AS SEEN THROUGH ROMAN'S EYES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue XVIII, 3 November 1900, Page 849

AS SEEN THROUGH ROMAN'S EYES.

Women and Shopping.

“ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS” TO BE MET WITH IN A DAY’S SAUNTER THROUGH THE STORES.

Some persons think shopping is a delightful occupation. To others it is a synonyme for intense weariness, both of spirit and flesh. “Will you come shopping with me to-day?” is an invitation that may be given as a favour, and accepted with alacrity or with groans of dread, as the case may be.

There are several varieties of shoppers. There is the woman who loves shopping for the sake of the shopsand their displays. She rarely buys. Then there is the other woman who loves to buy things just for. the sake of spending money; it does not matter whether the goods purchased are for herself or not, so long as she can buy pretty things. Another woman avoids the shops, saying: “I never go into the shopping districts until I am forced to. I buy everything I can by mail. I simply detest the jostling and the waiting, both to be served and for change.”

The last shopper is the woman who earns her livelihood thereby in purchasing for persons living out of town.

Observe the woman who loves shopping for its own sake, as she approaches the richly laden counter whereon are spread the newest marvels in silks and satins. How her eyes glisten with eager interest, and her fingers ache to be feeling these enticing goods.

See that exquisite satin, of a soft shell pink tone. Already she sees herself arrayed in it. She knows how it shall be made —low in the neck, with folds of chiffon to soften it where it meets her white skin; a full skirt

with bands of lace. Shall she wear a lace fichu and lace sleeves, with a rose stuck carelessly in her hair, or shall

“Can I get you anything, madam?” asks the insinuating salesman, noting the love light in her eyes as she dreamily watches the fabric. “How much a yard is that soft satin —the new pink—that one there hanging up above the shelves?” she asks earnestly. The amiable shopman reaches up with alacrity, disengages the coveted material from its fellows below and above, and bears it to her in triumpji. A moment while he examines the price ticket, another while he calls in the aid of a brother of the counter to-de-cipher the hieroglyphic, and then he is able to inform her.

“Only 8/6 a yard, and wonderfully reasonable when you think of the quality. One of the season’s newest silk weaves,” he, says. He unrolls it, and with nimble fingers exhibits its luxuriant colouring in rich folds. “Just feel the quality, madam; it’s all of the purest silk; a treasure, madam, really a treasure,” and he sighs over it and looks as if he scarcely likes to part with it. He is an enthusiast at his profession, and seemingly convinces each customer that every piece of stuff he fingers is the newest, most elegant, and, at the same time, the best value for the money that is to be found anywhere in the city.

The woman, with longing eyes and hands caressing the satin that is beyond her purse, says regretfully, “It is beautiful, enchanting, but I am sorry it is so dear. It is much dearer than I wanted. Have you the same thing, only cheaper?” He represses all scorn in his tone as he tells her: “It wouldn’t be the same thing if it were cheaper,” whereupon she reluctantly turns her head from the fascinating fabric and strolls

along to the next shop and a new victim.

The dread of the salesman is the sample collector. In most shops it is made a rule not to give samples after 10 a.m., but this seldom daunts the collector, and she will resort to all kinds of ruses, which generally succeed x too. Her favourite form of pleading is: “Can’t you possibly cut a scrap for me off of that green goods? I want to send it to a friend of mine out of town”; or, “Please give me a bit of that trimming. I’ve got to catch a train,” etc. Anyone who, for whatever reason, frequently makes a tour of the shops, hearing and observing, cannot fail to become possessed of the idea that the high-class shopman is actually the embodiment of all the chivalry which crowned the flower of knighthood in the days of King Arthur. The salesman says that there is a great deal of difference in customers. “Some of them give us a great deal of trouble, but. then, that is all in the day’s work. What riles me is being frowned at as if I were an idiot if 1 cannot guess at what they want or do not show it at once. I don’t mind showing the things to someone who does not want to buy anything: that I am accustomed to. and, besides, one feels a pleasure in showing- a pretty thing to an appreciative customer. No, that is not what I mind, but I like a little civility in return. They know we daren’t answ<4. whatever they may say and do. and some of them seem to take advantage of this knowledge.”

The salesman is an apt reader of human nature, and the customer may reside in the heart of the “swell set.” but he will guarantee to tell if she be mushroom or oak. He says: “The one treats you as if you were an automaton and the scum of the earth, while the other smiles pleasantly and thanks you prettily.” So one can lift another’s service out of servitude.

BThe Marrying and the Married.

MARTHAS AND MARYS. A well regulated, sensible Martha la a great comfort in a house. Even supposing she has but the Martha qualities she can be an inestimable blessing. She is ••careful and troubled,” but it is in a quiet way, without fuss. She does not raise her voice unduly, and if she scolds her servants you do not hear her. She does not discuss her servants. and you never know when they are going or coming until you see a strange face, and this happens generally at long intervals, as one marries, or leaves for some equally respectable reason. You are not afraid of interrupting Martha, for she will not be interrupted, but secludes herself until such time as her domestic machinery is well oiled and running smoothly for the day. Not until then will she appear either to talk with you or walk with you—- “ Mistress of herself, though China fall!” Nothing distracts her. She is not suddenly seized with a misgiving that she has forgotten something. Against this she takes the precaution of a small note book as aid to memory, and she has always at table an ivory tablet ready to check any forgettings —her own and other people’s. When you visit her you know your sheets will be well aired and your morning tea not forgotten. MARTHA’S MOTHER. Where Martha rules nothing is forgotten. She makes it a duty to remember everything, so that the comfort of everybody comes into her duty, and is not dependent upon affectionate impulse. This woman’s very affections take the form of duty. It is practical Love —not the spasmodic, weak-kneed emotion we all know so well. Add to such training and capacity a wide mind and a large heart, and no one can surpass her, not even the virtuous woman made famous by Solomon. Her price is far above rubies, and ber best reward is that her husband shall appreciate his crown. I have met her sometimes, and ■ never without feeling I must humbly kiss the hem of her garment. The combination is rare—for is it not one of the goodliest things yet made? —but it exists. It exists to dignify all domesticity, to exalt the meanest office, and to justify the humblest aspiration. There are very few women who cannot be trained to govern a home, if they will but be in earnest and set their minds to it. I do not believe even now, in these days 'of high-class cookery lessons, that women realise how much the success of a marriage depends upon their efficiency in house matters. They are too busy in other ways, with sport and amusement, or society, or good works. All laudable in their way, but absolutely secondary to the emphatic obligation laid upon one in becoming a wife. You married your husband to make him happy. You are under a solemn contract t.o do so. And although this {means that you must be a Mary as well as a Martha, yon will never satisfy him or yourself unless you determine to cultivate the Martha from the very beginning. If you begin by leaving things to servants because you happen to have so many and pay them so much, the chances are your housekeeping— I mean their housekeeping—will be a failure. To do it yourself takes more time at first, but it means eventually that yon will have much more leisure for your own self-culture and recreation than as if you were always pursued by the sub-eonscibusness of this thing neglected, the other forgotten, and the certainty of a fresli worry waiting for you round the corner. AN INTERESTING THING. You will say, perhaps, that good housekeepers are dull and uninteresting, and that you do not want to be for ever thinking of your house as they do. I admit the accusation is sometimes justified. But housekeeping itself is not uninteresting, and properly done it leaves you more free, and need not fetter you—no more, I mean, than all human obligations fetter one. It is a nettle you must grasp firmly unless you wish to be stung into the remembrance of it. You cannot escape it.

If you desire ample time for other things rise betimes and let your maids know that you are awake and that you

expect them to be. Many a precious hour will you save thereby, not only for yourself, but for them. A woman once confessed to me that her failure as a housekeeper was due almost entirely to her lie-a-bed proclivities, because her maids followed her example, lost time, and had to be chased round for the rest, of the day.

By all means rise early, but do not be a virtuous nuisance. Ther are plenty of women who rise early and assiduously apply themselves all day to domestic duties, but they are not good housekeepers, neither are they comfortable to live with. Well we know them—all Martha, and yet all incompetence. There is a right way of doing- everything, and they just miss it. A Pitfall to Mothers and Maids. We never dream of disputing the above statement —it is so completely true, and herein lies the pitfail for both mothers and maids. ’Tis such pleasure to see Kate in her exquisitely pretty gown that it is no pain to enlarge the borders of our economies in order to pay an extravagant bill; and yet the very thing to which we trust to draw her admirers as with cords keeps them at a distance. They have sisters. They have some little inkling as to what women’s attire costs. They groan inwardly at the thought of paying Kate’s bills. No, they decide, it can't be done. Alas! the girl who makes all her own dresses fares no better. Any woman present could tell that her gown only cost fourpence halfpenny a yard, and that her hat was furbished up during the sales; but she knows how to care for her clothes, and also how to wear them. Consequently she utterly outshines all the other girls, and the mere man, having no sisters, and never dreaming that his goddess had sat up for hours at her machine and burned the midnight oil in order to appear pleasing in his sight, heaves a heart-broken sigh and regrets more

than ever that his banking account so often balances on the wrong side of the ledger. It must cost more than ever he could afford to buy gowns like that, he thinks.

Truly, the lover’s path is beset with thorns and briars, and therefore Mr Faintheart has no business in that road. Nothing was ever won with ease which was worth the wearing. So, in reaching for the rose let the lover fret not for a few thorn-pricks, but at the same time let him beware lest in so reaching he treads the violet under foot nestling so confidently at the rose tree’s root. THE MEN WHO WIN THE PRIZES. A certain amount of masterfulness, a certain—l know I am right—air, takes with some women; but tastes differ, and the man who exhibits a deference in his manner of speaking to, and of. women —a certain almost indefinable reverence for them hardly to be noted, yet sure to be discovered by the girl worth having—he is pretty certain not to draw a blank in the matrimonial lottery. Girls are pretty keen judges of some things. They see more and take note of more than men think they do, and, generally speaking, they have rather fastidious tastes, for —and here is the Slough of Despond wherein lie the bones of many a love-lorn traveller—he must be brave as a Moslem fanatic, yet as gentle and considerate as a woman. He must be no fop, yet it is needful that he understand the great question of clothes; and he must comprehend the fact, without being huffed, that sometimes his room is decidedly preferable to his company, and they will be both all the nearer and all the dearer for a little absence. Some men —and women too—never do learn this great lesson. We bow instinctively to the clear vision of Lord Tennyson when he wrote: — “There is no maiden, be she ne’er so fair. That looks not fairer in new clothes than old.”

Always Tell Mother. Always tell mother. She’s willing to hear. Willing to listen to tales of despair Tell her when trials and troubles assail; Seek her lor comfort when sorrows prevail. Take mother’s hand when temptations entice; Ask her for counsel; seek mother's advice. Always tell mother. In mother confide; Foster no secrets from mother to hide. Train your thoughts nobly, nor let your lips speak Words that would kindle a blush on her cheek. Mother stands ready her aid to impart, Open to mother the door of your heart. Always tell mother. Your joys let her share; Lift from her shoulders the burdens ot care: Brighten her pathway; be gentle and kind; Strengthen the ties of affection that bind. Tell her you love her; look up in her face; Tell her no other can take mother’s place. Always tell mother. When dangers betide. Mother, if need be, will die by your side. Though you be sunken in sin and disgrace, Mother will never turn from you her face. Others may shun you, but mother, youi friend, Stands ever ready to shield and defend, fend. Mother’s devotion is always the same. Softly, with reverence, breathe mother s name. LAWRENCE PORCHER HEXT.

The Gpal as a Love Token.

The opal is no longer considered of evil omen by even superstitious people. It has become popular to believe that, instead of ill-luck, the opal carries with it the best of luck and happiness in its highest form. Indeed, it is now considered the token of mutual love, burning brightly in all the colours of the rainbow. It is the gift of lover to sweetheart, the symbol of an eternal devotion, and of so devoted a character as to show itself in constant and fiery flashes of beautiful colour.

To emphasise this romantic idea the

opal is now cut in the form of a heart, and the sentiment of a heart on fire with love is one which appeals to all lovers. This heart, when small enough, is set in a ring; but Australian opals have recently been imported of sufficient size to permit of their being used in a simple gold frame as a pendant for the lorgnette chain. These opal hearts are also used for the centres of brooches. Did You Marry For Love or Money. As a rule, poets are assumed to be very unpractical creatures; they can tell you in awe-inspiring or soulstirring language of the beauties of the earth, sea, and sky, of noble deeds and of love, passion, and devotion, but they do not understand the practical side of life, and the necessity for-

£ s. d. and the baser things of that kind.

Some of them, however, are not so unbusiness-like, and their writings demonstrate this fact. Tennyson, for instance, makes one of his characters say, “Doant thou marry for nuiuny, but goa wheer munny is.” 'This shows that he understood a fact which it is the purpose of this article to state more clearly. It would be well to bear in mind the old saying about love flying out of the window when the wolf enters by the door. Money cannot purchase happiness in every case, that is true; bui the possession of a goodly share of the circulating currency is only despised by those who know no better, for every sensible man understands that It goes a very long way towards the creation of happiness, to say the least of it. And it is by no means illogical to expect that love will come after marriage. The truth of this last statement may be proved in a very simple manner. Affection for a person depends upon the degree of our intimacy with that person.

Suppose we hear of the death of Mr Dash. Now, if Mr Dash is unknown to us we care very little, probably not at all, that he is dead. If we know him by sight, we feel more interested, and may express slight regret that he had' gone over to the majority. Should Mr Dash have been in closer connection with us —we may have met him nearly every day at THE SAME RESTAURANT and had many a friendly chat with him at luncheon—then we are sorry that he is no more. But should Mr Dash be our partner in business, in which case we should know him intimately, his death would come as a shock to us, and we should shed genuine tears of sorrow over his grave. We should be corresponiling'y disturbed in mind at any minor event in

the life of Mr Dash, or in any pleasure or triumph that might fall to his lot. Carry the argument a little farther, to the ease of man ami wife, and ask yourself whether the close bond of union between them will not naturally beget love if there is the least chance. And there is every chance. A man would not marry a woman who was repulsive to him. and vice versa, except in extreme cases, and these, exceptions must be left out of consideration. We may rave about “the one being on earth for us,” and poets may talk in transcendental style about our “affinities.” But how many people find this “one,” this affinity”?

The fact is that a man or a woman would “fall in love” with any one of a hundred members of the opposite sex if Fate had thrown him or her into the society of some one of the unknown, instead of bringing him or her into contact with the present partner. Young people of both sexes, when they are approaching the marriageable age, should meditate upon their circumstances, and honestly ask and answer this question: “Can I afford to throw aside all ' considerations of money, and bestow MY WHOLE AFFECTION upon the first man (or woman) by whom I am attracted?” If the querist is in good circumstances, or has sure prospects of becoming so, then he can afford to marry whomsoever he pleases; otherwise, he incurs a grave moral responsibility and the charge of selfishness.

Many a man has refrained from asking a woman with money to be his wife, because he is held back by the thought that it looks like fortunehunting. It may be. but there is no reason why it should be. If the woman is healthy, and of an amiable disposition. let him press his suit; if she does not want him, it is quite easy for her to make him see that his atten-

tions are objectionable. A large number of women who possess money are spinsters against their will, solely because young men have been afraid to approach them.

And the same remark applies to the young woman. There is nothing dishonourable in her making an attempt to attract a young man with a banking account, provided that he bears a good character, is healthy, and of a disposition which, in her honest opinion, will contribute to domestic felicity.

Those who rush into matrimony without adequate means, and with no other thought than that they are “in love,” trusting to luck to see them safely through, are guilty of great selfishness. An increasing family reduces them to poverty, and often makes them the recipients of charity; the children are condemned to share this poverty, which they would probably not do if they had had any choice —a fact which has not crossed the minds of the parents who married for love of them (selves) —and they do not get a fair chance of preparation for their own fight for existence when th? time comes.

All honour to “love matches”! But —and it is a big “but”—there is such a thing as duty. It were better for those in love to remain single than to incur the responsibility to which we have just referred. He Would Still be Plain “ Mr.” An American millionaire, who had “struck it rich” suddenly, came over to London, where his wealth, dispensed with a lavish hand, opened the door of “Society” to his otherwise perfectly impossible presence. One night, over the wine, he confided his ambition to a guest—an English lord. “You see, lord,” said he, “I kicked

the dust of Ameriky off’n my boots, ’cos out there 1 can buy anything but rank. There ain't no rank out there, an' rank is what I hanker for. I want to be a lord, so I came to England, and you must interdooce me to a ‘Lady' that 1 can marry.”

“But that won't make you a lord,” said his guest, with a smile. "What? If I marry a Taidy,’ won’t I be ‘Lord Silas J. Joskin?’ ” cried the astonished bearer of that name. “Oh, no,” exclaimed his guest, “your wife would be Lady Joskin, but you would l>e what you are now—plain Mr Joskin.”

“Well, I’m hanged!” said the American Croesus in great disgust, “I might jest as well go back an' marry > ue of my own countrywomen!” ■ And he did.