LADIES' PAGE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 701, 7 August 1885, Page 4

LADIES' PAGE.

Saving appointed a Lady to conduct this page, we have to reguest that all communications upon domestic matters, dress, cuisine, «Ssc, <&c., he addressed to Madame Elise, of the New Zealand Mail. IDLE WORDSO Idle words ! "Why will ye never die, □But float forever in the sky, _ □Dimming the stars that shine in memory, □Destroying hope and causing love from earth to flee, 111-omened birds. O Idle words ! □Preying upon the heart, with wounds a deadly smart ; □Expirinr breath that taints the very air, "Will ye forever leave your victims to despair ? 111-omened biads. O Idle words! How many are the tears □That ye have caused to flow : the fears Ye have begot and made to mountains grow, Crushing the innocent beneath a weight of woe, 111-omened birds. O Idle words 1 Your flight is ever on, In heaven darkening the sun ; By weary journeys without delay, To wend your dreary way unto the judgment day, 111-omened birds. —jEvery other Saturday. “IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.” It might have been ? Oh, saddest words of all, We dream and dream of scenes beyond recall. iSad'tlioughts will come, and burning tears will fall, For “ might have been.” Oh, could we live our lives all o’er again ! Could we forget the present with the pain Of thoughts that are unspoken ? All in vain. It might have been, t might have been. Oh, words of wild regret 5 Sorrow for vanished honrs, and yet—ah, yet— Would we if e'en we could, forget—forget— What might have been ? Ah, well ! perchance for all some sweet hope lies Buried deeply, maybe, from human eyes, And none but God may ever hear our sighs O’er “ might have been.” God knoweth best, and though our tears fall, Though none beside may knew, He knoweth all., All that is sad and lost beyond recall— The “might have been.” —Chambers’ Journal.

FIRST LOVE. First love, a complaint of one's earliest days ; which, like many other complaints, we can. luckily have but once. It is a dream of one’s youth—nothing but a dream, as we look back upon it dispassionately through a long vista of years ; but at the time, when -we were under its influence, it was either a delightful or a dreadful reality, as the case may have been. As we sit in the twilight of life, and look back upon the events of the morning, skipping the long intervening day, and recalling only the time when we had a First Love, we cannot help wondering to ourselves why so -vast a majority of sufferers never marry their First Loves.

Certainly we are generally very young, and not very wise, when the “ First Love season” Gomes on. Perhaps the object is too -young, or too poor, or his family are objectionable, or we are supposed to be able to do anuch better, as the phrase is, or there are ififty other reasons, all urged against the .affair, and so it is nipped in the bud, and it all goes off. But it puzzles us, in these our sober years, to comprehend why all these . objections always attach themselves to First □Love only, and not to all or any of the successive lovers who present themselves. As we march on in life we find our parents relaxing in obduracy, and recommending to our favorable attention admirers whom we ourselves do not admire at all, and we see -them trying to overcome obstacles, and endeavoring to arrange matters, with an energy which we never saw them display in -what we venture to think were much better causes.

Now, in the case of that smart young First Love to whom we had to bid farewell in the cloisters of Berryton Cathedral, certainly he Lad been ordered abroad very suddenly—but mot a hope was held out to us that some day Le might come back for a more favorable Shearing, though our tears must have been ,seen as we gulped them down at meals, or -caught them before they fell, on that dark <lay when the fiat went forth of “ Quite impossible,” He is a General Low, quite at

the top of his martial tree, though that does not much matter to us now; but still we look with some pride at a yellow document we turned out of an old cabinet the other day, bearing date forty years ago, and a touching copy of verses, well read, and somehow difficult now to read, owing to the crumbly and blistered state of it. They begin :

How wide apart our destinies are cast ! What leagues between us now of land and sea, How little thought I, when I saw thee last, That this would be. Yet still deep sympathy, affections chain Hath followed thee where’er thy steps have ranged, And much I marvel, when we meet again, Wilt thou he changed ?

We thought them beautiful poetry, and we are proud of them, because that smart young First Love is a very great man now. We certainly were considerably changed when we met again. One of us had seven children, and the other wore spectacles, and had been wounded in the wars, but true enough he had been one of the “ quite impossibles” in his youth. Then there was that young attache—he is an ambassador now—but he was another *'* quite impossible,” for he was supposed not to possess a penny, yet it was the first loveletter we ever received. It was crushed into our hand after a late ball. We remember well how it began :

Belle Sophie ! si d’aimer est un crime, je suis coupable.

We forget the rest, but really, when one thinks of it, it is a very curious thing. Ask fifty women of your acquaintance, or even fifty men, “ Did you marry your First Love ?” and nineteen times out of twenty the answer will be, with a laugh of derision, “Oh dear no.”

Certainly now and then, very rarely, a remarkable coincidence will happen. The young barrister who went to India to seek his fortune left behind him a beloved object, to whose parents he was one of the “ quite impossibles.” His lady love was a fair, fragile young girl, and he hardly ever expected to see her again. In seventeen years he returned, a grey-haired man—a judge—and with a handle to his name. The fair, fragile young girl was a handsome woman of seven and thirty, and still single. They are now Sir William and my lady ; but that was a very solitary instance, for neither of them had married during those seventeen years. People used to call him a confirmed old bachelor ; and, as for her, she was set down as very likely to be an old maid. People wondered such a handsome, agreeable creature had never married, and rumour whispered a suspicion of a disappointment in early life. When it all came right, it was looked upon as a delightful romance.

Widows, perhaps, are more liable to marry their First Loves than single women ; but then there has been an interregnum of a “marriage de convenance” most probably, and he has come back to find her rich, or she is struggling on in poverty, and he has made his fortune, and is proud to lay it at her feet.

But the history of First Loves might fill a book. No love of after life is ever conducted on the same principle. We look back with a sort of tender interest on the episode and on the manner in which it was conducted. There was nothing mercenary about it. All was pure, and genuine, and gushing, not perhaps always quite open and above-board, but of course that only deepened the interest. If our parents had said, “ My dear, if you can make up your mind to be a poor man’s wife, take him,” we should not have been half so keen about it. It was the opposition that was part of the charm. It was the stolen meetings that were so enchanting, and the tumbled little bits of paper rolled round the stalks of the flowers that were so precious. What would a letter, with a penny stamp upon it, coming by the common post, Lave been, compared to the surreptitious happiness of the crushed notes, or the screwed-up little bits of paper? But ah ! —well-a day ! The dream is all over. We have had the complaint, battled through the fever, and live to tell our story with a laugh. We have got through it ourselves, but we cannot “ stamp it out,” as the doctors say. Younger generations are cropping up fast around us, and we see them catching it one after the other, and we smile with a sort of watchful interest, as if we could recall tender reminiscences if we liked; but we can only say, It cannot be helped. They must have it once in their lives, poor things ! They will not have it again—this tiresome First Love ; so they must just live it down, as we did ! Queen. NOVEL EXHIBITION. The Miniature Mme. Tussaud Exhibition, held recently by permission of the Lady Egerton of Tattoo at 23, Rutland-gate, on behalf of the industrial fund of the Girls’ Friendly Society, proved a great success. On the opening day, shortly after three o’clock, the packed crowd within doors and the crowd waiting outside for admittance, testified to the popularity of the Girls’ Friendly Society as much as to the curiosity excited by the novel entertainment, designed and organised by Mrs Symes Thompson. After much pushing and scrambling the

drawing rooms were reached, where the 1 wax-headed dolls were on view, grouped and | costumed to illustrate scenes from English I history. The space of time included in the miniature exhibition being from the days when Druids gathered mistletoe to those of Queen Victoria, ample opportunities for variety of treatment were allowed the. designers. The groups adapted and copied from old tapestries and pictures, were perhaps the happiest in arrangement. Thus Miss Gladstone sent William the Conqueror crowned a second time with his Queen Matilda of Flanders at Winchester Cathedral by Aldrid, Archbishop of York, the costumes copied from the Bayeux tapestry and other contemporary illustrations. Mrs Goodlake contributed a Tudor group, copied from a Holbein at Hampton Court Palace. One of the groups, contributed by the Lady Helen Stewart (president of the London branch of the Society) showed the lady’s Plantaganet ancestors, in menacing attitudes, plucking the white and red roses of York and Lancaster in the Temple Gardens. The same hand sent a representation of the Duchess of Albany (patroness of the London ; diocese) in widow’s weeds, her children "at her knee. The Countess of Munster was represented by an animated and brightly designed representation of Queen Elizabeth dancing before Sir Roger Aston, afterwards groom of the chamber of James I. watching with astonished mein the be hooped and farthingaled maiden queen pirouetting to ) the sound of “ a little fiddle.” Among the most picturesque groups was one representing the pre-historic figures of King Arthur, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Galahad, contributed by the Hon. Mrs Sturgis and members of the Barret House Girls’ Club. Miss Homes and associates of the Arundel branch sent Pope Gregory pausing to look at the bright-haired British children in the slave market at Rome. Mrs Symes Thompson contributed, among other groups, an elaborately arranged archaic interior, showing Alfred the Great as a child, poring over a book of Saxon poetry, kneeling by his mother’s side, while in the foreground his two less studious brothers are seen playing with their bows and arrows. Figures in the varied attire of the Jacobite and Georgian eras were too numerous to allow mention of them here. The great attraction proved to be the group representing Queen Victoria holding a Drawing-room, contributed by Mme. Stephanie Roper. In this glittering array Mr Gladstone might be recognised by the height of the shirt collar bestowed upon him. Among the “general groups” the Countess of Dartmouth, sent a “Children’s Hunting Scene Miss Gladstone, an interesting model of the cot room of the Latymer Infant Day Nursery in Blechynden-street, Notting Hill; Lady Florence Blount illustrating nursery rhymes. Space will not allow U 3 to mention more of the ninety groups contributed by the members of the association. Making their way through the crowd came emissaries from the Countess of Galloway’s flower stall, carrying baskets and knots of fresh blossoms. In the library Lady Helen Stewart and Miss E. Matthews presided over the refreshment stall, where figured the excellent cakes that had competed for and won the prize offered for the best culinary results achieved by the members of the society. Lady Brabazon and Mrs Jerome Mercier exhibited, in the dining room, the beautiful needlework and church embroideries executed by invalid members of the association ; there also Lady Florence Blount presided over the stall devoted to underclothing ; the solid and dainty sewing displayed excited much admiration. Prizes had been offered by some of the ladies, members of the society, to the young girls and invalids whom they befriend in the most sympathetic meaningof the word, and the successful specimens of handiwork were shown. The Countess of Lathom and Mrs Symes Thompson presided over a tastefully arranged stall, covered with attractive specimens of art pottery and pretty knickknacks. Lady Stewart and Miss Barron angled in a reed-bordered fish pond. A procession of historically dressed children, small medioeval ladies in pointed Lenners and flowing veils, dainty princesses in sweeping mantles and high ruffs, young crusaders and tiny jesters with tinkling caps and bells, was a charming sight as it wended its way down the long drawing-room.—Queen’j MATRIMONIAL MEMORANDA. Never taunt with a past mistake. ' Never allow a request to be repeated. Let self-abnegation be the habit of both. ‘ I forgot ’ is never an acceptable excuse. If you must criticise, let it be done lovingly. Make marriage a matter of moral judgment.

Never make a remark at the.expense of the other. Never talk at one another, either alone or in company. Give your warmest sympathies for each other’s trials. If one is angry, let the other part the lips only for a kiss. Neglect the whole world beside rather than one another. Never speak loud to one another unless the house is on fire. Let each strive to yield oftenest to the wishes of the other. The very felicity is in the mutual cultivation of usefulness. Always leave home with loving words, for they may be the last. A good wife or a good husband is the greatest earthly blessing. Never find fault unless it is perfectly certain a fault has been committed. Let all your mutual accommodations be spontaneous, whole-souled, and free as air. Do not herald the sacrifices you make to each other’s tastes, habits, or preferences. A hesitating or gram yielding to the wishes of the other always grates upon a loving heart. Consult one another in all that comes within the experience, observation, or sphere of the other. They who marry for traits of mind and heart will seldom fail of perennial springs of domestic enjoyment. Never reflect on a past action which was done with a good motive and with the best judgment at the time. They are the safest who marry from the standpoint of sentiment rather than of feeling, passion, or mere love.

The beautiful in htearfc is a million times of more avail, as securing domestic happiness, than the beautiful in person.

FUNNY LITTLE FOLKS-

Children get hold of pretty conceits, sometimes. “ What does God send the snow for ?” asked one little girl of another. “ Why, the snow-flakes are the umbrellas He covers His flowers with,” was the answer.

Little Amy, chided for mischief, protested that Susan (the servant) had persuaded her. Said papa—“ Tell me exactly what Susan said.’’ “She said, ‘You push that stand, Miss, if you dare.’” “Them’s my very words,” interjected Susan. “And,” pursued the little culprit, “I dared, so I pushed.” Once when Daisy’s mamma had missed her for a long time, she went to look for her. Where do you suppose she found her ? Sitting on the rug with a shawl wound around her. When mamma opened the door, Daisy said-: “Hush! Hush! I am tetting, and doing to hatch some ittle biddies.” Mamma shooed her off the nest, and found the little thing had been patiently sitting on six A B C blocks, a darning egg, a little china mug and a broken doll’s head.

Her First Sunday at Church —Little Girl —Nurse, please give me a penny to give to the organ grinder ; he’s soming round begging with a dish. Some one was telling the story of the reply of the little boy who, when asked what made the ocean salt, sad : “ Because cod fish lived in it.” “Pa!” said our Geraldine; “what a stupid boy to get things so mixed up ! I always know that the codfish were salt, ’cause they lived in the ocean.” This wise little girl also believed that the stars were the children of the moon. Her mother wanted her to go to bed one night before she felt quite sleepy enough to go willingly. “ But the moon hasn’t sent her children to bed yet,” objected the little astronomer, petulantly. It so happened that a storm was brewing and heavy clouds were gathering in the heavens. “Go and see if she hasn’t,” said her mother. The little head was immediately popped out of the window and the sky was scanned eagerly. “ Well, I guess I’ve got to go to bed now,” she said after the survey; “ the moon is covering up her children and tucking them in.”

Emily Bovell Sturge, M.D., who has died at Nice, was mathematical tutor at Queen’s College. In 1873 she went to Paris to finish her medical studies which she was unable to continue at Edinburgh. In 1877 she maintained her doctoral thesis at the Paris Medical Faculty on congestive phenomena, following epileptic and hystero-epileptio fits. The same year she was married to Dr Allen Sturge and settled in London, when she was appointed physician to the new hospital for women in Marylebone-road, and also became lecturer on physiology and hygiene to Queen’s College. In 1881, in consequence of her failing health, she settled at Nice. She read many papers at the International Congress of Hygiene. One of these was on the “ Special dangers attaching to the use of red lead,” with illustrative cases ; also a paper on the “ Pathology of Fibrord Phthisis” before the Medical Society of Nice. Mrs Sturge received the distinction of being nominated Officier de I’Academic.

A Montreal firm has invented and patented a machine for cooking by electricity. It consists of a saucepan so isolated by nonconductors that the bottom forms the positive pole of the current. The negative pole is attached to a movable point which travels is circles over the bottom of the pan underneath, distributing the heat over the whole surface and with sufficient rapidity to avoid burning a hole through the pan at any one point. .