WOMAN'S WORLD.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 143, 26 September 1910, Page 6

WOMAN'S WORLD.

LONDON STREET SCENE. A NEW ZEALANDER ABROAD. (Dunedin Star's Lady Correspondent). London, August 5. London in August is a city that blase individuals like to designate an arid desert, because the "awfully beautiful" ladies, of fashion are now disporting themselves on the sands, motoring in English, Scotch or Irish country, or are on the Continent. Yet to a decently observant New Zealander there is a special something in the streets of London in August that may, and probably does, exist at other times, but that has no such prominence as now: the foreign element comes to the fore when one's eyes can no longer delight or tire themselves with the graces of Englishwomen in their manifold daintinesses and foolishnesses. Americans it is always easy to pick out —I speak of women—for, if they never spoke (and they always do—a deal!) there is yet to be observed about these daughters of the stars and stripes a peculiar sturdiness also of physique, that is not so often to be distinguished in Englishwomen, 'wihose beauty is of a rather more ethereal type. Cuban heels, something extraordinarily dressy in the way of a 'hat, and a certain fearlessness of fashion, even though s'he be as slavish a devotee of the dame as are Englishwomen in general outlines, usually makes the American woman remarkable. German woman shoppers in Lbndon one could not justly call well-dressed, but about Frenchwomen, however humble, there is ever a touch of piquancy that is individual and striking. Their manner la vivacious, and when they are young Unas in it a Mending of coquetry and childish glee and demureness that is very fascinating. Then, too, let it be known, their air in a shop is generally charming, and they manage things quickly and seem to know their own minds. Foreign men, .one notices, much more often go shopping with their wives than do Englishwomeni and to judge from the' little bickerings one sees the Englishman is the ■wiser husband.

CONTRASTS. Dull 5s a word that could nevsr be applied to London streets between the hours of eleven and four, for if the stroller has a soul at all there are very few places in the West End or near it where diverting incidents may not be seen every few yards. The contrasts, too, are so great that they alone are worth a study. A deformed beggar limps along beside a fat little pug in golden collar; a lady of fashion, in silk and laces, must needs stand aside for a blind wretch whose crutch heats out a weary tune on the pavement as he makes a way for himself in whatever pressure of traffic; a poorly-dressed flower woman seated at the base of the Mercury Statue in Piccadilly Circus slakes her thirst from the broken tin with which she sprays her flowers; then suddenly spying a welldressed customer, is at once all smiles and eagerness. Poverty and riches knock shoulders less in August than when I the season is in full swing, but grim pic-1 tores, nevertheless, are to be seen in this | great city of cruelty. Who is to say. for j instance, what terrible thoughts may be I tormenting a poor, half-starved human wreck that one passes in the West End gazing absorbed!}- into a shop where dogs' outfits are sold? May he not be forgiven for "seeing red" when before him in win-lows are scores of glittering bau- j bles that are destined for some pampered pet—collars and harness, gold-mounted; ' glo.ves for .dogs, when 'the, hands of the child beside him are to be fro.tp.n. in- the winter; goloshes for a pug, whose feet would never be allowed to touch wot ground; a honeymoon trunk for a dog, when St. James' Park is the nearest approach to an outing that his children may ever hope to have; tiny handkerchiefs for si dog, edged with real luce; <: fur-lined coat; and a dozen other wickednesses. Some of the coster girls are vc-tv amusing, full of wit peculiarly thei.- own, and quite oblivious of anv customs save thi;ir own. One jumped on to a 'bus I wr.s on a little while, ago with a great basket of.strawberries on one arm and a collection of smaller ones under the other; down on the floor she flopped the baker's basket, disposing of the othe:s around her on the seats. Then open;uglier knees and making, a\ dressing-table of her lap, she proceeded to take off her hat, let down her hair and r -dress it, making occasional remark •< through the army of hairpins she he'! between her teeth to a ragamuffin be-id her. in a motherly, good-natured strain, .n the wealthier suburbs one is not called m by anything like the number of Italian, Assyrian and Indian hawkers that torment us in New Zealand if we happen to live in a town, with baskets of embroidery, i buttons, scent, tape measures, etc. W-tiv this is I cannot tell, bei.ause zither players, lmrdy-gi'vilv men, flower-sellers, and vegetable vigors undoubtedly do a roarin f- trade.

OLD IDENTITIES,

To colonial eyes the muffin man i? a delightful institution of the winter, with his old bell, cheerful cry, and the suaming tray on his head; and he wends a way-through side streets of London just as if he's stepped out of some' old book. Likewise the flower-sellers at kvenelar time cry their wares with the same old verse sung in the same old tune as that of many years ago, and lavender itself seems, somehow, an ancient element in the busy streets of to-day. I never buy a penny bunch in the slush qutsidc London bridge, with hurrying thousands of commonplace business men buying papers and 'tearing for trains around me, but my thoughts go to the time when a housewife used to spin her own linen and lav it away scented with the sanie sweet plant. There are. of course, streets and streets, and it would take main- months, even more, of London life to reach thatstate of knowledge of theatre land, shop land, .newspaper, shipping, manufacturing, wholesale tea land, sweet-makiw streets, and a hundred others that are al! worth studying. But dull no street in London town itself could ever be.

Some cynic has said that women aTray themselves in wonderful hats ami pretty dresses in order to excite the jealousy of their own fair neighbors, and with little thought of the effect which their splendor may have on the sterner sex. A clever writer has been studying the frank question, and he quotes triumphantly the frank admission of a leader of fashion that women always have their female friends in their mind's eye when they consider whether a new gown will create a fa.vora.ble impression. If they chance to be invited to a party at which the male sex greatly predominates, they practically limit their efforts to their faces and their coiffure, whereas if they attetad a ladies' reunion, their thoughts are •oncentrated on their toilettes. The average man will not notice nine times out of ten if a lady is wearing an old or a new dress. Women, on the other hand, make a sort of inventory, at a glance, from the tip of a boot to the pins in the hat. No male observer will recognise an old hat that has been done up, but its wearer can be sure that an intimate woman friend will at once come up to <her and compliment her sweetly on her ingenuity. "Well," said this authority, an conclusion, "Que voulez vous." You thank 'her with a smile, and you look out for the next dress that she gets done up. "Eye for eye," the clever writer murmured. "Pin for pin," she retorted. "And don't fancy that you men have not your silly ways, too." At any rate, it may be some comfort to the mere man to reflect that tire ladies do not ihoM him in the faintest degree responsll .j for the monumental hats and skimpy skirts which they are wearing, an emulation among each other is really the leit motif.

What is a hero? The question may compare with the old unanswerable, conundrum, "What is a gentleman?" It has 'been troubling the conscience of an American newspaper, which desires a fresh word. A hero is by common consent the chief male character in a novel. To add that there can be no hero without fiction might seem cynical. The attention of America has been drawn to the fact that this creature of the novels is frequently lacking in any qualities justly to be called heroic. For example, he is now generally plain and often middleaged. The same difficulty seems also to arise in the case of women. Some of the ex-officio heroines have not only a dubious past but a far from' dubious present. Yet we may not call them villainesses, for their intentions are virtuous. .The difficulty is comparativelyj modern. Though Thackeray did call "Vanity Fair" a novel without a hero it was something of an exception even for him. All the less critical spirits of his'day gave us saintly heroes and heroines with moral zeal. What does the change mean ? Is "the nasty preferred to the nice?" as Mr. Andrew Lang sung some while since. The Daily Telegraph assures us that we need not believe so. We are more elaborate in our examination of his character. We do not believe so heartily in the antithesis of the virtuous apprentice and the ne'er-do-well. And that, like everything else that makes for a better understanding of the world we live in, is all to the good."

A witty French writer has .a:; 1., "When a man has climbed ?iep by slip I up a flight of stairs, he is sure to find' a woman at the top." Now thav, is the sort of parise that gives women a '"'gu.'dj conceit o' theirs-els,,-'' as the Seotc.i say, j and it often helps them througn days: which would be otherwise dark and dreary. Somehow or other, i-i marks 'T.E.M. - ' in the Daily Chronicle, it has: been customary for the world a: large to sneer at woman's work, as t hough "it were necessarily of an inferior oual'ty to man's. .This k a mistake still nude in certain quarters. The late Miss Frances Willard enco said that if there had besn any particular honor attached to domestic drudgery men would have usurped that sphere of women's labor ages ago. Then, again, Olive Schreiner says: "It is delightful to be a woman, but every man thanks the ' Lord devoutly that he isn't one." With regard M ih'o evil-burning question of votes for women, a clever reply of lime, de Stael will bear quoting: "I have no taste,'' -aid the great Napoleon, in talking .to her, "for women who meddle in politics." "You may be right," replied Mine, de .Stael, "but since people have taken the freedom to cut off their heads on account of politics, they ought at least to be allowed to understand why.* "Working women have no self-culture,"' does someone say? True, it is very little they possess. But what is mainly the reason? From a long personal acquaintance of •working women, I know well that even to-day the words of Mrs. Humphry Ward are still sa !ly too true. '■' Working' women have as much use for learning as a cow has for clogs." Women are so enveloped in the drudgery of tiveryduv life that there is absolutely no time left for anv-' tiling approaching se'lf-cnlture. Thev are I so busy in earning the bare necessaries jof their daily exHeiioe that the-' have/ j no leisure for reading or even for' thin* j ing.. This is not as it should lie; not as j I firmly believe it will be in future. Not I long: ago Miss B. L. Hutchins told the [ Rival .Statistical Society that close upon 4,!K)0,000 women are engaged in earning their own living. It fatrlv takes one's breath' away to think of" such an immense number of women, and when one further realises that at the last census there were over 10,000,000 women and iVnrale children in the United Kingdom it makes one gasp. However, facts are stubborn things, an. I must be, faced. To sum up in the eloquent words of Charles Kingsley: "One principal 'cause of the failure of so many magnificent schemes,! social, political, religious, which have followed each other age after age has been this: that in almost everv" ease thev have ignored the rights and powers of one-half the human L- -e, viz,, women. 1 believe that politics will not go right', that nothing human will ever go right except in so far as woman goes right; and to make woman go right she must bo put in her place, and she must have her rights." If we are to progress on right lines, it must be the dutv of every thinking, intelligent woman to help iii putting women in their right place, not to quote John Stuart Mill, "as an act of chanty or generosity, but-as an act ot simple justice."