"Yes, Ma'am, I'm goin'. I won't poke myself up in the country. Folks as I lives with allus goes to Newport in September." Furnished by Mr. G. BRODIE, 51 Canal Street, New York, and drawn by VOIGT from actual articles of Costume. FIGURES 1, 2, AND 3.-PROMENADE DRESS AND CHILDREN'S COSTUMES. "WH for cloaks?" is the most usual question addressed at this season to our modistes. By way of answer, we present delineations of two, of different styles, which can not fail to be favorites. In Figure 1 the cloak is of stone-colored ladies' cloth, elegantly embroidered; the cape is cross-laced, and furnished with tassels, and ends in tabs, cut pointed at the bottom. The shape behind is similar, the points forming very nearly a right angle. The Bonnet is of buff reps, with black velvet tabs, and is trimmed with blonde and fern leaves. The dress is of Lyons taffeta, with very full under-sleeves, closed at the wrist, with revers. Figure 4 represents a cloak of moire and velvet, with buttons of the same materials, of a style entirely new. The centre is of one material, with a wide border of the other. The drops are made to match. Buttons of this and other styles will be much used as trimmings; as will fringes also. Cloth may be very properly used for the material of such a cloak. FIGURE 4.-MOIRE AND VELVET CLOAK. A very pleasing traveling cloak, which space will not allow us to illustrate, is composed of gray cloth, having a drawn hood, adorned with a naud and with streamers at the back. The skirt falls full, without plaits; is very long, and somewhat deeper behind than before. The sleeves fit easily at the top, but become wide and flowing, so that they reach the bottom of the skirt when the arms are crossed. The INFANT'S DRESS is of merino, of robin's-egg color, with ruches, and bows of taffeta. The GIRL'S DRESS consists of a basque of black silk. The body is high, with bretelles, ornamented with a tie and floats of black velvet. The sleeves and basque are apparently slit open from the indentures of the Vandyke; this appearance is confirmed by the black velvet buttons placed there. The undersleeves are puffed; the skirt of glacé, striped violet and green, with two flounces. When the hair will not curl, a style of arrangement very becoming to some faces is to bring it over the ears with a round roll, without forming it into a knot, covering it with a black velvet bow, with loops and loose ends. The CAP forms a bouillonnée of illusion tulle, lozenge shaped, inclosing a crown of the same, upon which is a plait of black velvet and rose or straw colored ribbons. Through the bouillon is drawn a transparent of satin ribbon, forming a bow upon the opposite side where the ends emerge. Strings of the same. Frills of black and white lace, with tabs of black lace behind, and an ornament of gauze leaves and pensile straw flowers, complete the ornaments of the head-dress. NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. LXXVIII.-NOVEMBER, 1856.-VOL. XIII. THE MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. | rine, in intensity of unavailing exasperation, BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT. [ISTORY is our heaven-appointed instructor. The past is the guide for the future. The calamities of yesterday are the protectors of today. The sea of time we navigate is full of perils. But it is not an unknown sea. It has been traversed for ages; and there is not a sunken rock or a treacherous sand-bar which is not marked by the wreck of those who have preceded us. There is no portion of history fraught with more valuable instruction than the period of those terrible religious wars which embellished, and, at the same time, desolated the sixteenth century. Man never appeared more god-like, never more demoniac than then. The most exalted virtue, the most ignoble crime then culminated. There is no romance so wild as the veritable history of these times. The majestic outgoings of the Almighty, as developed in the onward progress of our race, infinitely transcends, in all the elements of profoundness, mystery, and grandeur, aught that man's fancy can create. The pencil of the artist can spread beauty upon the canvas; but what are its creations when compared with the heaving ocean, the gorgeous clouds of sunset, and the thunder-riven crags of the Alps-with glacier, and forest, and heaven-piercing pinnacle. The dome of St. Peter's is man's noblest architecture; but what is it when compared with the majestic rotunda of the skies. retired with her son to the northern slope of her mountainous domain, which looked down upon France. She endeavored to inspire her son, even in his infancy, with resolution to strain every nerve, when he should become a man, to regain the dismembered portion of their kingdom. Catharine died, and Henry, attaining manhood, married the sister of the King of France, hoping thus to gain an ally for the recovery of his lost territory. His hopes were not realized. One child was born to them, Jeanne d'Albret. As years developed her mind and heart, she became one of those rare women who combine every thing which is lovely and fascinating in female attractions with every thing that is grand and magnanimous in nobility of character. Jeanne, while still a child, was married to Anthony of Bourbon, a near relative of the King of France. She accompanied her husband to Paris. Henry, her father, hoped that from this union an avenger might arise. Twice the now gray-haired monarch took a grandson in his arms, and twice he saw his hopes consigned to the tomb. World-weary and joyless the aged grandfather still clung to this one great hope of his life. The tidings that Jeanne was again to become a mother kindled the lustre of his fading eye. He sent imperatively to his daughter to return to the paternal castle, that the child might be born in the kingdom of Navarre. It was midwinter; the journey long and rough; still Jeanne promptly obeyed. About four hundred years ago there was a Henry impatiently awaited the advent of small kingdom spread over the cliffs and the the long-looked-for avenger. With superstition ravines of the Eastern Pyrenees, called Navarre. characteristic of the times, he extorted from his Its half million of inhabitants caught fish in daughter a promise that, in the most painful the coves which jutted in from the Bay of Biscay, moment of her trial, she would sing an exultant or trimmed vines upon sunny slopes of the song, that her son might be spirited and sanmountains, an independent, frugal, happy peo-guine—a promise which the heroic mother fulple. Catharine de Foix was Queen of this realm. She was a widow, and all her hopes were centered in Henry, her son and heir, then a child of seven years. Ferdinand of Aragon about this time married Isabella of Castile, and, seized with the mania for annexation-a mania which has not yet died out among the nations-sent an army into these sunny valleys, and wrested from Catharine one half of her dominions. Catha filled. The aged King received the child, at the moment of its birth, into his arms. Enveloping the infant in soft folds, regardless of a mother's claims he bore it triumphantly to his own apartment. He rubbed the lips of the plump babe with garlic, and taking a golden goblet of generous wine, the rough and royal nurse forced the beverage he loved so well down the untainted throat of his new-born heir. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by Harper and Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the Dis trict Court for the Southern District of New York. VOL. XIII.-No. 78.-Z z "A little good old wine," said the doting grandfather, "will make the boy vigorous and brave." We may remark in passing that it was wine, rich and pure, which had gushed from the blushing grapes of Navarre-not that mixture of all abominations, whose only vintage is in cellars sunless, damp, and fetid, where guilty men fabricate poison for a nation. The little stranger received the ancestral name of Henry. He subsequently filled the world with his renown. He became Henry IV. of France, the first of the Bourbon line, and by far the most illustrious of all the ancient kings of France. To the story of his varied fortunes, and of his wild and wondrous career, we devote the few following pages. recalled from his mountain home to the palace, where a two years' residence invested him with those courtly graces which ever distinguished him. Mary Stuart, a beautiful girl of fifteen, afterward the unhappy Queen of Scots, was to be married to Francis Valois, a pale, effeminate boy of sixteen, son of the King of France. Henry, then eight years of age, accompanied his parents to Paris to attend the nuptials. His vigorous beauty, vivacity, and energy attracted the attention of the King. "Will you be my son ?" said the King, as he drew him to his lap. "No, Sire, no!" Henry replied, "that is my father," pointing to Anthony of Bourbon. "Well then, will you be my son-in-law ?" "Oh yes, most willingly," Henry replied. The King had a daughter, Marguerite, six years of age, two years younger than Henry, and it was immediately decided that they should be betrothed. Henry soon returned to Navarre, and, under judicious tutors, prosecuted his studies with great vigor. Henry of Navarre was born three hundred years ago, in 1553. The King, his grandfather, assumed his entire control. He possessed among the Pyrenees an old castle, craggy as the eternal granite which frowned around it. Gloomy firs clung to the hill sides, and eagles screamed over them in their lonely flight. A foaming torrent, impetuous from the mountains, swept by the walls. To this storm-battered castle of Curasse, At the close of the sixteenth century, the lowering in congenial gloom among the rocks, period of which we write, all Europe was agitatHenry was sent to be nurtured in frugality and ed by the great controversy between the Cathohardship, like a peasant boy. He was destined lics and the Protestants. The writings of the to great achievements, and the King resolved Reformers had aroused the attention of the that no delicacies or luxuries should enfeeble whole Christian world. England and parts of his frame. A companion of the sturdy mount-Germany had adopted the Protestant faith. In aineers around him, he rolled upon the grass, waded the torrents, climbed the cliffs, and played with the dogs. His hair was bleached and his cheeks bronzed by sun and wind. When Henry was six years of age his grandfather sank sorrowingly into the grave, and his mother became Queen of Navarre. Henry was France the Protestants, though few in numbers, were powerful in rank, intelligence, and determination. The Catholics were resolved that they would crush out Protestantism by every available energy of persecution. The Protestants, who, for some unknown reason, were there called Huguenots, were determined that they |