"The Distaff."

Waikato Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2265, 15 January 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

"The Distaff."

A GEM OF A HOSTESS. How to make one's guests comfortable and happy is a problem that will always knot the brows of your conscientious hostess. A writer in Figaro describes a gem of a hostess in these appreciative words :— 'I am just now—with my married sister and her husband—sharing the hospitality of a most charming chatelaine in the West of England ; and, although we have only been in the house a couple of days, it is already apparent that the hostess made the entertainment of her guests a serious study, which she has undertaken with complete success. From the moment we arrived at the country roadside station, where a carriage was waiting for us and a cart for the luggage, every want and wish had been thoughtfully anticipated. My bedroom is a perfect gem—so cosy, so comfortable, and yet so pretty, and everything in such good taste. My writing-table is eimply delightful—plenty of stationery of all kinds, good pens, sealing-wax, matches, a taper—nothing has been forgotten. There is even an ornamental card, framed like a photograph, with the time of the arrival and departure of the local post on it. Not only is the fire always burning rightly when Igo to bed, but it is ; lighted again quite early, almost noiselessly, long before I get up, and kept in all day, now that it is rainy and chilly. Then there is a bright little copper kettle always on the hearth, ready for use should I want hot water, and just enough flowers to make a room gay, and chosen carefully too, so that their scent may not be offensive or dangerous. The early cup of tea, brought about 8 o'clock on a light little tray with a spotless white napkin, a tiny jug of fresh cream, and a. couple of slices of thin and crisp bread and butter, is of course not a novelty ; but the small tin of new mixed biscuits, and the glass of milk which I find placed by my bedside each night constitute a new experience, and are another proof of our hostess's ingenious thoughtfulness on her guests' behalf. And so it has been all day long. Every hour has brought fresh instances of her desire to anticipate every possible wish.' "THE MEN." Miss Kate Field is the new planet—or, rather, the old planet in a new place. She made a light speech after a dinner given the other night by a local post of the Grand Army of the Republic which would have secured her the chary applause of the most exacting after-dinner critics. She was asked to respond to the highly original toast: " The Men." She said : " When the Commander of this gallant post invited me to be present this evening I accepted with pleasure, as some of my dearest friends belong to the Grand Army. But when your Commander blandly insinuated that he wanted me to say something I hesitated, as there was nothing for me to talk about, all the toasts having been assigned to eloquent speakers. Then it occurred to me thatl might say a good word for the men, God bless them ! They have so long toasted the women as to make it but fair that they at last should be toasted by a woman. They have too long had the field to themselves. For nearly (5000 years they have been talking. But as there is as much sex in mind as there is in matter we have seen all things in profile. Now, an artist will tell you that the two sides of the face are not exactly alike. I pray, therefore, let us have the other profile around our campfire whereby we may see the entire face, gaze upon the tell-tale eyes, and thus get at the soul of all things. Pray, who does the greater part of speaking in private, Mr or Mrs Caudle ? Were I a man I should hail public speaking by women as blessing in disguise.'