CHIT CHAT.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1354, 10 February 1898, Page 15

CHIT CHAT.

One would have hardly thought that Edna Lyall would come out as an apologist for and champion of the actor’s profession, but so she does in her novel “ Wayfaring Men," the hero of which is a young gentleman who becomes a member of a travelling theatrical company. It is a very good story, one of Longman’s Colonial series, and I can recommend it to my readers. Miss Lyall has evidently drawn “Mr Washington," one of her characters, from Sir Henry Irving, and a paper called “ Veracity," is of course meant for Mr Labouchere’s Truth , To one of her characters she gives the name Lady “ Dunlop Tyars " —a clever testimony to the power of the cycle mania.

The height of a person with a “ perfect figure" should be exactly equal to the distance between the tips of the middle fingers of either hand when the arms are fully extended. Ten times the length of the hand, or seven and a half times the length of the foot, or five times the diameter of the chest from one armpit to che other, should also give the height of the whole body. The distance of the junction of the thighs to the ground should be exactly the same as from that point to the crown of the head. The knee should be exactly midway between the firstnamed point and the ground at the heel. The distance from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger should be the'same as from the elbow to the middle line of the breast. From the top of the head to the level of the chin should be the same as from the level of the chin to that of the armpits, and from the heel to the toe.

A writer in the Lady's Realm, .thus refers to the craze for wearing charms which is at present' raging in the Old Country : “ The modern girl is not happ unless she is wearing half-a dozen charms bestowed upon her by various dearest friends. A logwood pig with ruby eyes, a four-leafed shamrock in a gold-rimmed case, a sixpence riddled with a gem, and a hundred other quaint conceits, are to be seen at every jeweller’s as “ lucky charms." The idea is a pretty one. and shows the growing love for the poetic and mystic in our practical country. ‘ Perhaps the most favourite ornaments of the moment are rings. We think they must be considered quite the best-beloved gewgaws of the feminine sex ; whereas a few years ago it was considered bad taste to sport more than three or the hands, the smart woman'to day can put on a dozen."

Mr William Watson, the poet, whose “Wordsworth’s Grave" and, in later style, “ Purple East" have won him fame, has quite a genius for pretty similes. In his “ Hope of the World, and Other Poem’s," a collection just published, I notice the following fine stanza in an “ Ode to May " What is so sweet and dear As a prosperous morn in May, The confident prime of the day, And the dauntless youth of the year, When nothing t hat asks foi bliss, asking aright, is denied, And half of the world a bridegroom is, And half of the world a bride?

And the triumph of him that begot, And the travail of her that bore, Behold, they are evermore As warp and weft in our lot. We are children of splendour and flame, Of shuddering, also, and tears, Magnificent out of the dust we came, And abject from the Spheres.

In a recent issue of the London Spectator there appeared an article on “ Nagging," from which we take the following extracts : —On the surface it would seem both that violent temper was more frequent in men than in women, and that the life of a man was more of the kind to aggravate the temper than that of a woman. Undeniably, nagging is a fault of temper, yet it is far more common among women than men; how is the paradox to be explained ? In a domestic dispute it is usually the lady ayvill have the “ last word." Isolated moes of this CQUlfl easily be borne,

but that would not be nagging in its proper sense. It is the daily* hourly infliction of a rough, irritable tongue, from whose perpetual wagging escape seems hopeless which constitutes real nagging. It has the effect, after a time, of driving the meekest man to something like desperation, and he goes out to the publichouse, or walks in the rain, or mends his fence to get away from that weariful curse. Now, why should Nature have, nineteen times out of twenty, so contrived things that it is the woman rather than the man who causes this distressing experience ? It is not an accident; there is some definite reason for it, and the reason lies, we think, in the physical difference of the sexes, and the different life-experience of each sex.

Women, continues the Spectator, are born with a different nervous organisation from that of men. While they are probably less susceptible to severe pain of many kinds than are men, and therefore give an appearance at times of greater courage (as in the dentist’s chair), their nerves are essentially weaker, and therefore less capable of prolonged strain than those of men. Now the daily lives of many, if not of most, women do demand no little strain on the nervous system. A few women are rich, secluded, with no occupation, and with a legion of attendants to minister to every want. The poor sometimes envy them, but they are not to be envied, for they are the victims of settled “ ennui, " which shows itself in all kinds of nervous disorders. Disordered nerves and a vacant life bring our latent infirmities of temper, and a woman who might have been bright, eager, affectionate, becomes peevish, fretful, faultfinding, disturbed by a zephyr, agitated by a crumpled rose-leaf. For a poor burdened woman of work who exhibits faults of temper, much allowance can easily be made ; but we find it hard to make any for a peevish, nagging woman surrounded by every object of luxurious desire. And yet probably the one needs the charitable pardon of her exasperated fellow-creatures no less than the other.

Some interesting pictures of the Czarina of Russia are given in a London paper. The writer says :—To the outside world the empress is a cold, haughty woman, with a stately repose as calm as a statue. She has made few real friends in the court circle because of the many she has enforced in customs of long standing. But in private life she is another woman ; coldness and stateliness vanish, giving way to good humour and genial pleasantries. The Czarina is a very tall woman, perhaps sft Bin or 9 inches in height, and her erect carriage makes her seem even taller. Her husband is a good two or three inches shorter. Her complexion is of unusual fairness, her features regular and her large eyes are of a dark grayish blue. She has one tiny imperfection, a small mole at the corner of the mouth. Her voice is low and deep, almost like that of a tragedy queen, but when she laughs she breaks into a musical falsetto. When she was Princess Alix of Hesse her surroundings were comparatively poor for a personage of royal blood, and many economies were necessarily practiced of which the outside world knew next to notning. She has lived in an English lodging house, and what is more, she sent the owner of that house a magnificent gift shortly after her marriage. The change from comparative poverty to empress of the most splendid court in the world was indeed a change. To picture the magnificence of the Russian court would be a work of years. The wealth of centuries of nobles, the treasures of unnumbered rulers of Asiatic kingdoms, the riches torn from hundreds of millions of servile subjects for generation after generation, and all accumulated and accumulating form an aggregation of wealth that is immeasurable.

But the Czarina, it appears, cares little for all this magnificence. The furnishings of the empress’ private apartments show clearly her desire to be rid of the presence of overpowering riches. A broad, comfortable sofa is covered with ordinary cretonne, and the bedroom crockery is plain and cheap. The chairs of oak are simple in design. There is no wealth of gold and silver in these rooms, everything being sacrificed to simplicity and comfort. When she can avoid it the czarina does not live in the Winter Palace, because of its grandeur, and for the same reason she avoids the Kremlin at Moscow. A dozen miles out from this city, at Tsarskoe Selo, is a nest of royal palaces, and in another direction about the same distance there is another nest at Peterhof. Her favourite

abode is a small and seoluded mansionjin Peterhof park. Another favourite small palace, the Alexander, iff-the Woods of Tsarskoe Selo, near the great Summer Palace, 800 feet in length, built by Catherine 11. There she enjoys strict privacy, and with her baby daughter Olga, lives the undisturbed life of the ordinary woman.

Do not coddle your children, for it is a great mistake, and one that is bound to result in great delicacy and discomfort. Boys are often made delicate by over-care-ful mothers. Girls are still more frequently protected from every blast that blows as though it would kill them instead of helping to make them strong and healthy. To mothers of young children I would say send your children out in all weathers but heavy rain, unless they are weak in the chest, then remember that an east wind will do your child no good. A great evil in training girls is that they are not taught to use their muscles. They should do so in moderation, and there will be little fear of “ strained backs," or any other mischief.

The Duke and Duchess of York have not, so far, found it necessary to be so rigorous as are the other members of the Royal family when the delicate question arises of what presents to accept for their infant royalties, “ little David, Bertie and the It need hardly be said, however, that nothing in the shape of a disguised advertisement is allowed to penetrate into the York House nurseries —no “ patent foods ”or “ unique rattles," can hope to effect an entrance, but gifts obviously kindly and disinterested in origin, are not rejected. Thus, each Royal child rejoices in a most beautiful quilt, embroidered in imitation of one of the famous Mecca curtains woven in Jerusalem ; many of the legends from the Koran are reproduced in the design, and they are of historical interest aud beauty.

A woman’s daily paper is to be started in Paris. The foundress is Madame Marie Durand, late of the Theatre Francaise. She will call her paper La Fronde. She hopes,the offices will be the-rallying point of all Frenchwomen struggling for the extension of their rights. Madame Durand is amply provided witff,gapital. Her offices are almost luxuriously furnished in a house that will be entirely devoted to business. She has arranged to supply La Fronde gratis to all the school-mistresses of France for a certain time. All the printing and other work (says a Daily News telegram) wilD be done by women. One man only will be illowed on the premises the floorpolisher. But nobody will see him. He will polish floors from one to eight in the morning. The women printers asked for sfr. a day, but Madame Durand gives them Bfr., the wage of the male printer.

Miss Ellen Terry was one of the pioneers of feminine cycling, and one of the earliest ladies’ wheel clubs started in Great Britain was presided over for a long time by the popular Miss Terry is a great believer in physical exercise. She is one of the many people who spend a sleepless night unless they have managed to procure a good walk during the preceding day.

The author of “ Made in Germany ’» has been writing upon the Christmas putting so loved by Britons all over the world, but especially prized in the motherland as fit companion for the roast beef of Old England. Mr Williams shows that hardly a crumb is home-born in the majority of puddings. Even the basin in which the first toilet is made, and the pudding cloth into the bargain, are suspect. In Great Britain the bulk of the flour used comes from abroad, as come the butter and the eggs, the lemon peel, currants, raisins and almonds. Altogether the poor Christmas pudding seems in danger of being a foreigner. Yet Mr Williams shows that many of the ingredients are being produced in ever larger quantities by parts of the British Empire. Spices, dairy produce, wheat and fruit are taking their place as products from lands under the flag; and in time it will happen that most of-the Christmas puddings have British soil behind them.