LADIES' PAGE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 772, 17 December 1886, Page 4

LADIES' PAGE.

Having appointed, a lady to conduct this page, we have to request that all communications upon domestic matters, dress, cuisine, due. dec., he addressed to Madame Elisb, of the New Zealand Mail.

MOTHEK S MENDING-BASKET-

Over and under, and in and out. The swift little needle flies •, For always between her and idleness The n:ending-basket lies; And the patient bands, though weary. Work lovingly on and on At tasks that never are finished ; For mending is never done.

She takes up the father’s stocking, And knits in the heel. And smooths the seam with a tender touch. That he may no roughness feel ; And her thoughts to her merry girlhood. And her early wifehood go, And she smiles at the first pair of stockings She knit so long ago.

Then she speaks to the little maiden Learning to knit at her side, And tells her about those stockings Uneven and shapeless and wide — ‘I had to ravel them out, my dear; Don’t be discouraged, but try, And after a while you’ll learn to knit As swift and even as I.’

She takes up a little white apron. And thinks of the woeful face Of her darling when she came crying: * Oh, mamma ! I’ve torn my lace.’ So she mended the child’s pet apron ; Then took up a tiny shoe, And fastened a stitch that was broken, And tied the ribbon of blue.

The maiden has wearied of working And gone away to her play ; The sun in tbe west is sinking At tbe close of the quiet day. Now the mother’s hands are resting Still bolding a stocking of red, And her thoughts in the twilight shadow To the far off future have fled.

• O ' where will the little feet wander Before they have time to rest? Where will the bright heads be pillowed When mother’s loving breast. Is under tbe spring’s blue violets, And under the summer grass, When over her fall the autumn leaves, And the storms of wider pass ?'

And a prayer from her heart she utters : ‘ God bless them, my dear ones all! ' O t may it be many, many years Ere sorrow to them befall!’ To her work from the She turns with a heart at rest; For she knows that to husband and children She is always the first and best

Abbe Kinne.

AUNTIE’S ROSE.

It is only a rose, my darlings! Do you ask what the tale can be— Why a rose that is withered and faded Should he so dear to me ? Somebody sent it me, darlings. Back in the days of yore, On the night that his ship was sailing Away to the dreadful war.

But I had hit rose, my darlings, To comiort me day by day, As I read the bitter tiding" Of the iishting far away. Till it drooped and died, my darlings, And I read its message plain, That he who had given that little rose Would never come back again.

And now I am old, my darlings, And life diaws near its close. You know why ray heart is happy As I watch my sweet dead, rose -Our life has another chapter To read in the world to be. And love like a new rose, darling, •\Vill blossom for him and me. Cassell’s Magazine.

A ROYAL TROUSSEAU. The trousseau of the Princess Maria Josepha of Saxonj', which was exhibited last week at the Residence Castle at Dresden, has been much talked of. In the second storey of the royal residence are the parade saloons, which were formerly inhabited by the widow of the late King John of Saxony. The first room we enter is the Gobelin salon. In the centre of the wall to the right is a toilet table, draped in pale blue silk and lace. On this table we see various sizes covered with white silk, and painted with many-colored flowers. These boxes contain tortoiseshell hairpins, the light ones on the right, and the dark ones on the left side ; further on, a collection of scented sachets. The remarkable beautifui combs and brashes on the same table are made of dark tortoise; they are of Italian make, and a present from the bride’s aunt, the Duchess of Genoa. On each side of the table are the Court dresses, dressing gowns, and mantelets on wire stands. A white damask dress, with embroidered Court train, with point lace, and trimmings of unsurpassed beauty, is a present from the King of Saxony. The next dress, a moir6, of a pale pink hue, partially covered with gilt bead work, and trimmed with superb white lace flounces, which belonged to the late mother of the bride, the Princess George. A Court dress in pale blue, trimmed with tea roses eu tablier, is extremely tasteful. The gowns are of Parisian make, and amongst the most conspicuous is one of cream color, with three insertions or gold embroidery. Another, in pale pink velvet, with white lace en tablier, which runs down in narrow kilts from the ueck to the edge of the skirt. A third costume in red-brown silk, trimmed with red and olive plush ; the overskirt is interlaced with yellow upon a red foundation. A moir6 dress in black, plainly made, and embroidered with beads, is intended for morning visits.

Amongst the mantelets, all of which are of Parisian make, there is a short pale blue fur jacket, with black embroidery, and another of deep red velvet, with gold embroidery and epaulettes to match, and two large bows of red patin around the waist. On the other side of the room we see a long table, upon which is placed the bride’s linen—the most beautiful and costly in design and material that ait and iudustry can produce. Behind the table are found the more simple costumes, amongst which we notice a travelling dress of navy-blue silk, with very small red squares ; a short skirt, and a Zouave jacket with a red silk waistcoat. The next is a summer dress of creamcambric ; kilted skirt, with embroidered insertions, lined with dark blue; the bodice is fastened diagonally, and trimmed with embroidery and blue bows. In the English drese we note one in pigeon grey, one in dark blue and one in olive grey, with white bodices, all of simple make. A fur cloak from Paris, long, close-fitting, of copper-colored fancy silk plush, with white Angora in front, is handsome. Close by we find simple mantles of all kinds, and amongst them one greenish-grey fur cloak, with sable collar. On the third side of the salon is a table with fans ; a white silk lace one, carved and painted ones, etc. Another table contains the boots and shoes, all of Vienna make. Every color in satin and velvet, and every kind of leather is here represented; conspicuous for beauty is a pair of cream-colored satin shoes with gold embroidery. The next table holds various kinds of fur. A set of blue fox is handsome. Now we come to the hats and bonnets manufactured at Vienna and Baden-Baden, ranging from little felt hats timmed with feathers cr with tartan ribbons, to the most fanciful bomiets. A white velvet capote, with white ostrich feathers, between which are little blue peacock feathers, is particularly fascinating.

THE REAL 4 OVER-PRESSURE.’ ‘ An Englishwoman Abroad ’ sends the following remarks, suggested by the recent Presidential address at the British Medical Asssociation :— ‘ It is a pity that Dr. Withers-Moore cannot travel round Europe, and especially in Austria, and the over-pres-sure that really exists, and is doing more to destroy the health and beauty of the human race than study of any kind can by any possibility ever do. I write from an Austrian bath, filled with the upper classes from Vienna. Among the women it would be difficult to discover, one whose body is of a natural shape, and the greater number are simp y monstrous in their deformity. To show how these waists of eighteen inches can be acquired only by years of ' over pressure,’ let me relate a conversation on board a Danube steamer with a lady from Pesth, who was travelling home with two pretty and charming daughters. I had been so struck by their beauty and natural grace that I plucked up courage to compliment the mother on the ease and true elegance of her girls. The mother flushed with pleasure, and replied in her pretty English, ‘ Ah ! do you think so ? I long fear I never do my duty by my daughters, but as children I could not let them too much suffer; and then, see you, they would not, like the others. But to have a fine * taiile ’ it must

be bmilded up from the beginning ; that cannot come when once growniup !' Now this system is universal in Austria, and, alas ! it is not unknown in England; and would it not be well for our doctors to attack real evils, the bad effects of which are daily before their eyes, instead of tilting at shadow's ? But the one is dangerous, and likely to cause a doctor to lobo hie lady patients, while the other panders to the prejudices of foolish men and women alike. BROUGHT BACK TO LIFEChicago, Sept. 29. —The Evening Journal to-day publishes a case of remarkable resuscitation from supposed death of a young married woman named Mrs Frazer, the daughter of T. H. Stevens, who with his family came here from New York to live some years ago. On July 30 last Mrs Frazer gave birth to a child, and in August, after a few days’ illness, was pronounced dead by the attending physicians. Dr Mark H. Lakersteen, who was also attending Mrs Frazer, says :— * I did everything I could think of to restore respiration, without effect. Ten minutes must have elapsed, though at that time I was not in a position to watch the passage of time. Then it suddenly struck me that I would like to try a, hypodermic injection of this solution of nitro glycerine. I took up ten drops of it and let the corpse have the full benefit of it. The first minute there was not a pulsation, but just a gasp ; that was all. I looked at my watch and there were four such gasps distributed over the first sixty seconds, but that is not life. In the second minute there were six respirations, and a slight heart pulse could be heard, but no pulse could be felt. In the third minute it was 180 and upward, so that it could not be counted. Her face flushed. Her eyes began to roll in their sockets. All the muscles relaxed from the extreme stiffness of death. All the contraction of the limbs gradually relaxed. Speculation came back to her eyes and she became conscious. In my opinion in all cases of shock or collapse this thing ought to be tried before they are given over for lost. There is nothing peculiar or sensational at about it all. The only thing is, I have been the first person to try it. If ever I have saved a life it is this one.

THE FUEL OF THE FUTURE. The house of the near future, the Boston Journal of Commerce thinks, will have no fire-place, steam-pipes, chimneys or flues. Wood, coal, oil, and other forms of fuel are about to disappear altogether in places having factories. Gas has become so cheap that already it is supplanting fuels. A single jet fairly heats a small room in cold weather. A New York artist has produced a simple design for heating entirely by gas at a mere nominal expense. It is a well known fact that gas throws off no smoke, soot or dirt. The artist filled a brazier with chunks of colored glass, and placed several jets beneath. The glass soon became heated sufficiently to thoroughly warm a room 10 x 3? feet in size. The design does away with the necessity for chimneys, since their is no smoke ; the ventilation may be had at the window. The heat may be raised or lowered by simply regulating the flow of gas. The colored glass gives all the appearance of fire; there ate black pieces to represent coal, red chunks for flames, yellowish white glass for white heat, blue glass for blue flames, and hues for all the remaining colors of the spectrum. Invention already is displacing the present fuels for furnaces and cooking ranges, and glass doing away with delay and such disagreeable objects as ashes, kindling wood, etc.

SHE TRIES HER HAND AT DRESS-

MAKING.

Unhappy ihe girls whose education has had no practical side, and who have never learned what their hands were made for.

Now is the season when the young ladywho suspects herself of an undeveloped genius for dressmaking puts her powers to the proof. She is sure she will succeed ; nevertheless, she wishes to avoid possible ridicule, ora superabundance of good advice ; so she conceals her project from the family, and retires to her own room with the skirt of an old dress to be made over, with enough new material for a waist. She closes and bolts the door, takes her sissors in hand, seats herself in a rocking-chair with the gown in her lap, and begins cheerfully to rock, rip, and sing. She finds it an easy task. The trimmings pull apart with pleasing rapidity, and she does not think thatitwill take her more than an hour to finish. Pretty soon, however, she comes to some machine-sewing which will not pnll, and has to be cut stitch by stitch. This is less agreeable, and presently she discovers that she has cut a hole in the cloth ; whereupon she concludes that music distracts the mind. She ceases to sing. Shortly after she finds that she has cut another hole, and then she ceases to rock. Soon she becomes aware that she is accompanying the motion of her scissors by a very unbecoming motion of a similar nature, and while she pauses to consider this phenomenon, she observes that her hand is stiff, and there is a sore, red ring round her thumb. Examination convinces her that if she does not stop immediately this will develop into a blister, and she lays aside her work for the day.

O.u the morrow she finishes ripping, spends a chilly, dusty hour in brushing the pieces at au open window, and then devotes herself to pleating ruffles. This is a labor of terrible length, but it is at last completed, and they are sewed again upon the skirt, which, for some mysterious reason, does not hang as well as it did before it was repaired. Then comes the crisis. She takes out her pattern and her scissors, and gazes upon the piece of fresh goods lying upon her bed. It is not until after half an hour’s distracted contemplation that she brings herself to the point of risking the first cut into it. Over the miseries that follow let us draw a veil. Let it suffice to add that when, a week later, she comes down to breakfast in the new-old dress, she wears a large fichu to cover the wrinkles in the front. A near inspection of one sleeve (both having been unfortunately cut for the same arm) reveals that it has been turned) and exhibits the wrong side of the cloth. When the family utter exclamations of surprise, she says jauntily that it’s nothing; she just patched

the thing up to wear mornings ; and hurried ly glides from the subject to ask her mother if she will teach her dress-making in earnest next spring. THE NOUVEAU CULTIVE. The nouveaux riches as a class have been a good deal before the public, and their appearance and habits, both in the wild state and under domestication, are pretty familiar to all keen observers of the wonders of natural history. But there is another class in modern society equally noteworthy and in some respects even more preposterous and disagreeable that seems to have escaped classification. It is that species of person whom we may denominate the nouveau cultive. Sprung from illiterate stock in some uncivilised region, he has suddenly been plunged into an accidental penumbra of culture when well along in years. He has been 4 caught late.’ He has, accordingly, a most vivid appreciation of those things which seem to him to mark the difference between his present advanced position and his previous backward state. The little that he now knows is very conspicuous to him and to his relatives. His faith in certain second-rate makers of public opinion, especially since he has travelled and has seen the building where these powerful things are produced, is very touching. He has religious convictions concerning the greatness of Washington Irving and Fitz-Greene Halleck, and perhaps of Young, Pollock and Mrs Hemans. He has read that Jeffrey said to Macaulay : 4 Where did you get that style ?' and he, too, wonders where such a magnificent thing could have been found.

Sometimes he copies passages, in hopes to acquire it for his own contributions to the country paper. He loves to quote from 4 quaint old ’ this one and that one ; and has bought, but not yet read, a copy of Chaucer, because, as he is proud to explain to his family, he was a ‘well of English undefyled.’ His wife has presented to .him a brief handbook of the history of art, and they have learned a good many of the dates. This gives them a contempt for the plain people who like and tack up wood-cuts, and still take comfort in Christmas cards. They have read a little of 4 Dant,’ not without some secret struggles with the ‘ Italian ’ names ; and greatly commiserate those who have not the advantage of familiarity with 4 Doar’s ’ great illustrations.

All this is before the nouveau cultive moves to the city. At that epoch the interesting creature enters on a second stage of development, but still very late. If the first was that of the larva, this is that of the chrysalis ; but it is too far along in the season ever to produce a perfect butterfly. If the larva was active and aggressive, the ohrysalis is appropriately cold and impassive. It has acquired a shell, and has a glazed expression of countenance, indicative of mysterious processes going on within. The man has mastered the code of dress, equipage and etiquette; and so lately that he is greatly impressed with these things, makes his daughters and nieces shed tears for their errors, and rarely misses himself.

He not only acquires the correct pronunciation of ‘clever,’ with the genuine imported chiar-oscuro of the final syllable, but he learns to apply the word to the proper books and persons, and does this with almost painful frequency. He is wonderfully sure of the received verdicts on works of literature and art. If you happen to question any of them, or intimate a preference for some new man, it is comical, and yet a little vexing, for all your philosophy, to see how your lifelong weariness of the old orthodox judgment is taken for that ignorance of it from which he himself has so lately emerged. On the other hand it is with an exquisitely benevolent condescension that he gives you the last twaddle as superseding your view of some one of the immortals.— October Atlantic.