Men and Women.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVIII, Issue III, 16 January 1897, Page 61

Men and Women.

■ HIE following suggestions for caring for shoes will I appeal to the thrifty and dainty In the first place, as soon as you come in during bad weather take off your shoes and fill them with dry oats, which will quickly absorb all the moisture and prevent the leather from losing its shape. Be particularly careful not to put your shoes near the fire. The next day take out the oats, which may be dried and made to serve again. If you do not like the idea of using oats, stuff your shoes with fine paper, which answeis the same purpose. Paraffin will soften leather which has been hardened by water, and restore its suppleness. A mixture of cream and ink is an excellent thing to rub on ladies’ fine kid boots. To keep your boots from creaking, rub the soles with linseed oil. You may do this more thoroughly by letting the soles rest on a dish containing a little of the oil, which will be absorbed by the leather, and in addition to stopping the creaking, will make the shoes impermeable to snow and water. Another way to keep out water is to heat the soles slightly, then rub them with copal varnish and let them dry. Repeat this operation three times, and you can go into the wet with impunity.

I had heard (says an American) much of the thrift of French housewives of the wage-earning class, and desiring to become acquainted with the details of their home life, persuaded a vivacious matron of my acquaintance to make me a third in her family for a day or two. My friend’s flat consisted of three rooms on the fourth floor. It was not pleasant to be aroused at six in the morning, nor was it pleasant to dress in a room, the cold stone floor and damp walls of which suggested some ancient dungeon. However, I had earnestly sought this very privilege, so strove to appear cheerful. In the kitchen I found madame preparing coffee over a tiny alcohol stove. Monsieur, a cooper by trade, was arrayed in his working blouse. Three earthenware bowls and a loaf of coarse bread were set on the bare table. The coffee was drunk without sugar or milk, the bread eaten without butter. Before going to the factory, madame disposed of the kitchen work by simply rinsing the bowls and coffee pot in cold water. She said we would ‘ make ’ the chambers at the noon intermission. Everybody takes two hours at mid-day for dejeuner, and the family returned at eleven o’clock. I wondered how my hostess was going to cook a meal, for in the small kitchen the only approach to a stove was a tiny stone receptacle for charcoal, built out from the chimney. Even this was not used by these people. They bought cooked food at shops in the vicinity. Madame invited me to go shopping with her. We bought a quart of vin ordinaire for eight cents, a loaf of bread for four cents, a quart of bouillon for ten cents, and a plate of hot spinnach for six cents. Then we went home to prepare the meal.

Woman as commercial traveller is the subject of an article in Woman's Life. It looks, says the writer, as though the 1 lady commercial ’ had come to stay. A dozen years ago she was an unknown quantity. To-day the bagman is fast being superseded by the bagwoman, and it requires no very great stretch of imagination to foresee the time when the commercial-room—that crowning glory of the old-time village hostelry—shall be transformed into a dainty boudoir-like apartment, with afternoon tea and cakes taking the place of whiskies-and-sodas and cigars. True, not every woman is born to achieve success in the commercial line. In this calling, more, perhaps, than in any other, that terrible principle of the ‘ survival of the fittest ’ is carried out in all its original hideous simplicity. In other words, the race is to the swift, and the battle to the strong. Nor are the qualifications necessary to the prosecution of her calling either common or easy of attainment. She must know how to speak and how to be silent; when to retreat and when to advance ; and she must, above all, possess that intuitive sense of the applicability or otherwise of general rules to individual cases, without which all her other attainments are but as tinkling brass and sounding cymbals. She must also be blest with a goodly share of what—for want presumably of a belter word—is generally designated ‘ assurance.’ As a general rule a buyer will not do business with a traveller —whether man or woman—who blushes, hesitates, and stammers.

There are three reasons which account for the frequency with which women marry scamps. Firstly, strange to say, a scamp is very often possessed of a handsome exterior, and attractive, plausible manners; he is generally eloquent, and scarcely ever shows lack of self-possession. These are traits which somehow do not always belong to good men, whose depth of feeling and earnestness of purpose sometimes prevent them from showing at their best. Secondly, some women are attracted by the unknown and mysterious, and the very

fact of a ‘ blackened past ’ in a scamp's career onlyserves to excite their interest; interest soon merges into liking, and liking into love. Again, there is a class of women who, though deploring their sins, feel an intense desire to reclaim the sinner. They are filled with an enthusiasm to turn this black sheep at least into a passable grey, and this is the worst mistake of all.

Strong-scented flowers are objectionable to most people, but they have nearly proved the death of an American actress. Having received a huge hamper of violets from an admirer she put the flowers in vases in her bedroom at night and closed her windows. Next morning she was found in a state of collapse, poisoned by the powerful perfume of the violets, and the doctors had the greatest difficulty to bring her back to consciousness.

An enterprising girl has made for herself quite a name, and is doing good business, as a trunk packer. She gets to know what families are going away, then she calls on them and offers her services, arranging a time convenient to the mistress for the work.

It is suggested that impoverished ladies should take up piano-tuning. The work would be light and pleasant, and no more monotonous than other work one could name.

Queen Victoria buys all her coffee from a grocer at Cannes. It came about in this way. When her Majesty was at Grasse some years ago she was struck by the excellence of the coffee, and finding it had been bought at a local English tradesman’s shop, she promptly made him her purveyor.

In Egypt Lord Cromer is known as * the man with the white hat.’ He always appears in public wearing a white 1 topper.’ In private life he affects blue glasses—not because his eyesight is weak, but because it is difficult to read a man through coloured glasses.

The Countess of Wemyss, who died recently, was a somewhat notable figure in London's fashionable world, not only for her kindness and hospitality, but for her sound common sense. A passage in her will relating to the manner in which she desired her funeral service to be conducted is distinctly interesting. It runs as follows : — 1 I particularly wish that no undertaker should have anything at all to do with the management beyond providing the coffin, which I desire should be made as plain as it is possible to make it. I wish the coffin to be laid on the frame of a farm cart or lorry, covered over with a purple or some colour, not black, so-called pall, and drawn by four horses, led by their own drivers, and I should like to be carried to the grave by such friends, workers on the estate, as are willing to do so. I hope that blinds will not be drawn or crape worn, and that there will be as little outward sign of mourning as possible. I hope these wishes will not be looked upon as in any way eccentric. They are not so. They are simply the expressions of a feeling that pomp and expenditure in funerals are unbecoming, and that death at the end of a long and happy life is more a matter of thankfulness and rejoicing than of lamentation or woe.’