Mark Twain and the Ladies.

Otago Witness, Issue 1650, 7 July 1883, Page 28

Mark Twain and the Ladies.

" The ladies, bless them," was the toast assigned to Mark Twain. The toast, he said, includes the sex universally ; it is to woman comprehensively, wheresoever she may be found. Let us consider her ways. First comes the matter of dress. That is a most important consideration in a subject of this nature, and must be disposed of before we can intelligently proceed to examine the profounder depths of the theme. For text let us take the dress of two antipodal types— the savage woman of Central Africa and the cultivated daughter of our high modern civilisation. Among the Fans, a great negro tribe, a woman, when dressed for home,- or to go to market, or out calling, does not wear anything at all but just her complexion — that is all ; that is her entire outfit. It is the lightest costume in the world, but it is made of the darkest material. It has often been mistaken for mourning. It is the trimmest and neatest and gracefullest costume that is now in fashion. It wears well, is fast colours, does not show dirt. You don't have to send it down town to wash, and have some of it come back scorched with the flat-iron, and some of it with the buttons ironed off, and some of it petrified with starch, and some of it chewed by the calf, and some of it changed for other customers' things that haven't any virtue but holiness, and ten twelfths of the pieces overcharged for, and the rest of the dozen "mislaid." And it always fits. And it is the handiest dress in the whole realm of fashion. And it is always ready, done up. When you call on a Fan lady and send up your card, the hired girl never says " Please take a seat ; madam is dressing. She will be down in three-quarters of an hour." No, madam is always ready dressed — always ready to receive ; and before you can get the doormat before your eyes she is in your midst. Then, again, the Fan ladies don't go to church to see what each other has got on, and they don't go back home and describe it and slander it. Such is the child of savagery as to everyday toilet, and thus, curiously enough, she finds a point of contact with the fair daughter of civilisation and high position who often has " nothing to wear," and thus these widelyseparated types of the sex meet upon common ground. Yes, such is the Fan woman as she appears in her simple unostentatious everyday toilet. But on state occasions Bhe is '.more dressy. At a banquet she wears bracelets, at a lecture she wears earrings and a belt \ at a ball she wears stockings, and with the, true feminine fondness for display, she wears Jthem on her arms ; at a funeral she wears a jacket of tar and ashes ; at a wedding, the bride who can afford it puts on pantaloons. Thus the dark child of savagery and the fair daughter of civilisation meet once more upon common ground, and these two touches of nature make their whole world kin. Now we will consider the dress of our other type. A large part of the daughter of civilisation is her dress— as it should be. Some civilised women would lose half their charm without dress, and some would lose all of it. The daughter of modern civilisation dressed at her utmost best is a marvel of exquisite and beautiful art and — expense. All the lands, and all the climes, and all the arts are laid under tribute to furnish her forth. Her linen is from Belfast, her robe is from Paris, her lace is from Venice or France, or Spain, her feathers are from the remote regions of Southern Africa, her furs from the remoter home of the iceberg and the aurora, her fan from Japan, her diamonds from Brazil, her bracelets from California, her pearls,' from Ceylon, her cameos from Rome. She has gems and trinkets from buried Pompeii and otheis that graced comely Egyptian forms that have been dust and ashes now for 40 centuries, her watch is from Geneva, her cardcase is from China, her hair (lengthy) is from — from — 1 don't know where her hair is from ; I never could find out that. That is her other; hair, her public hair, and Sunday hair ; I .don't mean the hair she goes to bed with, y/by, you ought to know the hair I mean ; it's that thing which she calls a switch, and which resembles a switch as much as it does a brickbat, or a shotgun, or any other thing which you correct people with. It's that thing which she twists and then coils round and round her head, bee- hive fashion, and then tucks thia end in under the hive, and harpoons it with a hair|)in. And that reminds me of a trifle :— Any time you want to you can glance around the carpet of a Pullman car, and go and pick' up a hairpin, but not to save your life can you got any woman in that car to acknowledge that hairpin. Now, isn't that strange ? But it's true. The woman who has never swerved from cast-iron morality and fidelity in ' her whole life will, when confronted with -this crucial test, deny her hairpin. She will! deny that hairpin before a hundred witnesses. I have stupidly got into more trouble and more hot water trying to hunt up the owner of a hairpin in a Pullman car than by any other indiscretion of my life. Well, you see what the daughter ot civilisation is when she is dressed, and you, have seen what a daughter of savagery is when she is not. Such is woman as to costume I come now to consider her in her higher and nobler aspects— as mother, ,wife, widow — grass-widow, mother in-law, 'hired girl, telegraph operator, telephone hallooer, queen, book-agent, wet-nurse, step-mother, boss, professional double-headed woman, 1 professional beauty, and so forth and so on. We will simply discuss these few — let the rest of the sex tarry in Jericho till we come again. First on the list of right, and first on our list, comes a woman who— why, dear me, I've been talking three-quarters of an hour,' I beg a thousand pardons. But you see yourselves that I have a large contract. I have accomplished something, anyway. I have introduced my subject, and if I had till next Forefather's Day I am satisfied that I could discuss it as adequately and appreciatively as a glorious and noble theme deserves. But, as the matter stands now, let us finish as we began, and say, without jesting, but with all sincerity, " Woman—the ladies, bless them !"