LADIES’ GOSSIP.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CI, Issue 11885, 8 May 1899, Page 2

LADIES’ GOSSIP.

, , (“Canterbury Times/’) • The sculptor’s art promises to be superseded by the discovery of. Professor Ellisio Marini, who, according to the latest news, has been able to render the human body practically immortal. It sounds some- : what improbable, yet it is said that Marini has: preserved the. body of his little daughter, who’died eleven years ago, and is still resting, apparently asleep, in a memorial room, in her father’s residence. The process is hot one of embalming, which, merely delays, but cannot arrest decomposition. The Italian scientist’s methods are very different, and the departed remains just as if alive, but sleeping peacefully. For a certain length of time the flesh remains soft and pliable.. After undergoing tMs preparatory stage Marini can petrify the body until it becomes practically as hard as bronze or marble. The professor’s discovery has been known some time in the scientific world, but his recent achievements have astonished and amazed the foremost medical authorities in Europe. The uses to which this discovery can be put are many, and will be of immense service in the world of medicine, since peculiar cases can now be preserved in medical museums for the instruction of students. Posterity will also be able to enjoy the results of this revolutionising discovery, since it will be enabled to gaze, upon the faces and forms of the world’s great men and Women, instead of upon their bronze and marble presentments. Yet there is something gruesome in the notion. Would any of us wish to look upon Gladstone’s poor pain-racked face after “ life’s fitful fever ” had ended, and he had earned the right—if ever man had—to rest serene and calm in the breast of the great earth-mother? What room would there be left for ideals! After all, save for scientific purposes, it is better that the worn-out body should return to the dust whence it came. Wo have already too marked a tendency towards materialism. We put the body before the soul, and we suffer on allhands for this folly.

discontent divine! _ There is not much of the divine about the restless discontent of leisured women. One has only to watch their faces at a ball or a reception to read the sad story of the emptiness of life. " The world simply swarms with discontented women,” writes an observant novelist. “ When you’ve counted the marriageable ones that are not married, the energetic ones that are not occupied, the good ones that are not. appreciated, and the beautiful ones that are not admired, vou have only touched the fringe.” It would take a lifetime to classify them properly. Each.one chinks she is' isolated. She is wrapped up in herself because the prince has not come to awaken her soul into life—to end her dream of tilings as they are not so that she may see things as they are. “ Madge,” writing in “ Truth,” says that a whole army of these women exists in England. They are, she says, embittered by disappointment. They have not only had to face disillusionment on their entry into • womanhood, but they have also—cruellest pang of all—to confess to themselves that they have been wilfully misled by the very persons who should have prepared them for realities, and not for impossible ideals. There is comfort—of a sort— in the thought that this state of things will be almost impossible in the next generation or so, when women will think it a disgrace to permit ■ their brains to remain undeveloped. Already the healthful effects of work are being recognised everywhere, and it is a worn-out truism to remark that employment is a golden cure for discontent. Unhappy, disappointed, well-to-do women not only suffer themselves, but they also cause others to suffer also. They rarely enjoy good health—for obvious -reasons—and their tempers are not improved in consequence. From their ranks, moreover, come the principal retailers of gossip and scandal, and the community suffers accordingly. Even during the last decade a sense of honour has developed among women that forbids them to speak evil of their sisters. They recognise the treachery it implies towards their sex. Indeed, so strongly is this felt, that Associations like that of the Daughters of the Court have sprung up all over the civilized world—a hopeful sign of the growing solidarity of mankind. . The crying need of the’times is for loyalty. We'want loyalty among -women. We cannot have too much. We want loyalty in the home, and loyalty in business. _ Armed and strengthened by this great power, we shall proceed towards the development of a beauty of character such as seems to-day but a'far-off ideal. And if there is plenty of room for development of character, there is also plenty of room for employment. Nowadays no woman need eat her heart out in idleness, because

she cannot become ,a typewriter, or a governess.. She may launch .but in whatever direction her inclinations and natural equipment may lead her. As a photographer, gardener, ■ manageress, of laundry or dairy, poor law guardian, factory inspector, house decorator .or stockbroker, she may find as much employment as the,, most energetic could desire. She may even become a picture, dealer, like the.wiapw of,a noted artist, who has recently made this new departure from-the beaten track of women’s employments. Then for those of independent means there is always abundant work on more intellectual lines, or such public work as can never be adequately rewarded in this world. After all it does not matter where a women starts from, but where she comes cut. Necessity is generally the goad (hat spurs us on to work, and discontented, wealthy women are unfortunate in being placed above want. Yet they have many examples of disinterestedness and devotion before their eyes if they will only look around them. Such a one—to select at random from- a noble army of women—is Lady Aberdeen, who has already accomplished an- immense amount of enduring work among her sisters for pure love of them and of humanity, and for no recompense save what her own conscience can grant her. And as long as women nave' one wrong unrighted, so long as there is unhappiness and. sin .and, crime. ,in the wprld, so long shall we need women workers, thinkers, writers, helpers. So long shall it remain a shame and a reproach to a woman, if she wastes her life in idleness because she: “ can find nothing to do.”

Worry is the most insidious enemy we have, and though men are attacked by it, women seem, from the condition of their life, to be its special victims. It takes us unawares, like a thief in the night, and we suddenly awake to the fact that it has taken up its abode with us. It does not depart so readily. Sinbad’s old man of the sea was not harder to shake off; meanwhile, it is busy sapping our mental and bodily vigour. It absorbs the strength, it lessens the brain power, attacks ' the digestion, weakens the eyesight, turns the hair grey, and adds many years to one’s life, in a few weeks. Though we know all this, we simply acquiesce ; we are worried and accept the fact. But what we fail to realise about it, is just the simple fact that the worry is in us; that we can drive it away, since it is something quite apart from the outside troubles that cause this same deadly worry. First of all we should take ourselves in hand, and that, too, pretty soon. A woman I know was beginning to give way to worry. Her" business went wrong, and she was full of gloomy forebodings, when one day she roused herself.; she went to her doctor and asked him; for a tonic. In a few days she began to find that matters were not nearly as bad as she had thought. Next she forced herself to cultivate a hopeful attitude of mind, and before a few weeks were past she was herself again, and her business affairs had ceased to weigh upon her mind. But what we need is something that will strengthen us against worry before it comes. Some people are bom with a sanguine cheery temperament, others are not. These last should make it a sacred duty to cultivate a temperament that will stand m and serene before fortune’s keenest •arrows. We can do it. If we s«y we cannot,'we confess that we are not masters of self—a humiliating confession that amounts to our charging ourselves with abject-'cowardice.

We can master self. We can,alter our nature, if we wisli to. That is the crux of the matter. We do not really wish to, so we yield easily to what we call our natural temperament. But we can train our minds to be hopeful, to look only, at the bright side of things. We parrot the saying “There’s a silver lining to every cloud,” without ever attempting to see it with the eyes of faith. “ It’s a long lane that has no turning,” runs glibly on the tongue, but fails to reach the heart. If we .cultivate the faith-plant in our hearts till it has obtained a firm rootage, we shall never be cast down, even if the world’s shrivel up and disappear. We shall always see the “silver lining,” and its radiance will shine* from our countenance. We shall feel the sunshine even when the sky is overcast. We shall find the good in the hearts of our fellow creatures, no matter how thickly it is crusted over with evil. And to be cheerful and sanguine, sunny of face and mind is to conquer all along the line. It is a royal gift, and makes for success. Try it, busy, troubled, anxious woman, and you will discover how startlingly true it is that “ nothing succeeds like success.” In other words, if you believe in success as possible, and it never was otherwise, you have gained half the victory.

Few women would care to become, the responsible possessors of a set of china costing: £6OOO, Mrs William Astor is such a woman, and she- has, moreover, added another servant to her already large retinue, whose sole duties are confined to the care of the 212 pieces of china that compose the set. Newspaper accounts describe the china as being somewhat simple in design, and of a rich cream white tint, with a slightly scalloped edge. Close to the rim traced in burnished gold, is the star-scat--tered Astor crest. Below the crest and encircling each plate comes a band of gold, then a band of brilliant red, bordered by another gleaming band of gold, while further down the plate and directly underneath' the crest are Mrs Astor’s initials in a- monogram. The care of these costly dishes entails a good deal of anxiety on mistress and maid, for the porcelain is said -to be so brittle that no two pieces may be allowed to touch one another, and'a special china closet with velvet lined compartments had to be built to accommodate them. It is not everything, after all, to. possess artistic treasures, since a careless touch may destroy hundreds of pounds worth in a few moments. In spite of this Mrs Astor’s china dinner, set is doubtless a source of great envy to her friends, especially since the china in question was originally intended for. the table of Royalty itself, at least, so New York papers say.