phrase; and, according to Juvenal, the husband
was rarely permitted to see any other. Indeed,
it was the point of one of Martial's epigrams
that a Roman lady of rank did not sleep with
the same face which she exhibited to her admirers
when awake. Some of the ancient nations were
in the habit of pounding cedar and cypress with
aromatic balsams and gums, and then spreading
an infusion of the compound over the face, in
order to smooth and beautify, as well as perfume
the features on which it was laid. The Grecian
ladies of old revived the vermilion of their lips
by a pigment which was said to be extremely
beautiful; and we are told that modern Greek
belles imitate their ancient statues by gilding
their features on their wedding-days, a practice
which they fancy confers irresistible charms.

Few articles produced by modern skill for the
refinement of the complexion are more sought
for than emulsions and milks, which are
generally produced from nuts, and the milky
appearance is due to the diffusion of their
oil through the water. In the milk of roses,
oil of almonds and otto of roses are the chief
ingredients, and, applied to the most delicate
skin, it is as grateful and as harmless as an
April shower or the verdure of spring. Toilet
rouges were long in vogue, but they have now
been in a great measure superseded by
carmine, a preparation of cochineal, which forms
a beautiful pigment in every respect superior.
Cochineal is procured from the female of an
insect, and is brought principally from Mexico
and Brazil, where it feeds upon, and derives its
colour from the leaves of the Nopal plant after
its fruit has ripened. The French carmine is
said to owe its superiority to the same cause
which renders the flowers of France so much
richer in perfume than those of our colder and
more cloudy climate,—the influence of light on
its formation and precipitation resulting from
the clearer and more sunny sky of the south.
The colouring matter of cochineal, when spread
on thick paper and dried very gradually, assumes
a beautiful green tint, which, being moistened
with damp cotton wool, and, applied to the lips
or cheeks, produces a roseate hue. The theatre
rouges are prepared from Brazil-wood lake, and
from the safflower, which grows wild in some
Eastern countries; the flowerets being of an
orange colour, becoming red when dried. They
contain a colouring matter known as carthamite,
from which delicate rose-colours and rich scarlet
are produced, and from this also the pink saucers
are prepared. Cotton wool and crape similarly
coloured are used for the same purpose, the
former under the name of Spanish wool, the
latter as crépon rouge. The sympathetic blush
is produced from a chemical substance called
alloxan, which was discovered by Liebig, and is
in itself colourless. By exposure to the air it
becomes oxydised, and, gradually turning to a
deep rose-colour, stains the skin pink, and creates
the most beautiful tint as yet introduced into
the toilet of fashion. Alloxan is an animal
product, and it is not, perhaps, expedient for the
delicate beauty who is embellished by it to
inquire too minutely into its source. Few
fainting belles are, perhaps, aware that the
most reviving smelling-salts are produced from
most offensive substances. The chemical name
is ammonia, originally derived from the temple
of Jupiter Ammon in Lybia, where it was first
made; but it is now produced in England from
bones and from coal-tar, the refuse of gas-works.
The expression of Hamlet,

            To what base uses we may return!

is here reversed, for the vilest garbage supplies
to the gold, silver, and crystal cases of fashion
an exquisite and reviving perfume. Ladies of
high pretensions have been in the habit of
obtaining a most delicate tint for the complexion
by steeping the finest pale pink satin ribbon in
the best eau-de-Cologne, and applying it to the
cheeks. The most innocent and approved
preserver of the skin is impalpable rice powder—
poudre de riz—used after rubbing the face over
with cold cream, which is itself commonly made
with almond oil and equal proportions of the
purest wax and spermaceti, perfumed according
to fancy.

There is a strong sympathy between the
functions of the skin and the vital organs, and the
true mode to improve the complexion is to
preserve and improve the health. Perfumes, from
their cheering and exhilarating influence on the
nerves and the mind, are invariably used in all
the artificial preparations which have been
devised to beautify the face. The volatile,
invisible, and evanescent particles of fragrant and
odoriferous substances so agreeable to our sense
of smell, are so minute that it is said a single
small portion of musk has been known to emit
in one day fifty-seven millions of atoms within a
radius of thirty yards, filling the entire room
without any sensible diminution of its weight.
The expression "I do not like musk," has become
fashionable, but musk was once a very favourite
perfume; and notwithstanding the remonstrances
of Napoleon, the Empress Josephine was so fond
of it, that although forty years have elapsed since
her death, modern authors assure us that the
present proprietor of her favourite residence,
Malmaison, with all his efforts, has not been
able to remove the scent from the rooms.
Odorous ointments, preserved in bottles made
of alabaster, onyx, and glass, are constantly
found in the tombs of the ancient Egyptians,
and we are informed that one of these now at
Alnwick Castle contains a perfumed substance,
which, after more than three thousand years,
still retains its scent. Moore poetically alludes
to this singular retentive principle:

   Like the vase in which roses have once been
       distilled,
   You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you
       will,
   But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Flowers as they go out of bloom still retain
their odour, a property which did not escape
Shakespeare:

     Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.

As many of our fair readers may have flowers