Ladies.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 18, 29 July 1893, Page 3

Ladies.

THE DREADFUL CRINOLINE. I (By Will Carleton in Harper’s Bazaar.) (The good old lady in “ Farm Ballads ” who did not like the new church organ speaks again.) There’ll come an awful judgment, Sue, Upon this land, I fear, If half the doleful things is true That rankles in my ear. The women think there’s no escape From ills their mothers bore, An’ hoops of different size an’ shape Is coming round once more. Oh, if this world, as some avow, Grows smaller each day through, Why should folks try to take up, now, Three times the room they do ? I recollect when first it came, Some thirty years ago,' Though who or what was then to blame I never got to know; But spite of all the men folks said, An’ called their sister fool, The hoop distemper seemed to spread Like measles in a school; An’ gals that vowed, an’ stamped their foot’ They wouldn’t be drove or won By such a style, went straight an’ put The queer contraptions on! Miss Polly Get-there strode ahead, An’ braved the village wrath ; But, goodness mercy ! didn’t she spread Destruction in her path ? What furniture she chanced to strike Disaster sure would greet, An’ children learned to dodge her like A cyclone in the street, An’ while the people frowned and laughed, ‘Twas good part of a year Before she learned her pirate craft Appropriate to steer. Then six young sisters, blithe and gay, The banners spread in view ; Their lather went to church that day An’ hired an extra pew. Then simTar gals—we couldn’t condemn— Felt Fashion’s widenin’ touch, An’ people also laughed at them, But didn’t laugh so much ; An’ soon, in spite of all the flings, The han’ful grew a host, An’ them that did’nt w ear the things Get hooted at the most! An’ long I vowed that I would take My path unhooped and free, An’ meant that Style should never make A barrel out o’ me ; But bitterness was in the cup From which I quaffed the right, And juveniles would chase me up, And show me for a sight; An’ finally the deed was done; My pride was headlong cast; I wasted to a skeleton— Then put one on at last!

But l am all untrammelled now, No longer bein’young; i An’ thought is throned uponroy brow, An’ Candor, trims .my tongue. ; I know Frivolity is just A steppiri’-stone to Sin. I’ll fight ’em both, an’beat I must, For Right is bound to win. But, Sue, when next in town, if such f )A step isn’t labor lost, ■ . Drop in the store, an’ learn how much Hoop-skirts is goin’ to cost!