THE LADIES' COLUMN.

Tuapeka Times, Volume I, Issue 46, 26 December 1868, Page 6

THE LADIES' COLUMN.

MO'DEEJf YOUNG LADIES. Tlie " Saturday Beview " has an able article on the mothers of the future, referring to the young ladies, the writer says : — '• Iler main endeavour is to outvie her neighbours in the extravagance of fashion. No matter whether, as in the time of crinolines, she sacrificed decency, or, as. now, in the time of trains, she sacrifices cleanliness. The girl of the period has done away with such moral muffishncss as consideration for others, or regard for counsel or rebuke. It was all very well in old-fashioned times, when fathers and mothers had some authority, and were treated with respect, to be tutored and made to obey, but she is far too fast and flourishing to be stopped in mid-career by these slow old morals. As she dresses to please herself, she does not care if she displeases everyone else." But does she please herself after all ? A man is a miserable creature who lives for himself alone, and a girl has not the resources of a man. In her course of self-gratification she" loses not only purity of taste but also " that far more precious purity and delicacy of perception which sometimes mean more than appears on the surface" : — " What the demi-monde does in its frantic efforts to excite attention she also does in imitation and then wonders that men sometimes mistake her for her- prototype, or that mothers of gills not so far gone as herself refuse her as a companion for their daughters. She has blunted the fine edges of feeling so much that she cannot understand why she should be condemned for an imitation of 'form which does not include imitation of fact. She cannot be made to see that modesty of appearance and virtue ought to be inseparable, and that no good girl can afford to appear bad, under penalty of receiving the contempt awarded to the bad." "When the fine edges of feeling become blunted, the moral sense is benumbed, the girl is led " to bold talk, to the lpye of pleasure and in difference to duty, to the desire of money before either love or happiness, to uselessness at home, dissatisfaction with monotony of ordinary life, and horror of all useful work, In a word, to the worst forms of luxury and selfishness, to the moßt fatal effects arising from the want of high principle and absence of tender feeling." Useless as a girl, of what use can she be as a woman ? She may say, " I can reform when I am married." But she cannot. The vitiated mind and heart can no more recover its original purity and grandeur than the steps of a wanderer upon the sea sands can be retraced when the tide has set full upon the shore. Men do not like to marry now, because ' they are afraid of the girls qS the present day, and with reason, \\ They may amuse themselves with a girl for one evening, but they do not take her readily for life." The reviewer, who thus rebukes the follies of the fair, observes, with commendable feeling, " It is truly significant of the present state of things when men are free to write as they do of the women of their own nation. Every word of censure flung against them is twoedged, and wounds those who condemn as much as those who are condemned, for surely it need hardly be said that men hold nothing so dear as the honour of their women, and that no one living would willingly lower the repute of his mother or his sisters." These are good words, and let them be pondered in ,the hearts of those to whom they apply. The new French law suppressing extravagant reports of the extravagance of Wutnen may imply . a sense of the dangeivto a nation of t the decay of femald.T-i'ftiesty and dis- } tow* 011 ' an< * soTit^^ be a first step -fon P feu " "■ desired^^Brination. For HHUk? Vkjs^j^^^^L 'lit be ■ I THE VENUS DE MEBlC^^^^^^^H All the dimensions mK^^^m are utterly inadmissible. The snilX poses, three-aeventbs of sft 2 ?n P sf mm

ORIGINAL TALE. 0 THE HOSTEL OF THE OKERTIIAL. John's yictoet. "Telling stories, have you?" said , the stranger. "Well, I suppose I must do my share." " John Smith is no very heroic name, yet it was the only one my hero had to boast of. Nor must we imagine that because the high-sounding names get the most credit they monopolise the courage and heroism of the world. As far as the mind transcends the body do mental victories surpass mere feats of bodily skill, strength, or daring. Encounters more appalling than the bloodiest field that ever satirized human brotherhood, and courage greater than the boldest Spartan could boast, are every day occurring in the secret closet of the thinker. You may believe, then, that the victory of which I am to tell you was none of your fire- works and mockthunder kind; but still a good fight was waged and a great victory gained. John Smith senior, father of our John? and James Jones were bosom friendsThey had begun life together, and through all its varied fortunes preserved their boyish intimacy. What wondei*, then, that when Mrs. Smith gave birth to a son, and Mrs. Jones to a daughter, the fathers should welcome the little strangers as a means of further cementing their friendship. And when the old fellows died, it was with no desire to injure their children that they left their property conditionally on Mary Jones and John Smith uniting in holy matrimony, and framed a provision by which the share of the one who might refuse went to the other. It was a cruel will, but so accustomed had the old people been to look on this union as a certainty, , so attached did their children appear, that they never dreamt of its possible severity. Time rolled on, and Mary had grown up to be a fair woman, and John a sturdy man, tall, broad-shoul-dered, with the honest sagacious face which betokens Danish descent. The two were very affectionate in a quiet brotherly sisterly manner, looking towards their marriage as a matter of course. John had inherited a good business from his father, and to this he attended " with all the quiet unassuming energy of his kind-; and Mary devoted her time to her sick mother. John always spent his evenings with his intended, and on one occasion a stranger accompanied him. ' Here is Paul Wilson, Mrs. Jones,' said he ; ' you know I have often told you of him,' 'Sit down, Mr. Wilson, sit down,' said the old lady. ' John is always talking about you.' ' And finds little good to say, I suppose/ said taking a seat. ' I have heard so much of you, Mr. Wilson," that I cannot help treating you as an old friend, by saying that remark looks like fishing for a compliment,' said Mrs. Jones. ' Thank you for the reception,' was the laughing reply. ' Permit me to justify myself.' And so the conversation went on in the light careless manner people who are not very well acquainted talk. Gradually Paul Wilson and Mary began to draw off from the general current and plunge into music and poetry, while Mrs Jones entertained John with an accduri^ of the successful amputation of her fts^mrite corn. Paul was a clever talker,—^^^Mf he had a fine voice, and was l^^^^ays strivingvto say good thin g> q -^^^^* had read a gtiocT deal, and alto^Hf was much supc-ilor "to^any youy&g iq Miss Mary KadgMtf^rjr^teredUoTe. Jolmwrs £o^'4^ \ !# 'A forte was listeninajtof ( j e ..j , y «ro> great |fe^H^^^^khj|g^ e 7ZTO'* speak his mark, and to JP nil's frothy elor real diamond is to' its' >o it is not aatonishW 4»t nr * 1

Mrs. Jones began to detect in the soft cadence of Paul's voice something more than friendship for her daughter. ' Mary, my dear/ said she, ' this will never do.' ' What will never do, mother ? ' 'This carrying on with Paul, my dear. You are exciting false hopes in the young man's breast.' Mary fired up at the insinuation. ' How can you be so cruel, mother,' she said ? you know he is John's friend.' ' And when you are married to John would you like him dangling after you?' It was the first time for months that the inevitable marriage had been spoken of, and for the first time Mary was conscious of her position. A light at once dawned on her, and, utterly dejected, she flung herself weeping at her mother's feet. ' Oh,' she moaned, 'I cannot help it ; I know it is wicked ; but I love him, mother, dearly, dearly. Pity me, mother dear.' The sound of a sob caused her to turn round, and there she saw John, who had been an accidental listener to her confession. He bore his sorrow as a man should, not with bravado, but with silent firmness. 'Do not be harsh to her,' he said, and left the room. In an hour or so Mrs. Jones came to him and administered consolation according to her lights as a woman. It was very well intentioned, and very irritating ; would have been very nice for a sick child, but was quite out of place when applied to a man suffering with all the intensity possible for humanity to endure. 'It was very sad; but marriages were made in heaven, you know ; aud Mary was young yet, and might change her mind.' Ah ! that was a straw for the drowning man to clutch at. She might alter; this might only be the whim of a romantic girl. So the mother was sent to sound the daughter ; but she soon returned ; the girl, who had hardly avowed her love to herself until startled into its betrayal, had given full vent to the long-smothered passion, and could think and speak of nothing but her own happiness. Still the mother, anxious about the fortune, hinted that a little pressure should be brought to bear. ' Leave me,' was all John said ; and ! alone in silence he fought a battle with himself. The temptation was a strong one : a little delay, and the influence of his more powerful nature, would soon efface the passion for Paul Wilson, Then his mind wandered away among the fairy unrealities of 'may be;' but he was not to depart from the nobler and worthier course for the sake of a day-dream. The struggle was hard; and when Paul rushed in, radiant, he was for a moment shocked at the haggard, care-worn appearance of his friend. But the happy are too much engrossed with their own pleasures to be very observant of the misery of others; so Paul at once plunged into an account of how he had proposed and been accepted, 'if John pleased ; ' ' and of course, old fellow,' said he, ' you can have no objection, even if you are her guardian, as I suppose.' ' I have none,' said John* very quietly. ' Take this, and for heaven's sake leave me.' Paul looked astonished, but went with the following document in his hand: I hereby renounce all claims to the hand and fortune of Mary Jones. John Smith. The struggle had been hard, but the victory was very complete, and he was even able to receive a visit from the young lovers. They were very profuse in acknowledgements ; he would always be their friend and brother; nay, a prospective godi'athership was hinted at. But the stroixg man smiled sadly, and went on his way unheeding. How their later iiistory shaped itself I cannot tell ; but I doubt not when the first heat was over Mary's and Paul's , gratitude was not quite so fervent. ( "tfc is really wonderful the facul|r some people have of forgetting beaMk So when baby was .bom, Mrs. Wilson wondering i^^^^^^^H would not prefer the lit^^^^^^^^M prettier name than hisf^^^^^^^^H one, — say Rupert or^^^^^^^^^H Aink I sef- the ?ad fc£^^^^^^H

County Antrim, Ireland, and were grandsons of the late Archbishop Mazer, the profound author of the standard work " Mazer on the Atonement," and nephews by marriage of the celebrated Hugh McNeill, of Liverpool. Coming out with letters of introduction to several of the leading persons in Auckland, they without difficulty obtained situations under Government. The elder brother, William, who was a student in Trinity College Dublin, when the Crimean war broke out, led'away by martial ardor, abandoned the cloisters of the University, and obtained a commission in a militia regiment, the Antrim Rifles, and after undergoing the regular course of training at Hythe, under Colonel Pitt, became Adjutant of the Antrim Rifles, in which capacity he served some five years. At the close of the Crimean war, when the militia were disbanded, Major Hunter, accompanied by his brother Henry, emigrated to this Province. The elder brother was, during the year 1862, assistant clerk in the Provincial Council, in which capacity he became known to and appreciated by many of our public men. After this he went down to Wellington to attend the first session of the General Assembly that was held there, and was on board the White Swan when she was wrecked. Those who were on board that steamer tell us how they saw then the' sterling stuff of which he was made. In the midst of the imminent danger of all on board, he was cool and collected and attentive to others, regardless of himself. So great was the efficiency with which he discharged his duties during the session at Wellington, that he was afforded permanent employment by the Hon. Mr. Bartley, the Speaker of the Upper House, as clerk assistant in that branch of the Legislature. But the war in Waikato breaking out in 1863, he flung his prospects in the civil service of the Colony to the wind, and was about the first to take service on behalf of the Province when the war was almost at our doors. Colonel Pitt was then engaged in raising the First Waikato Regiment, and William Hunter was at once gazetted Captain and Adjutant of that Regiment, which post he held till the force was disbanded a couple of years ago. While he held that post, we have been often told that although there were ten regiments of Her Majesty's regulars in the Colony, it was admitted by the military officers that there was no more efficient officer or more accomplished drill than William Hunter in the combined forces — Imperial and Colonial.

His younger brother, Henry, after serving a brief period in the Post Office Department in Hawke's Bay, also joined the First Waikato Regiment, and Served throughout the Waikato war, and afterwards in the Taranaki and Wanganui campaigns. His genial company endeared him to many, and none that knew him will ever forget the light-heartedness of one whose military career was emblematical of those " who march to death with military glee." Henry Hunter fell at Te Ngutu o te Manu, leaving a wife and one child. William Hunter fell a short time ago, leading what was on doubt a forlorn hope upon the Kotuka pa. Whatever tribute the Colony of New 7i? >'r-nd may hereafter pay to the men cry of these brave brothers, we ?ax> say ,liis at least, that their many fr'entU ia Auckland will long cherish the -ecol lection of them, and will ever e^mpr '. vise with the aged and widowed mo. .her, in the loss of her gallant sons.