Ladies' Column.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 426, 10 April 1880, Page 3

Ladies' Column.

A BRIDE'S REFLECTIONS.

Take my cloak—and now fix my veil, Jenny—(How silly to cover one's face ! I might as well be an old woman; But then there's one comfort—it's lace.) Well, what has become of those ushers ! Oh, Pa ! have you got my bouquet 1 I'll freeze standing here in the lobby— Why doesn't the organist play ? They've started at last—what a bustle ! Stop, Pa !—they're not far enough—wait! One minute more—now— do keep step, Pa ! There, drop my trail, Jane !—is it straight ? (I hope I look timid and shrinking ; The church must be perfectly full.) Good gracious ! now don't walk so fast, Pa ! (He don't seem to think that trains pull.) (The chancel at last!)—Mind the step, Pa ! (I don't feel embarrassed at all — But, my! what's the minister saying? Oh, I know, that part 'bout Saint Paul. I hope my position is graceful; How awkwardly Nelly Dane stood ! " Not lawfully be joined together — Now speak"" —as if any one would ! Oh, dear ! now it's my turn to answer—(l do wish that Pa would stand still.) "Serve him, love, honor, and keep him" — (How sweptly he says it)—l will. Where's Pa ?—there, I knew he'd forget it, (When the time came to give me-away.) " — Helena, take thee—lave — cherish — And » (well, I can't help it!)— "obey." Here, Maud, take my bouquet—don't drop it! I hope Charlie's not lost the ring; Just like him !—no .'—goodness, how heavy ! It's really an elegant thing. It's a shame to kneel down in white satin — And the flounce, old real lace—but I must; I hope that they've got a clean cushion, They're usually covered with dust. All over —Ah, thanks !—now, don't fuss, Pa ! Just throw back my veil, Charlie, there — (Oh, bother ! why couldn't he kiss me Without tumbling up all my hair.) Your arm, Charlie, there goes the organ. (Who'd think there would be such a crowd; Oh, I must look round, I'd forgotten.) See Charlie, who was it that bowed; Why, it's Nellie Allaire with her husband—(She's awfully jealous, I know; Most all of my things are imported, And she had a home-made trousseau, And there's Annie Wheeler—Kate Hermon— I didn't expect her at all. If she's not in the same old blue satin She wore at the Charity Ball ! Is that Fanny Wade ? Edith Pearson — And Emma and Joe —all the girls ?_ I knew that they'd not miss my wedding— I hope they'll all notice my pearls.) Is the carriage there? —give me my cloak,

Jane— Don't get it all over my veil— No ! you take the other seat, Charlie, I need all this for my trail.

DRESSING CHILDREN. Suggestions to the Mothers op Little Ones.

Many a young mother wearily puzzles her brains over the question of the style and nature of children's dress without arriving at any satisfactory decision. The long clothes of the infants conform to long-established custom, for Buch garments seem to be constructed upon the very sensible theory that a baby has no shape anyhow, and no human possibility can make the little gowns fit ; but snowy whiteness, and delicacy and firmnesj of fabric, and dainty needlework will breathe a poetry of their own into even a shapeless bunch of flannel and cambric, embroidery, lace, and nainsook. But then,the baby graduates to a use of his ankles and the wearing of short clothes, and a mother's troubles and blunders begin. Petticoats have an unconquerable tendency to show beneath dresses, waists to bunch up, and stockings to slide down, and the pretty lace-trimmed dresses, in the course of an hour or so of merry tumbling about the most neatly-kept room, acquire a limp and dingy look. There are three castes in motherhood in San Francisco, the poorest and lowest are usually the happiest.

The poor woman who must manage to make her baby's slender wardrobe out of bits of calico or remnants of 1: etter goods, garments given by more fortunate friends, makes the garments plainly 2.nd easily, and is as triumphant at the saving of sufficient material for a narrow flounce to bedeck the bottom of the skirt as the wealthier mother at the grandest achievement of her stylish dressmaker. Then, too, the working-woman has no time to bother over the intricacies of taste or fashion. If her lads and lassies can be kept neat and clean they will outshine the majority of their associates : and if circumstances will not admit of even this boast—ah, well, dirt is healthy, and what is fine dress or style compared with health and a ruddy face for a child ? The mother whose purse is ample usually relegates the direction of her children's wardrobe to her dressmaker, but the majority o f women possess moderate or limited means, aud are obliged to personally superintend or, in many cases, perform the work with their own hands ; and with all the vexations and worries arising from inexperience and unskillfulness, she feels rewarded at last in seeing on the little garments the unmistakable stamp of individual taste and motherly daintiness which Worth himself could not.give to a child's dress. There is a science in dressing a child, and especially little ones just emerging from babyhood. The underclothing is of just as much importance as the outer, and should be as carefully made and neatly fitted to the small forms. Beginning with primary principles, the shirt is , best knitted by hand of fine white Saxony wool, which washes nicely and easily without shrinking. These are much more desirable, warmer and fleecier than silk underclothing, and last a long time, both by reason of their durability and the elasticity which enables them to accommodate tbem to the form of a child. Bought ready made, they cost from 1*25 dollar 1*75 dollar, but the wool for one costs about 50 cents, and the knitting is pretty evening work to take up after the babies are off to bed. Five cents' worth of narrow ribbon, drawn at the neck, finishes the pretty garment, which should be made of ample proportions. It is scarcely necessary to remind a California mother that woollen or flannel clothes can only be kept nice by being washed at home. A well-fitted waist of strong material should follow the shirt, to the bottom of which may be attached a flannel skirt, either embroidered or with the hem prettily marked with a circle of herringbone stitch in white silk. Buttons around the waistband above enable a cambric Bkirfc to be attached, white tabs extending beneath the flannel skirt bear buttons to which the stocking- suspeEders may be hung. These latter are one of the perplexities of motherhood. None have yet been invented which will hold up the stocking firmly without either cutting holes in thestockiDgsor else monopolising several inches of fulness from the top of the hose, which are never too large for California children's nether limbs. These buttons should always be sewed on as firmly as possible, for the strain upon them is great, and they are always giving way. Stockings for children are an expensive item at best. For small children nothingbetter can be found than French cashmere hose, which are soft, warm, and light, and come in pretty colors. Generally speaking, hosiery is a department in which economy is waste. It is better to buy a desirable, elastic, fast-colored hose at once, even though the price - seems a little exorbitant, than to buy pair after pair of cheap stockings, only to see holes come at the first wearing. Silk stockings are uuccmfortable absurdities on children under three years, and in questionable taste for ordinary wear for older children. In shoes, another perplexity. Mothers will find it better to search until they find some shoe store which can furnish broad, solid shoes, with ample insteps and generous ankles, and select good and perfect leather, rather than content themselves with purchasing cheap shoes, which must be renewed every few weeks,

which never look well, and have a strong tendency to cripple the children's feet and destroy the grace and ease of their gait. Children of three, who will wear out in from four to six weeks a pair of buttoned kid boots which cost from 1.25 dollar to 1.50 dollar, will wear a pair • of French kid boots costing from 2 dollars to 2.50 dollars three months or longer. The economy is manifest. In San Francisco there is a fast-growing tendency, the outgrowth of rivalry and vanity, to array little girls after the fashion of their elders, in the richest fabrics procurable. Thin, silky locks, so pretty if left to fall in natural twining or curling tendrils, are twisted and crimped and frizzed into a semblance of grown-up coiffures. Uncomfortably high French heels are frequently placed under their feet, and when they emerge from the mysteries of the toilet, they present grotesque miniatures of artificial young society women. True they attract much notice upon the streets, and strangers exclaim regarding the gorgeous manner in which many little San Francisco girls are dressed ; but even, the most admiring eye will turn from them to rest with pleasure and delight upon a modestly-dressed little girl, with blooming face, tripping along by her mother's side in unconsciousness grace and -childish prettiness. Mothers of leisure usually like to keep their little children and their daughters in white or light-tin ted dresses, but find it impossible to give them the proper amount of exercise and keep them neatly dressed. One San Francisco mother claims to have solved the difficulty. She possesses abundant means, and has a pretty home, with nice grounds. Of her five children the two oldest, nine and six years of age, are girls, while the others are boys of five and three and a baby of eighteen months. Every morning the children are dressed in dark, strong clothing, and all allowed to play as heartily and merrily as they please. At noon the older girls don dainty house-dresses and the baby her white frock, and the play of the morning having given a vent to the exuberant spirits, they are ready for a quiet afternoon, spent either indoors or in a short walk or ride. Children's dresses follow the English styl*.

Little ones from two to four years of age, when their parents do not care to dress them in white, wear box-plaited blouses of dark navy blue or gendarme flannel. These - have three box-plaits down the front and the same behind ; the plaits are stitched near each edge from the neck down to the waist and over the hips, but are loose on the skirt. A wide belt of the flannel passes low over the hips. Little boys to the age of five and a half years wear the long-plaited dress, without visible trousers. There are a variety of pretty and becoming styles for the accompanying little coats, which should be always of the same color and material. When they have arrived at this age they wear a' transition costume, composed of rather long trouser?, gathered zouave style, full at the knees and disclosing the long stockings ; no vest, but a rather long jacket with, plaited back, if the suit is of woollen goods accompanies the costumes. When the costume is of velvet, the jacket is not plaited, but is cut long, much after the style and manner of a Louis XIV. coat. The overcoats are always long and tight, and with deep round collars. Pretty dresses for young girls are made of momie cloth in dark cashmere colors, with bright palms and flowers strewn irregularly" over the ground. These dresses are plainly made with basques, and over-dresses caught up by shirred drawing strings. The round waists are gathered into a belt, and the full waists shirred on the shoulders and at the waist line, a style also prevalent in print and cambric dresses. The overskirt is a deep round apron, shirred high on each side, and the skirts are always of modest length, little more than exposing, the shoe tops. If it is desired that a cambric or print dress should look pretty or fanciful, a scant frill of white Hamburg edging or colored embroidery is used to edge the apron and sleeves, and is also sometimes put on as a flounce on the lower skirt or in surplice shape on the waist. For very plain or simple dresses the skirts are merely hemmed and the apron finished with a bias band. For girls from six to twelve Pyears old the English dress is a favorite. This is a kind of long, loose paletot, made of any material, fine check and even the large Scotch plaids being used, and is worn with deep collars of fine, snowy linen, with guipure insertion and cuffs to match.—American paper. FASHION FRIPPERIES. It is the fashion at home now to have artificial flowers in the bonnet, dress, &c, scented to imitate nature as closely as possible, but it is thought the rage will be short-lived, as in crowded assemblies the conglomeration of artificial odors is apt to be overpowering. A change of sleeves makes so much alteration in the appearance of the dress that it may be worn on several occasions without exciting remark as to the narrowness of your means, or the poverty of your wardrobe. Even table-cloths are subject to innovations, and the last novelty that has appeared among them is a slit at intervals along the side, and with the ends of the pieces between the slits rounded off like the end of a banner. The corners are slit and buttoned over, so that the cloth cannot be dragged off. Polonaises of velvet, trimmed with fur, are worn without mantles over kilted skirts of ! satin or silk, and several costumes made in this way. of some of the new velveteens look extremely well, but still the favorite material in Paris seems to be cashmere, and there are cashmere trimmings and cashmere beads, and just now it is quite the rage to bead, jet, or powder with gold dust all the galons and passementeries used in trimming. High heeled slippers will continue to be fashionable for house wear; also open boots. This has necessitated the display of unique and expensive hosiery. The handsomest and richest patterns have stripes of lace and silk, while others are made entirely of fine guipure lace. Striped hosiery is now the most fashionable, showing corduroy effects and coming, in gay colors. Others have tartan plaids and Roman stripes, while those in solid tints are handsomely embroidered over the instep. Silk hosiery in plain, rich colors are in vogue, and are how much more reasonable in price than formerly.