Ladies' Column.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5056, 15 September 1894, Page 3

Ladies' Column.

» THE FATHER OF '94,

(By Leonardo inihe " Melbourne Argus.") " I hold it truth with him whosings [See Tennyson and H. A. Jones] That men mayriso on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher thiiigs." Civilised or savage reader, do you kuow what it ia to be a father ? I don't mean the author of the consecutive mats of dimples, wrinklea, and bib in the cracile that murmurs " goo-goo " to that work of art, the ceiling centrepiece, and fastens on to its indiarubher tube like a buah leech to the calf of your leg. No. The father I mean is a middle-aged gantlenian "run" for all he ia worth by a family of grown-up sons and daughters. His bald head, with' its rich reins, is the Coolgardie of the house-fly. He has lin aspect of perfect benevolence, a chain of timeencrusted habitG, wears the earne inako of collar he did twenty yeara ago, peers over his pince-nez like a gocso looking into a bottle, and calls hia wife "mother." This is the advanced father o£ the period. He baa been tied hand and foot to the /great Chariot of Social Progres 5, and rnuat bowl along with it. As the fatuily tersely put it, "If ho doesn't like it hemusblump it" — fcut move with the times he must. He ia the Mr Slerryman of the home tircu3, whoso business it ia "to jjo, for to come, for to fetch, for to carry " at the bidding of the youngest daughter or eldest son. At social flip-flaps he i3 by training an adept. He can cub an acquaintance slipping down the rungs of the society ladder with the name ease that he Kootoos to a climber above him, P.nd he knows by heart all the tricks of the herd who push for front seats at the entertainments of Dives. He is surprised at nothing that takes place around bira, and is so accustomed to startling situations and novel effects thafe he is prepared for any ground or lofty tumbling in or out of the family circle. His motto ia, " Peace wifch honour and a good cigar " at hh own fireside. . "Hook my bodice, dad, please," Baya hia youngest daughter (aged 18), dashing into the dining-room where, snug in the easy chair, he :3 g^ing through the debates. "Mother's too busy." For just a eecond he ig dazed. From the Budget to bodices is such a sudden transition that he faila to grasp the request oa the instant. But when he seas the tall, shapely form with its back to him, and the hooks and eyes glistening in the lamplight againsb the black silk, the idfla comes home to him, and he sat s to work with a will. "We shan't be late," continues his daughter, as the hooko are being gradually fitted iato their eyes. "You can come for ua about hal£~past eleven.- You needn'c put in an appearance unless you like, and don't smoke your horrid pipe near the house. It's sure to blow into the hall. And don'fc forget our wraps. Last time wo had to come home that bitter cold night without them, and it cost you something for chemists' bills. Tie the laceß tight — tighter. Don'o be afraid, they won't break." When the Jast knot is finished, and the ends tucked in, hia daughter pats him gently on his bald head. Then, with an adroit dive, she catches the end of her train and is off towards the door. Suddenly she wheels. She has thought of a way to "drag net" her leading parent. " Did you notice how shabby this dress is getting, father ? " "Is it, my dear ? Why, I thought ifc was a new one, it looked so nice." (Oh! the artfulness of the man.) " Why, I've had it ever since the Balbriggins* balJ, nearly eighteen months ago !" "Have you, though, my dear. And there's another eighteen months in it yet. If you get it done up a bit by Miss What's-her-n»ine with some bows and things, everyone will think it's a new one." " Easily, father, you're too ridiculous for anything. I'll ask mother if I CBn't have a hew one." " Couldn't you get it dyed blue or pink, or ?"• "Oh, father ! I think you're going dotty. Dye a black dreos light ! You must knew better than that !'"' With a Buperb curve of drapery she dashes from the room, closing the door with a bang learnt from her mother (we are all imitative creatures), and leaves the old gentleman once more to his Budget and tobacso duty. He thinks for a moment of a little book he once raad, " How to Dress on Nothing at all a Year Like a Kaffir, by a Kaffir," and then plunges into the stream of figures supplied by the treasurer. At breakfivßt next morning a masked battery is suddenly opened on him from headquarters. " George," says his wife, " we have some people coming to afternoon tea to-day. Will you be home at four to help P I want you to look after Mrs Cbigwell and Mrs Sennagall, and see that they get some tea and whatever they want in it. Now, don't forget. The last time you went playing the fool with Mra Dabchick, and filled bar eo full of strawberries and cream that she was ill for days after. Mr Dabchick didn't thank you for it, I can tell you." "And father," chimes in the eldest daughter, " don'fc forget to take the men in to have somo ' cold tea ;' we're going to put it in the breakfast-room wifch the tumblers and sods. " And don't laugh when Mißa Polydoie {dogs one of her sentimental songs, it's such bad form." " I know it vrsß.wrong', my dears, bat I really couldn't help ib. I was sitting at the side of the piano facing her, and she fixed me with her big saucer eyes through her spectacles as if I was really 'her own love, her lost lovo, her lova that lovsd her so-— ho — o— ho — o— o,' and then that nervous twifcehiug of the eye she has occurred, and it winked twice at me. You would have laughed, too, if you'd seen it/' " Well, there was surely no excuse for your shooting the two cups of tea and scones into Lady Babbloton's lap." " I was hardly to blame for that. You will keep your lampß covered with, those confounded red shade?, and my eight is | nob of the best now. Lady Babbleton had both her feefc stuck out, and I tried to clear them, but took off badly, didn't rise high enough, rapped, and lost the two cups." " And Mr Bingley is going to recite for ub agaic, George. 1 wonder h© ever darkens our door after your wrotchod I behaviour. Fancy (to daughters), after poor Mr Bingley telling uk he had daßhed I off a little thing of hia own, and reaiting j it, for your father to turn xonnd aod tell him ifc waß Tom Hood'p. Even supposicg it was, and the poor fellow had made a | mistake, be wa3 our guest and enterfcain- '. ing our friends, and you might have let it J pass. You'll never be liked by people. I * " Wouldn't it be better if I didn't put in an appearance at all. I'm alwa.yn malsiug such stupid mistakes. Or I might arrive in time to see them all Bate off the 1 premises." "That's so like your father. Leave it all to us to got through the best way we o*n. 7Ho, George, you mußt do your share. i You surely can do that without always • being clumsy. And try and make your- | solf pleasant. It's juiit as easy to say sweet things as bitter ones. You're quite old enough now to have a little tact." ***** At night the father of the period comes home tired and is mot at the door by the family in terror. " Oh ! do come nud Bpeak to Noran. We think she hau been taking a little too much; there's a bottle of brandy misaing and four bottles of ale. She is Bitting in the middle of the kitchen on the Bchnapper you sent home, anci ah© keaps on saying 'she feared this bliased Fridav; she feared this blissad toime!'" Itiß as the family fear. Noiah has been taking a little too much. When she eeos the " maether " Bhe begins to wail. Then commences the work of removal. The sohnapper is got safely away, and Norah is induced to go to her room and put on her walkiEg dress. This change boing safely nogotiated, ehe and her boxes are bundled into «. cab, nn<i with her wagoa m> to <U\t,fi~ for she was a good sevvanfc when thoroughly sober— ahe goes the way dozens have gone before, back to the regiatry offioe^with a byword for the place where

— : . . -- they expect a "poor gurl to be alwayo wurrkin." After her departure tha five empty bottles are found under her bed in company with a fifth, a stranger, black and square with an anchor brand on if. No wonder tho time Bhe had waa a " blißsed one." . : Sometimes when the family are " all out" and he baa finished his paper he begins to think. His thoughts, mayhap, will go back to his father, and he remembers the different atate of things that exiated in the home- be was reared in. Other times, other manners. Hio father's word in the household was law. He epofee an one haviDga, tight hold of authority, and even the eldest eon never dared dispute the, dictum cf the " governor." As for one of the girlß presuming to " sit on him," the idea would have bean too wild to be thought o£ outside a lunatic asylum. He doubts the wisdom of. the "abolition of atmosphere" between parent and child. "When in doubt," said a famous physician, " try brandy and water," and he does so. If the father has been " nice " during the week he ia taken by the family to & "problem" or "symbol" play on Saturday night. He discovers it to be the old play with the safotyrpin taken out of it. He also notes mauy other changes. The "new woman," he finds, in the old woman let loose the "newgirl" only the sweet old girl cigaretted and slanged, the "new push" the old "6et" ecandaliaed, the " new Johnnie " the o!d swell re-tailored, the "new plot" only the "old plot" adulterated. He also learns that conscience ia a luxury, love a- name for an extinct emotion, and that a maiden is merely s girl with a purpose — "Where are you going to, my pretty maid? Going aJccturine, eii, she saicl. "What is the subject, my prfitty maid ? The painless extinction ot'inan, she said." . Going home in the train ho forms himself into a surprise party, and mentions these discoveries of his while sitting at the play. When he haa finished he is curtly informed by hia eldest son, a wondrous youth of twenty golden auniinere, "lhab every schoolboy knows thosa things." Perhaps so, he muses. But could any mortal man " know what every schoolboy knows " — and live ?