The Sketcher.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 227, 22 January 1876, Page 5

The Sketcher.

SLAMMOCKS. (From the Liberal Rcviciv.) Slovenliness is more rampant in our midst and responsible for more evils of a magnified character than most people imagine. The generality of persons, when they see a woman neglectful of the apparently minor details of her apparel, or a man careless as to how he puts on his clothes or in what condition the same are, are inclined to think that the circumstances are trivial, and should neither attract much notice'nor hostile comment. But it will be found, in the majority of cases, that the facts, though apparently unimportant, are of great moment, seeing that they are indicative of much that is hidden from the casual observer. Of the great number of women who, notwithstanding that they are fond of donning showy garments, are accustomed to be neglectful of that part of their dress which they think escapes public notice, the larger proportion sooner or later descend to depths of slatternliness which are simply shocking. So long as they are prosperous and young they may preserve a seemingly decent appearance, but when they grow old and their day of adversity arrives, it is astonishing with what rapidity they develope a shabby and out-at-heel appearance and how quickly they become utterly unmindful of all that render’s them agreeable and pleasant companions. With a recklessness which is simply unpardonable they shock yoiu- finer sensibilities. Now they will offend your {esthetic tastes by appearing in tresses which seem to have had no connection with brush or comb ; anon they will shock your gaze by the wearing of gannents which might be presentable if their owners appreciated the truth of the old adage that “ a stitch in time saves nine,” and were not restrained by criminal laziness from using a needle and thread when they are first called upon to do so; and what is, perhaps, more important than anything else, they allow the houses of which they have the management to degenerate into things little better than well-kept pig-sties. They only do what they are literally compelled to do, and what they do they do in a manner which shows that their aim is to get their work out of hand as quickly as possible rather than to perform it with credit to themselves and comfort to those by whom they are surrounded. Dust and dirt are allowed to accumulate in the holes and comers of their homes; meals are carelessly and, consequently, badly cooked, and are placed upon tables in such a slip-shod way that their repulsiveness is rendered even more apparent than it might otherwise be; and when they themselves are exposed only to the eyes of their husbands and

friends their condition is really something shameful. Under these circumstances it is not surprising that husbands are led to seek comfort and diversion elsewhere than in their own houses, often with lamentably disastrous consequences, and that children inherit the social disease which is blighting the lives of their mothers. But it must not be supposed that the mothers will admit this much, or even that they are greatly in fault. Indeed, they are often disposed to think that they are ill-used and long-suffei’ing creatui’es. Probably they will give you a long account of their husbands’ desertion and iniquities, in complete obliviousness of the fact that they signally fail to make any sei’ious attempt to render themselves acceptable to their lords. Di'op in upon them xmexpectedly and find them lolling in chaii’s, in dirty deshabille, sixrrounded by a group of unkempt and riotous youngsters, and they will auda.ciously invite your sympathy l’ather than contempt. What can they do with Johnny, they will piteously ask, seeing that he will keep his locks matted and his face dirty, and in tearing his clothes and bespattei-ing them with dirt ? and how can they deal, they whine, with Polly, who pi’efers to read some trashy novel to using her woi-k----basket, as it is conspicuously evident that she ought to do ? Politeness -restrains you, or otherwise you would propei'ly tell such a woman that she might do a great deal, and that she is merely reaping the fi’uits of her own sowing and evil example. If she were ordei’ly and industi’ious hei’self she might make her children the same also. She offends when she permits her children to commence their day’s occupations before they have finished their toilets, and when she leads them to understand that it is only indispensable for them to make themselves what they should be when company is expected. It ought to be a recognised social law that people should always be fit to meet their equals and that nothing is more injudicious and wrong than for them to scamp the work of dressing themselves except on special occasions. Though slovenliness may to a great extent be inherent it may be checked in the yoixng by stern discipline. It being a folly—perhaps we ought to write vice—which feeds upon itself, its earliest indications should be shai’ply dealt with, and youngsters who get into the habit of always being behind time ought to be taught that they cannot be permitted to pull-xxp by leaving anything -undone which ought to be done. It must not be understood that women only are the offendei’s in the matter of slovenliness. Many men are also highly culpable, and suffer accordingly. Nor ai’e they merely at fault so far as their persons are concerned. Indeed, if you see a man going about pei’sistently untidy—neglectful of sxxch matters as his boots, his nails, and his linen—you may be certain' that sooner or later he will become a sloucher, and that his affaii’s will always be more or less muddled. Thus it will be unsatisfactory to have dealings with him either in his business or domestic capacity. He will be continually foi’getting, he will be everlasting putting off what he ought to do, and ending often by not doing the same at all or until too late. Thus it is a perfectly correct and reliable instinct which leads people to judge men as well as women by their appearance. We are no advocates for ostentatious splendour, but we would have men remember that they often allow those who really are their inferiors in capacity to pass them in the race of life, and solely because they are careless and indifferent in the ways which we have indicated. Let conspicuous offenders against good taste realise that the struggle for existence is now peculiarly keen and that, other things being equal, he who takes pains aboxit himself in small matters is certain to out-strip the individual who does not. The latter will often be unfavorably received where the former is received with courtesy. Of course, it is possible to run from one exti’eme to another. It must, however, be obvious that neatness does not involve splendor nor an enhanced expenditure, both of which things should, by individuals of moderate means, be avoided. It is quite possible that care and frugality can go hand in hand—indeed, many meanly dressed people demonstrate this beyond a doubt. In a word, slovenliness involves extravagance and disci’edit, neatness economy and credit. Were the people of the wox-ld not foolish, it would be txnnecessai’y to state such a self-evident fact. COACHING IN ENGLAND. Among the “ wild vicissitudes of taste,” few things have undergone a greater change than equipages, pi’ivate and public. Early in the present century the caiTiages of the nobility were large lumbering vehicles emblazoned all over with coats of arms, crests, mottoes, and other devices ; the harness was also richly decorated with silver or brass oi’naments, the whole very much after the fashion of a Lord Mayor of London’s stage coach of the present day. These family coaches were di’iven by very stately-looldng coachmen, with cuxly wigs, perched ujx on a box covered xvith a gaudy hammercloth, the horses heavy and undei’bred At the same period vex-y high phaetons were in fashion, and there is a print in existence of the Piince of Wales appearing at Ascot in a very high phaeton hxxng upon springs three or four feet high. In addition to the above there were Sedan chairs, named after Sedan in Fi’ance, in which the upper ten thousand went to dinners and balls. These chairs wei-e most elaborately ornamented outside, and lined inside with the most expensive silk. At Bath, Tunbridge Wells, and other fashionable places, chairmeix plied in the streets as cabs and hansoms now do. Occasionally they were used by spendthrifts, who were anxious to avoid the tipstaves, as they could enter them in their own hoxxses and be deposited in that of a friend. However, it does not appear that the Sedan chair was always a safe refuge against ax’rest for debt, as in one of Hogarth’s prints the tipstaves are seen to be laying hold of one they wei’e in search of, just as he was about to descend from his supposed place of security. One of the best caricatui’es of the day represented an Irishman being carlied through the streets in a Sedan chair, by

two burly chairmen, xvith hi 3 feet touching the ground, some wag having taken out the bottom of the Sedan, and the chairmen, aware of the practical joke, selecting the. dirtiest part of the road. “Bedad J” says Paddy, “ except for the honor of the thing I’d as lief walk.” The chairmen were fine robust men, and they had little regard for foot passengex-s, and considered the pavement their own exclusive property. It was rather an amusing to witness how the men ti’otted off, when a chair was required, l’acing to be first for hire. After a time sedan chairs got out of fashion, except at Bath, Cheltenham, and Leamington, where they wex-e in favor for many years after they ceased to exist in the metropolis. The lumbeiung family coach gave place to the chariot and vis-a-vis ; the high phaeton to the mail phaeton, and the Tilbury and Dennet were introduced. Both of the latter carriages were, for a long period, the rage in London, the creme de la creme of fashionable society pati’onising the former, the more sporting portion of the community the latter. A new vehicle also made its appearance, and when well built and well hoi’sed attracted much attention ; I refer to the cui’ricle. Among the best “ txxrn- of outs” of this cai’riage were those of the Marquis of Anglesey, of Sahagun and Waterloo renown, Count D’Oi’say, and Ball Hxxghes, commonly called, from his wealth, the “ Golden Ball.” The vis-a-vis of the Earl of Blesssington and that of Earl Fitzhai’dinge were unique. When peace was proclaimed with France in 1815, there were many French cabriolets imported into London and which finally drove the Tilbury ovxt of fashion. These new carriages had two great advantages. One was that there was a head in case of l’ain ; another, that instead of having your “ tiger ” by your side, you could have a friend. Barham, in his “Ingoldsby Legends,” gives a vei’y amusing account of Tim, Lord Tomnoddy’s “tigei-,” who suggests to his master that there is a man going to be hanged, an event which is gladly looked forward to by his blaze master as a new excitement. The French cabriolets were built vei’y light, and to my mind looked better than the heavier ones turned out by London coachmakers. Then came the brougham, named, as it is ill-naturedly said, after a most distinguished patriot and lawyer, the late Lord Brougham, who, having had his initial letter, B, printed outside, gave rise to the saying, “ There’s a Bee without and a wasp within.” The late Sir Chai’les Shackerely was the first to introduce a vis-a-vis brougham xvith a hammer-cloth, and a coachman xvith a xvell-curled xvig, but no one followed the eccentric baronet’s movement. As a proof of the eccenti’icity of the late Sir Charles, xvho xvas as kind and good-natured a creature as ever lived, I xvill give the following instance :—Sir Charles kept a pack of staghounds, and a grand meeting xvas to take place on Easter Monday, the final meet of the season. Of course, a great croxvd assembled on the racecourse near his residence, Somerford Park, and the deer-cart xvas so surrounded that there xvas no chance of the stag getting axvay. Fortunately, the master of the pack had hit on an expedient xvhich answered perfectly xvell. When Sir Charles and his sporting friends appeared the populace xvere not a little surprised to find a xvooden platform, hitherto unoccupied, filled with a band of music and txvo grotesqxxes, from xvhich a cloxvn began to tliroxv a number of somersaults, exclaiming, “You’re come a-stag-hunting — an’t I a pretty dear ?” There was a rush to it, and in the meantime the “ antlered monarch of the xvood” xvas uncarted, xvent away gallantly, and gave an excellent run. The circus people hired for the occasion continued their gambols, much to the delight of the sightseers. Early in the present century four-in-hand clubs xvere in fashion, but very different xvere the turn-outs in those days to what they are noxv. The coaches xvere heavy, the horses xvere heavy, and the drivers aped the dress and manners of professional coachmen. Bright yelloxv xvas the favorite color for the carriages, or lake picked out xvith red ; the harness xvas neither neat nor elegant, it being generally ornamented with silver or brass mountings. The horses xvere strong but underbred. The gentlemen drivers, in dress, did all they could to folloxv the xvorst taste of the old-fashioned stage coachman. A drive to, and dinner at the Bedfont, xvas the order of the day, xvhere a considerable quantity of fiery port xvas “drunk upon, the premises,” as xvere some of the imbibers of it. Bacchanalian and sporting songs folloxved, and the orgies xvere kept up till a late hour. What a contrast is the above to the four-in-hand and driving clubs of the present time. The “drags” are perfect in shape, make, and appearance ; the harness neat, “xvhen unadorned adorned the most;” the horses nearly all thoroughbred, splendid in action; while the gentlemen carefully avoid anything that is stagey or horsey. A lunch at the Alexandra Palace, xvhitebait at the Trafalgar or Ship, Greenxvich, after parading and driving round Hyde Park, form the day’s amusement. One great improvement of the present system is that ladies grace the meetings xvith their presence; and nothing can be a prettier sight than a neatly-appointed “drag” xvith a party of xvell-dressed ladies on the boxseat and roof. The presence of the Prince of Wales has given much eclat to the driving clubs, and as his Royal Highness is a thorough English sportsman, riding forward to hounds, shooting well, and devoted to yachting, we hope the day xvill not be far distant xvhen the Prince will drive a team of his own.

Light phaetons are noxv the fashion for men to drive, xvhile the ladies take delight in a neat light Victoria, drawn by a fine stepping horse, or in a low phaeton drawn by txvo highaction ponies. Some persons put txvo horses to their Victoria ; but they never look xvell, and the same remark applies to broughams. A chariot, barouche, phaeton, and tandem xvith a pair is the right thing, but for a Victoria or brougham nothing is better than one good animal. I noxv turn to public stage coach conveyances, which have been wonderfully improved of late. Fexv, alas l there are, but these few are splendidly horsed and well driven, and remind one of the day when

Stevenson, from the University, horsed and drove the Brighton coach. One of the prettiest sights in London is to be seen at the Old White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, xvhen the respective coaches start on their journey, and so xvell are they turned out, that, xvere it not for the xvords “London to Windsor,” “London, to Maidenhead,” and ' other such notices, they xvould be taken for private drags. How cheery, too, is the sound of the horn, as the coach rattles axvay through the crowd of carriages, ’buses, carts, xvaggons, and drags in Piccadilly, and there is one remarkable feature xvhich goes to prove that there is an. innate lox r e of coaching in evei’y Englishman’s breast, namely, that every driver of ’bus, cab, four-xvheeler, or hansom, makes way for the coach, all of xvhom seem delighted at the thought that the rail has not entirely driven, the stage coach from the road, and that horseflesh still thrives, despite of steam. — An Old Cavalry Officer, in Land and Water.

WILLIAM B. ASTOR. Nexv York, November 24th.—The announcement of the death of William B. Astor at his residence in this city this morning created a profound sensation in mercantile and business circles xvhere he has long been so conspicuous a figure on account of his enox-mous xvealth. His death xvas not entirely unexpected by his family, as his age—he xvas in his eighty-fourth, year—had led to the belief that his taking off might occur at any time, although he appeared to be in robust health. Mr. Astor xvas the representative of one of the great money-kings of the country, and his name has been long associated xvith abundant wealth. His father, John Jacob Astoi’, whose chai’acteristics William inherited, arose from a poor peasant boy to be the most eminent of Nexv York merchants, and probably, in his time, the wealthiest man in Amei’ica. At the age of txventy years, possessing a manly person and addi’ess, he left Germany and sailed for Baltimore, taking xvith him a few musical instruments to dispose of on commission. On the voyage he made the acquaintance of a shrexvd old furrier, in accordance xvith xvhose suggestions he exchanged his musical instruments in Nexv York for furs, xvith xvhich he immediately hastened back to London ,where he disposed of them to great advantage. He prepared again to cross the Atlantic and to devote himself systematically to the fur trade. In London he studied the continental fur markets and make himself familiar xvith every variety of the article, and on his return to America established himself in this city, where he built up an enormous ti’ade. His business became extended until it embraced markets in every quarter of the globe. Yet so exact xvas his acquaintance xvith these markets, and so xvide was his grasp of mind, that he xvas able to guide the actions of his supercai’goes and captains by the most minute instructions. At this time, xvhen his commerce covered the seas, he worked early and late, and xvas accustomed to shoxv his workmen that he could equal the best of them in assorting and beating furs. At the beginning of the century he xvas worth a large fortune. He soon began to make investments in real estate in this city, and some portions of his property centupled in. value on his hands. His fortune, the largest ever accumulated in America at that time, has been estimated at not less than 20,000,000do!s. William B. Astor learned to assist his father in his business, assorting fui’S and helping to beat. them. He xvent to the public schools, and his father determined to give him a thorough education. He accordingly sent him to Heidelberg University. After his university studies, he xvent into his fathei’’s office and learned his business by a, sloxv and hai’d tuition, acquainting himself xvith its every detail, until, in the last fexv years of his father’s life, he had supreme control. By the death of his uncle, Henry Astor, William came into possession of half a million dollars, xvhich he inx r ested sagaciously. The Astor house, built in 1835, xvas given him by his father soon after its completion ; and a residence xvas also given him. In 1848, his father died. The bequests and annuities provided for in the will absorbed about two million dollars, and the remainder of the immense sum fell to William. The xvill, among otherbequests, gave 40,000d015. for founding the Astor library, and 50,000d015. for establishing a charitable house at Waldorf, Germany, John Jacob Astox-’s native village. These and the other bequests xvere faithfully executed by the son, xvho in addition gave large sums to several persons xvhom he tliought deserving of his father’s recognition. To the 40,000d015. left by his father for the Astor library, he added libei’al donations of his oxvn, aggregating a sum fully equal to the bequest. The library is one of the handsomest and most complete in the country, and is l’apidly groxving. By strict attention to business and judicious investments, William B. Astor largely increased the immense fortune left him by his fathex*, and his xvealth is put all thexvay from 60,000,000d01. to 70,000,000d01. his fortune, even among his most intimate He xvas also very l’eticent on the sixbject of friends. He had great faith in the value of Nexv York real estate, and rarely sold any of his property. He oxvned over 1700 buildings in the heai’t of the city. He was shrexvd and cautious in the administi’ation of his affairs, and to the last exhibited a direct pei’sonal interest in the details of his business. A one-storey building in Pi’inces-street, just out of Broadxvav, and the first floor of the house adjoixxing constituted the office of Mr. Astor. Here, aided by only txvo or three clerks, he transacted all his immense business. He lcnexv every inch of real estate that stood in his name, evei’y bond, contx-act, and lease. Like all rich men, Mr. Astor xvas alxvays besieged by beggars, and no man in the city xvould sooner give in a cause of mei’itoi’ious charity. He gave axvay a fortune every year, but he gave xvith discrimination and unostentatiously. Mr. Astor’s wife was a daughter of General Ai-mstrong, Secretary of War under President Madison, and a lady distinguished for her cultux-e and benevo-

lence. They have had six children, three sons and three daughters, nearly all of whom are still living. Mr. Astor’s personal habits were simple and unostentatious, and his mannei of living plain in the extreme. He will be buried from Trinity Chapel on Saturday.