullest, the best-tempered people living? The sting of it lies in this, that Emma has a stepmother who objects to new dresses on principle, and will allow no more than a certain number a year, and has decreed that when she has had those let out to their extremest limits, if they will not accommodate themselves to her form, then her form must be brought down to the size of her gown. So, when poor Emma shows signs of over-growing she is put on Banting, and made to eat the things that she hates and leave untouched those that she loves, and, over and above, to skip for an hour before breakfast every morning. The latter in hot weather is trying, but, nevertheless, she works her stepmother's will; and though her life is a burden to her, by degrees her fat diminishes, and she comes down to the size of her garments. If this is not a practical example of the triumph of mind over matter then where shall one be found? Just now she is in the increasing stage, and efforts that would not disgrace a blacksmith are being made to "fasten" her low blue and white silk frock; but, alas! until Emma has returned to Banting the glories of that frock are not for her.
Consultations, serious and profound as those held with a court dressmaker over a London beauty's first Drawing-room, are going on in all directions; barèges, grenadines, and muslins being the
