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6 Worth Woman’s While Resolve. Build on resolve, and not upon regret, The structure of thy future. Do not grope Among the shadows of old sins, but let Thine own soul’s light shine on the path of hope And dissipate the darkenss. Waste no tears Upon the blotted record of lost years, But turn the leaf, and smile, oh, smile, to see The fair white pages that remain to thee! —Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Teach Her to Make Her Bonnet. While so much is being said of household eco nomics and domestic economy in its various phases, there is one question it appears to us should prop erly come under this head which receives little, if any, attention aiming to relieve a situation all must agree is growing more and more serious. The expense of living includes the outlay for clothing, and in the average household the amount directed to the one need is dependent on that re quired for the other—what is left after food and fuel are supplied is to be spent for clothing, or vice versa, according to the wisdom and common sense of the spenders. Some regard the clothing of the body of more consequence than its sustenance, and can rise on Sunday morning oblivious as was Tit tlebat Titmouse to the demands of the stomach, and as contented as he, resign themselves to the want of breakfast, experiencing with that gentleman all the absorbing joy and elation of the possession of new apparel. Men, in general, prefer to satisfy first the appetite, but a woman will live on barely enough to keep her, and will stint her family, giv ing them cheap and unnitritious food, in order that there may be money left sufficient to make a good appearance to the world. And if all the depri vations and necessities to which this need gives rise could be recorded in one great book it would make a tale of tragedy that must melt the heart of the world. Nor is it—this deplorable state of affairs—to be laid to individual fault. The pace has been set and he, or more particularly she, who does not keep up, soon finds that she has no sort of representation anywhere. Senseless as it sounds, and is, a wo man’s dress is taken to indicate her as prosperous or successful or entitled to social position according as it is modish and costly. To say that this is not true is simply to assert what should be, not what is. And so it is that women, especially those of the large and increasing number who work, and the wives of salaried men, feeling the burden upon them to dress as well as others, are put to it in ways that ought never to be, and that sane and reasonable living ought never to countenance. It has even come to the place that a woman who does not present the same appearance as other women cannot expect to get employment—though how she is to do this on a pitiful weekly wage it does not concern the employer, of course, to ask. The most expensive article of dress is the hat, and a recent visit to millinery establishments fol lowed by the remark of a man who has had a long and familiar acquaintance with the world, has led to these reflections. This man discoursing on the extravagant prices of millinery summed up his re mark thus: “It is a matter which the legislature should take in hand. Prices are growing more and more exhorbitant; fashion is running away with us, and it should be put a stop to by law.” We know there was once a time in England when woman’s dress became a subject for parliamentary legislation, and so such action as this wise man sug gests were not unprecedented. And were not the suggestions very good? For what else could meet a situation so universal and so intrenched in that strongest of strongholds, woman’s vanity? It is this, of course, that is responsible in the main. The few who can pay whatever price asked will do so, and the milliners, large and small, know that The Golden Age for November 15, 1906. By FLORENCE L. TUCKER. so can they force the fashions, and the prices. To restrain the dealers, that were the only way. The occasional woman who is brave enough to wear a hat worked over, or one made up at home, makes no impression anywhere beyond this sort of announcement to her friends that she is restricted in means or growing in stinginess, neither of which things has fashion’s sympathy. We are all alike aware that the latter is a haughty dame, making no concessions, and uncompromising in her exac tions. But to be independent of her, to dare to disre gard her mandates, or to follow them at a distance and to such extent only as our means will allow, this is the idea that is presenting itself to those women who simply cannot pay twenty-five and fifty dollars for a hat for a single short season. Though, to make one’s own bonnet requires the skill of an artist or the training of a professional; and what woman has that? It is not just a mere matter of being willing to sacrifice pride and set fingers to work—it is the knowing how. It is a question not alone of the immediate pres ent, as it requires but a glance back over a few seasons to show. Each successive season has had its advance in prices and extravagances until we have arrived at the present, with no reasonable prospect in sight but a contiuation of what prom ises deeper and deeper plunges into extravagance if there is not called a halt. No immediate radical improvement of the situation could be possible otner than legislative interference, and this certainly is not imminent—nor, we might safely say, ever to be looked for in this land of woman’s privilege where she will be protected even in her follies. Conditions will be growing worse. We are un able to cope with them now. But what about the children? Why not prepare them? Why not in struct them in the milliner’s art as in fine needle work. and domestic science? Why not let the girl’s education include a course of training under an artistic worker in flowers and ribbons? There are women who form and teach classes like this, and the girl who takes such a course of lessons is inde pendent to an extent ever after, whatever styles may be, or however they may change. She possess es an advantage which, besides saving her expense, insures her the individuality that is the desire of every woman of artistic instinct. If there is anything inherent in woman’s breast it is the wish to look well; and nothing so makes or mars as the hat. It would seem that vanity alone would inspire the fingers of every mother’s daugh ter of us. And when the trade has become so ar bitrary, when we are simply forced against our will and beyond our means, what course so natural or so sensible as that we should take matters into our own hands? And shall we not do it? Let her who knows the bitterness of the need of a new hat answer. Let her decide whether her daughter shall be driven to the lengths she herself has, or whether the child shall be provided an independence which shall en able her to maintain a proper sense of economy and her artistic individuality at once. The Folishness of Worry. Perhaps there is nothing else so utterly foolish and unprofitable as a habit of worrying. It saps the nervous energy and robs us of the strength and vitality necessary for the real work of life. It makes existence a burden and a weariness, instead of a perpetual joy and blessing, as it should be. Poise and serenity are necessary to the complete development of character and true success. The man who worries is never self-centered, never per fectly balanced, never at his best; for every moment of mental anxiety takes away vitality and push, and robs him of manhood and power. Worrying indicates a lack of confidence in our strength; it shows that we are unbalanced, that we do not lay hold of the universal energy which leaves no doubt, no uncertainty. The man who does not worry, who believes in himself, touches the wires of infinite power. Never doubting, never hesitat ing, he is constantly reinforced from the Omnipo tence that creates planets and suns. The habit of worry is largely a physical infirmity; it is an evidence of lack of harmony in the mental system. The well-poised soul, the self-centered man never wabbles or hesitates. The infinite balance wheel preserves him from all shocks, and all acci dent or uncertainty. Enough vital energy has been wasted in useless worry to run all the affairs of the world.—Success. We Find What We Seek. Some one has said that we are saved by our ad mirations. Our characters are certainly molded by our ideals. The man who holds an admiration-ideal, so to speak, who finds something good, something to ad mire, in everybody, is infinitely superior to the one who holds a critical ideal, who is always looking for ugliness, deformity, and inharmony. Nothing else so hardens character, so demoral izes manhood and womanhood, and so utterly pre cludes the possibility of upward growth, as the deadening habit of fault-finding, of criticising. As a rule, we find what we seek. If we look for light and beauty—if we try to find something to ad mire and praise in others—we shall find it. On the other hand, if, like the hog, we root in the mire, seek something filthy, keep constantly on the watch for the faults, the unlovely qualities in others, we shall find what we seek. But we must remember that whatever we are looking for, whatever we are striving to find, will color and influence our char acters; in other words, we shall become like what we strive and yearn for. So, if we wish to become beautiful and strong, in mind and body, we must seek symmetry, beauty, nobility—all that is vig orous and elevating—continually, in nature and hu manity.—Ex. A Rare Beautifier. “Have you noticed,” said a lady to a friend, “how pretty Annie Holt has grown lately? She used to wear such a sad, woe-begone epression that it always gave me a fit of the blues to look at her. She may have had those fine dark eyes, and that sweet, rosy mouth always, but, somehow, I never noticed them until recently.” “Yes, I have remarked the improvement in An nie’s looks,” replied the other, “and I know the se cret of the change.” “What is it?” queried the first speaker eager ly. “Well, Annie was convinced that her life was particularly narrow and devoid of brightness, and she was growing morose and bitter about it. A friend, who had tried the plan herself, persuaded her to keep a diary, and to put down faithfully each day every little pleasure that came to her, and also ev ery opportunity that offered to brighten the day for others. In a short time, she was surprised to find how many records of this kind her diary contained. By taking note of the pleasant things she gradually formed the habit of looking for them instead of the gloomy ones, and—well, you see the result.” “Who would have thought that it would have made such a difference in her appearance!” exclaim ed the other. “Now I think I understand what Em erson meant when he said— 1 There is no beautifier of complexion or form or behavior like the wish to scatter joy and not pain.’ ” —Selected. Unreasonable Freddy. Tommy—“Ma, Freddy’s crying ’cause I’m eat ing my cake and won’t give him any.” Mother—“ls his own cake finished?” Tommy—“ Yes, ma; and he cried when I was eat ing that, too.”—Woman’s Home Companion.