HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL

Evening Star, Issue 19745, 21 December 1927, Page 14

HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL

NO POWR NECESSARY In the quest for beauty lipstick and powdar-putf have no place. That is the belief of the recently-elected Moderator of the Presbyterian General Assembly, the Right Rev. James Aitken, of Gisborne, who gave the girls of St. Cuthbert’s College, at their break-up ceremony, an entirety different prescription. “I want to give you two bits of advice,” he said. “Be useful and be beautiful. I don’t want you to think you can be beautiful this summer, and I don’t want you to imagine you are beautiful to-day. I see in front of me some very happy faces and some very bonny faces, but 1 cannot see any beautiful faces. Why? Just because you have not yet had time to make yourself beautiful. It takes just about fifty years to make a beautiful thing—yes, and some of you good people have a chance yot,” added Mr Aitken, smilingly turning in answer to laughter of mock incredulity from the parents’ section of the gathering. “And how do you become beautiful?” asked the speaker in turning again to bis young audience. “ Not with powclet' and not with lipstick. They never made anyone beautiful. If you are wise you will not do what your big sisters do when mother is not looking. Yon don’t make yourself beautiful from the outside, but from the inside. You make yourself beautiful by being kind and good and useful to the people about you. Then, when you are fifty I don’t care what sort of features you have, but if you have been kind and good you will be bcautiful” The hearty clapping that marked the conclusion of Mr Aitkcn|s address showed that it is still possible to win feminine approbation without the paying of compliments. However, at the opening of the fine, new swimming bath later in the afternoon, Mr Aitken took the precaution to cast a few complimentary crumbs upon the waters. Incidentally, he commented that the bathing dresses, and, indeed, the everyday dresses, now worn by girls seemed to be much more sensible than in earlier days. “They couldn’t possibly swim in the bathing dresses they used to wear,” he said, “ but in the present costumes they can swim like the ducks they are.” A practical demonstration of the latter remark was quickly forthcoming. Mr Aitken had just declared the bath to be officially opened when a whistle was blown, a dozen girls took a simultaneous “header” into the pool, and in a few speedy turns up and down the bath left no doubt as to the swimming ability of the modern maiden.