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iHI A\ii 'i'M
VOLUHT. TWO
HUJtST.'R THIRTY-TWO.
WHAT WE THINK OF WHAT WE SEE
Sy A. L. FA AIS A UR. Afanaging Editor.
A few days ago a gentleman from the rural dis
tricts walked hesitatingly into the palatial barber
shop located in a certain swell hotel. He planted
himself in a vacant chair and asked for a hair cut.
The hair was long, and stuck out in tufts and
bunches of varying lengths. Some of it bore the
appearance of being the vintage of the latter years
of the last century. The stately being who pre
sided over the chair looked the situation over and
asked:
“Who cut vour hair last?”
“Oh, my wife did,” answered the rural citizen.
“What did she do it with,” snorted the Duke
of the Shears disdainfully, “a knife and fork?”
Senator Albert J. Beveridge has returned from
his bridal tour abroad and it is announced that he
is going to begin a series of talks to his country
men about Russia. We cannot help wondering if
he has found too many limitations in the English
language and is therefore going to talk about Russia
in the language of that country. Mr. Beveridge is a
wonderful man. If this country is not saved, enlight
ened and brought up to the proud station of the
most-talked-to nation of earth, it will not be his
fault. He is making us proud of our institutions,
too. We are glad because of Albert just as we
treasure the Mammoth Cave, Niagara Falls, the
Grand Canyon, the Unterrified Georgian and the
Atlanta Spirit (limited). He has recently called
our attention to a most valuable book which he
has discovered, in a series of articles now appear
ing in a leading publication, entitled “The Bible
as Good Reading.” The book was not in so much
danger of being overlooked as Albert seemed to
think; but at any rate its position is safe now. It
will never fade from the literature of earth. If
such talks as the distinguished American makes
in future are couched in the Russian language, we
are willing to withdraw our suggestion that he be
confronted by the Unterrified Georgian. The fact
is, we shrewdly suspect that the English language
is going to be monopolized by the female side of
the Beveridge family and Albert is being scrouged
out into Russian But we shall see.
The Gentlewoman, a publication which is pre
sumed to be devoted to the discussion of matters
of interest to women, such as dress, the proper care
of dogs and suitable training of husbands, recently
contained a short item on “Traveled Hands.” This
is the item:
“In the course of our lives, says the statistician,
although we write many letters, we have not the
remotest idea of the distance our hand covers while
traveling over the paper.
“According to him, the average man or woman
writes about thirty words a minute, which, with
the up and down strokes and curves, represent
ATLANTA, GA., OCTOBER 3, 1907.
something like five yards, or 300 yards an hour.
A person, therefore, using his pen for say two
hours a day can boast that his right hand has
journeyed a distance of 120 miles.
“And this, it should be remembered, refers only
to those who write, comparatively speaking, lit
tle. When we come to the professional element,
journalists, clerks, etc., who work six or seven hours
a day, the figures become startling.”
We quote this item, not with any intention to
question its accuracy or even to intimate that it
is not of absorbing interest to us. We have often
reflected upon just this thing; but we wish point
out that this is another instance of the way edi
tors go far afield to find something upon which to
comment when at their very door and more in
keeping with the object of their publication there
are more remarkable matters simply crying for at
tention. Why should a woman’s magazine get so
excited about how far men’s hands travel, when
they are mere stay-at-homes compared with wom
en’s hands under the prevailing styles of women’s
clothing? A woman’s hands travel more in dress
ing their owner in ordinary, eveiyday apparel, one
morning, than a man’s hands during a whole week.
Ignoring the excursions attendant upon arriving
at that stage of dressing, just consider the trips a
pair of hands have to make in dressing the hair
and buttoning the shirt waist as it is now worn,
with a row of tiny buttons, set closely together all
the way up the back (long backs being worn now,
too, mind you). No man can compute the number of
trips a woman’s hands travel in dressing her hair.
They go in many winding and devious ways, like
unto the wanderings of the crafty Ulysses, one
wielding the comb, the other fluffing, patting and
dividing each area unto its own metes and bounds.
Then, after the time of dividing asunder and set
ting straight is concluded, comes the era of build
ing up and establishing for the day’s campaign.
The comb is laid aside, and the mouth filled with
hair-pins. The size of the mouth worn in some
measure determines the number of pins thus held,
but the number that can be placed in even a small,
rosebud of a mouth would no doubt stagger belief
if some statistician should investigate this impor
tant subject. Then certain foreign substances
shaped something like the turbine arc inserted to
serve as a foundation, and the building up begins.
From the hair to the mouth and back again, until
the pins are exhausted —and the whole ninety and
nine are properly placed. Then there are certain
pats to be administered ere the hair may be left
alone and the waist receive attention. This requires
both hands and earnest attention to locality. Here
is found the explanation of the fact that the sense
of touch is so marvelously developed in the female
being. When each button has been carefully coaxed
into its particular button hole, the course must be
traveled over again to make sure that none of them
have strayed from the fold, and then more atten
tion must be given to the hair. This exercise in
evitably causes two or three buttons to slip their
moorings, and so it goes. It was a canny poet who
sang:
“Man’s work is from sun to sun;
Woman’s work is never done.”
And still the editors of The Gentlewoman did
not once recognize the fact that in order to instruct
their readers and give to the world some informa
tion really worth while, they should employ an
expert to compile a statement of distances traveled
and the time consumed in a given number of in
stances under stated conditions. There might even
be a cup offered and a tourney arranged, so many
hairpins to be used; so many buttons of a stated
size, the mirror being of certain dimensions and
such other restrictions being imposed as seemed
just and proper.
A woman who lives in Brooklyn, N. J., recently
brought suit against the New York Transfer Com
pany to recover for the loss of her trunk in transit
from Ocean Grove to her home. She stated on
oath that she had the following articles in the
trunk, it being 30 inches high, 22 inches wide and
42 inches long:
“Seventeen dresses, fifteen skirts, ten pairs of
boots, six bathing suits, two coats, ten lace collars,
three sets of underwear, waists, stockings and
shirts, two shawls, two extra table cloths, two lots
of napkins and doilies, five bedspreads, four blan
kets, a bunch of towels, eight bedsheets, ten pil
low cases, three pairs of trousers (one white duck),
men’s underwear, collars, shirts and ties, vest and
socks, three sweaters, two pairs eyeglasses, one pair
opera glasses, one dozen plated knives and forks,
eight steel knives and forks, twelve dessert spoons,
twelve teaspoons, two wool rugs, a mirror, and
toilet articles.”
The nature and length of the lady’s journey is
not made to appear in the accounts of the pro
ceedings. It is not therefore known whether she
was a returning missionary, or had been to the sea
shore on a vacation, or to visit a friend for the
week-end, or had been to a christening or a wedding
at the home of relatives. She had lost a small
trunk and it was reasonably full. But we are con
vinced, from our observations during a compara
tively lengthy period, that the trunk contained only
the trifling articles which she felt almost sure she
would not need during her trip. The bulk of her
belongings, the really important articles of dress
and comfort, were in her hand-bag and hat-box and
bundles and bird cage and suit case and grip and
shawl-strap and lunch basket. But she was award
ed remuneration by the jury for the things in the
trunk, which was just and right.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.