PRETTY BARMAIDS, BY ONE OF THEM.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 4, Issue 1216, 28 October 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

PRETTY BARMAIDS, BY ONE OF THEM.

TO THE EDITOR OF " THE HERALD," Sir, — I suppose you know who this " Anxious Mother," who is constantly writing to the newspapers about her " boys" -hobledehoys I should call them—being corrupted by pretty barmaids, really is. You know everything, of course, but I am; quite suro you won't tell me her name, ' If : you did I would send her this letter. As it is, I send it to you, Am I a barmaid? Yes,: I am; Am I a pretty barmaid? Well, Mr,; Impudence, I've been told so, and I'm quite' willing to believe it, So much for your questions, Now' for "Anxious Mother's." Do I like being a barmaid!' No, Madam, I do not quite as well as I should liko to have a carriage and a pair to drive, and a gover-! hess to teach me French and music. Am I a good girl? Well, really, Madam,' I don't know what you call "good." I work hard for my living; Ido tho best I can for my employer; and lam as.dutiful and obedient to my mother as your daughter is to you. Oh yes, I givo her a little present sometimes, but irs out of my own earnings, and not out of pocket money she gives me. Do I flirt? Well, perhaps I do when I have' time, which is'not very often.; and, unless some of my customers tell fibs, so does yourdaughter,' though she is engaged. It is true' that old Threer'ails—you see these family secrets oke out sometimes—though as rich as the gentleman with the Latin name I forget —is as ugly as sin; but for all that a givl should stick to her bargain—at least an; honest girl would, Oh, I don't say a word against her, Madam, I'daresay she is . as: good as gold, and perhaps better, but. if I ; were old Threerails, I'd keep young' Saddlestrap out of the house after the marriage,; How do I know young Saddlestrap ? Bless' you, my dear madam, I know lots of people, and lots of things, I know old Threerails, himself. Wanted to give me a' bracelet once, but I don't belong to society people, ; you see, and I have not the privilege of" socially selling myself. I know your husband too. Nice old man he is. If it wasn't for tho screen at our place you could see him: leaning over the counter any afternoon, you drive past, Does he pay. me attention I No, !' he doesn't. He "tries it on" with Missi - at the other end of the bar, and don't we laugh at him at night-time. Yes, he. has; given her gloves ; at least he has given her the money for them, I suppose you get yours on credit. Has he kissed her ! .Oh I yes, but, Lord .bless you, he doesn't mean any harm, Takes a fatherly .interest in her, ' Do I ever go to the theatre ? Yes, and to the' stalls, too, but I don't throw notes, wrapped up in bouquets, as they say some young ladies do. Do I make appointments ? Oh, yes, sometimes, and, like, a Minister of the Crown, I' keep them, but not often with married men; oh I no, that I leave to others, How do I know that is done? Ah, my dear Madam, we accidentally hear strange stories across the bar, but we don't, as a rule, write to thp papers about them. We have a little womanly feeling left, Madam, though we do serve behind a bar. Do I, know your son ? Oh 1 yes, Madam, I know! the cad alluded to. Am I trying to corrupt him? Dear me, no. I think I should find a good deal in that line ready made for me, Does he ever come to my bar? Very often, Madam. Sometimes sober; sometimes drunk; oftener drunk than sober, And he talks loud, and he swears, and he puffs smoke Into our faces, and wears a fringe, and carries his hat on the back of his head, and but there, poor fellow, I oughtn't to run him down, for he's in a' 1 bank, t I believe, and serves behind a counter tool Does he make lovo to ine 1 Pool' boy, I don't think he knows how to, Seems as if lie couldn't talk to a sensible, let alone a modest young woman, But I'm not surprised at it, poor child, You should hear some of the stories I havo heard him tell his " old chap," and his " dear boy " about the goings on at some of your fashionable parties. Besides, why should I complain of his puffing smoke into my face ? He does it into yours if you meet him in Collins street, and he'd just as soon sweair before his sister as he would before me, 'Keep him at home, Madam, if you're so anxious about him. Teach him to paint flowers, or send him to Sunday school, though there are pretty corrupters eveii there—or feed him on skimmed milk; but do please try and teach him that there are some good women in the world, and that his mother belongs to the sex, Do I know what the Saddling Paddock-is? I do, Madam, and fiod help the poor wretches who gothere; and help, too, poor girls who have to earn their living in its neighborhood. But there are other saddling paddocks, where youth and .beauty aro legally, ifnot illegally, sold, Madam;, and if your son's good sense can't keep him out of both sorts of them I'm sorry for hita, Do Igo to plnu'eh ? Well, I'm generally too tired to go in the morning, but I do sometimes in the evening, and as I have quick eyes I can give quite as good an account of the bonnets I see there'as you or your daughter, and remember quite as little of the service into the bargain, Is it true that I spoon? Yes, when I can get the chance, and the other spoon is nice-looking; but I can get plenty of men to talk to if I choose, men that I call gentlemen, who see no reason why my being behind a bar should shut me from the courtesy any woman is entitled to, so long as she behaves herself, Do I not run the chance of being insulted ? Well, perhaps, sometimes, but it s generally by some young fledgling of the class you're so anxious about, whose mother has neglected to teach him manners, Am I not paid for being attractive ? I'm paid for doing my best and looking my best, and behaving my best, and if I didn't do that best any respectable employer would soon got rid of me. Do I wish to get married, and have a home and children? Ido, Madam, as every true woman does; and when I do, I hope' I shall teach my daughters not only virtue, but charity, and make my husband's home happy enough to induce him to stop there, and set a good example to his sons. There, sir, perhaps" Anxious Mother" is satisfied now.— Yours,'-Blonde.

Paper Felt,—A cure for gaping crevices between the boards of flooring that has shrunk on' drying is to be found in the material somewhat oddly called "paper felt." The dust and draughts which • attend these open floors are troublesome and injurious to health, and layers of brown paper placed beneath the carpet have been resorted to as a remedy, but a layer of the woolly felt in question is far more wholesome and comfortable. It adds to the warmth and dryness of a room, and being heavy lies quite flat under the carpet, to which it gives a soft pleasant feel under the feet,' ■ "Beauty Sleep."-Sleep obtained- two hours before midnight, when the negative forces are in operation, is the rest which most reouperates the system, giving brightness to the eye and a glow to the cheek. The difference between the appearance of a person who habitually retires at ten o'clock and that of.one-who sits up until twelve is quite remarkable. The tone of the system, so evident in the complexion, the clearness and sparkle of the eye, and the softness of the lines of the features, are in a person of health kept at " concert pitch" by taking, regular rest,two hours before twelve o'clock, and thereby obtaining the "beauty sleep" of the night. There is a heaviness Of the eye, a sallowness of the skin, and absence of that glow in the face which renders it fresh in expression and round in .appearance, that readily distinguishes the' person'who keeps late-hours. ■